[IC] A Tale of Blood and Fog

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𝕬 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕱𝖔𝖌

Content Warning: This RP may contain uncomfortable or violent themes. While this won't make up the entirety of the RP it will be featured. Quests will feature a summary (and content warning) as well as links to the starting point. If a quest features a topic you are uncomfortable with feel free to skip over it.

Quest Log

The Bloodied Hunt

[Famotill]

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝕳𝖚𝖓𝖙

[+]

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” --Friedrich Nietzsche

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You’d been walking for what felt like days. You were not alone in the wood. The mists that wrapped around aching knees seemed present, aware, of the interloper trespassing on her hallowed grounds. The sounds of your party’s feet accompanied the wails of the cankerous black tumors infesting the forest’s trees. The putrefied oak writhed and sung with sounds akin to raw meat dancing in the palm of your hands.

You and your party had been assigned to capture hollow men from within the forest for the purposes of research. Elias had taken the creatures down with little trouble. 'It was always important to keep them from surrounding you' he warned. Despite the completion of your quest it was far too dark to travel back to Fort Stag now. You continued to follow Elias through the murk.

Heinrich

You felt a stirring beneath the soils. The ground hummed with each step you took as if in synergy with some ethereal force within you. You felt a power here. Though, these days, it was often that you felt a trace of...something….unexplainable..nipping at a piece of you. It sought whatever foothold it could manage.

Your story had begun not in the cushy luxury of Redcliffe, but in a dank cave surrounded by death and magic. The tome at your side gave you something, but it took something too. Perhaps the biggest mystery was discovering what that meant. Certainly the answers laid not in your estate.

Lion Wolfram, your superior more than your father, was bred to protect the legacy he inherited. Disgraced, not by your new power, but by your insolence he cast you out. You had little choice but to flee Redcliffe, flee Astoria. From the stables you found yourself a horse. No one protested. Perhaps it was your father’s one act of kindness. Likely not.

Luckily, on your travels you’d seen men from the Order who waxed poetics about their noble conquests, and their nuanced understandings of the arcane and cryptic. You found little use in returning to a place that wasn’t home. Not without Lucilia. If the men of vigilance spoke true, then you were prepared to travel to Fort Stag for the answers to a question you knew not.

You pressed on, a family of strangers, in your quest to fulfill your first blood hunt.

Roselyn

Your red handkerchief- the only weapon you could wield against the suffocating fog thick with muck and decay. Something crunched under the weight of your boot with every other step. Though the fog obscured them slightly you found the sight of your new companions an enticing focal point. You’d heard their names, in preparation for the ‘blood hunt’, but beyond that they were unknown to you. Elias Black, the Warden assigned to your party, seemed alarmingly present. For every crack, cry, or crank all of his senses sharpened and his blade hand tightened. His cautious pace was enough to give most of the group pause.

You’d been offered freedom, but upon arrival at the docks there was a tension looming in the air. This wasn’t the freedom you’d envisioned.

Your story began in a haze of blackpowder and retribution. You were a phantom, another lost to the ebbing rose petal waters of Caracas. But, the dead don’t collect their due. Men of stature and means have always taken in Caracas. Your father, your home, your life. They’d taken everything from you. In doing so, however, they erred. You paid them back in blood. Four degenerates for the life of one innocent. Alas, the magistrate hadn’t seen it that way.

Caged for the crime of grief you waited to rot away, but another opportunity presented itself. A warden from a Vicellan Order offered you the the chance to, instead, rot away as a freed woman.

You pressed on, a family of strangers, in your quest to fulfill your first blood hunt.

Hadar

There was a haunting familiarity about these woods. Your eye, obscured behind cloth, burned with maddening fury. The festering black plague that dotted the forest smelled of disease and decay. The feeling of dread reminded you of the crimson sands of your home. Vicelles was wildly different, but even still you felt His influence here. The fog whispered to you just as sands you fled from once did.

Your story began much earlier than the others. A child groomed to be a puppet. At their command you’d kill and sit upon an empty throne. But, you were different from the others. Still an urchin, still a slave, but contemptuous and ever-questioning. They thought they’d ripped that flame from within you. As did the noble boy. Except every scar put upon your flesh became another reason to flee. You bore that pain until you could no longer. The stinging of hot desert at your bare feet as you fled seemed almost comforting in comparison to the pain of your yesterdays.

The sands whispered to you then, and despite what you tell yourself, they still do.

There was little else to do now, but press on with this family of strangers in your quest to fulfill your first blood hunt.

Anwyn

Despite the protestation of your elders you found satisfaction in the vast world outside of your bog. They never meant for this place, Vicelles, to be a home. Their nest, like the other nests, were born of refugees fleeing the destruction of the only home they’d ever known. They warned you of the danger in befriending men of land. To them you were an exotic commodity. You knew better.

Your story began with a song. A tale woven with apparitions by a most handsome spinster. Enraptured by his magic, and emboldened by his words you left all you knew behind. You’d come to meet the stranger who upended your life once again near Astoria. He taught you to craft enchanted epics that would bewitch and twist the world to your whims. There was a price, however. For as soon as your master had entered your life, he vanished. He left behind only a weapon, and the passion needed to hoist it at the world. Now that vigor has brought you here; in the company of mystic protectors. Is this the life he’d have you live?

Shaking the thoughts from your head you press on in your quest to fulfill your first blood hunt.

Ralorin

The Wood Elves, Keepers of the Heartland, a proud and cautious people. You were an elf of the forests. You listened gleefully to the stories of the elders at every Gathering Feast. They told you and your peers of the marvels, and the beauty of Ithea. From your forests, to the valleys, the mountains, and the dregs you'd known its glory all your life. But, there was an even greater treasure beyond the lush greens of the Dales. Impressed upon by ages of tradition you set out on a quest to discover a wisdom obtained only through experience.

Your story began with a knapsack and an ideal. Your curiosity and sense of duty knew no limits. No ocean or country border, not the brutality of the Penaultish Wilds, nor the blistering heat of the High Mist desert. Nothing, it seemed, could tame your thirst for knowledge.

Did it ever occur to you that some things should remain unseen? That there are horrors and realities far beyond what you could understand? The dead can't tell their stories at the Gathering Feasts. Perhaps you've come too far.

Shaking the though from your head you press on in your quest to understand the Order's Blood Hunt.

“Keep moving,” was the only reprieve from the musings of the fog around you. Ward Elias Black moved cautiously ahead of you. “There is a manor not far from here; we’ll make camp there for the night. Keep your heads.” He was a lanky man, and quite honestly, far from imposing. One of his eyes was badly scarred. Even in the night you could see the glow of an eye rendered defunct. He wielded a long-sword and short-sword with fists balled so tightly around them that he threatened to crush the metal sword grips. This was despite the frail husks that laid, dead, one on each shoulder.

He motioned you and the others through the wood, and into a clearing. From your vantage point you could see the ruins of a small village destitute of life. The air was thick, and you could hear the whimpers and groans of something stirring from within the dilapidated homes. Elias’s step never slowed, however. He looked back solemnly if only to confirm the fate of those within. Most of the cottages were collapsed in, and what was once stone road had been crushed and consumed by Ithea. Small particles fluttered through the air like black snowfall.

The aforementioned manor loomed in the distance. It sat high upon a hill imposing its mass on the cottages below. Even from your position you could see that in comparison to the small host of homes before it, the estate was in pristine order.

"It's just there, beyond the cottages." Elias' stride quickened as he motioned for you and the others to follow behind him.

[Oxenfree]

"That's great," Roselyn observed dryly, trying to ignore the shaking of her own hand as she took in the sight of the dead village and the manor looming through the fog. "That's the direction I want to be going."

Mechanically, without focusing, she drew her pistol from her belt and went through the steps of loading it, making it ready to fire. She paused short of affixing the match-cord to the firing mechanism - that could be done quickly enough, and it wouldn't do for the weapon to go off prematurely and alert... whatever their 'ward' was so nervous about.

She cast her gaze around the party as she did so. In a sense, they were the most disturbing detail about the hellish world she'd found herself in - without them, this forest would seem a surreal and shifting nightmare, the product of her terrified mind as she sat in the hold of the ship that brought her to her new life and tried not to think about the roiling abyss below. But these three did not belong - she would not have placed them here. It was real, then, and she had arrived.

Hadar, the mute, the Tiefling with the massive sword. Heinrich, the red-eyed nobleman. Anwyn, the girl with golden scales on her face - it must have been a disease, some kind of condition, but it was beautiful. And me. The girl in the mask.

She was shaken out of her ruminations by a loud thump and a groan from within one of the cottages, causing her to start involuntarily. "There's something in that one," she said. "Survivor, maybe? Should we check it out?" She couldn't imagine what had happened to this place, or that anyone could survive it, remain squatting, trapped in the remains of a ruined home.

But then, people could survive all sorts of things.

[Famotill]

Elias looked back to the Caracan woman. "The first lesson to learn in Vicelles," he started with a grunt before shifting the husks that he carried on his shoulders. "The first lesson to learn is that it's never survivors. Now let's make haste for the manor. As dreary as it is we'd do best to keep sheltered from the cold."

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It took only a few forceful pushes before the doors to the manor churned open with an awful cacophony of hisses and creaks. As you and your party made your way inside there was a force of air that brushed past you. The stink, the dust and decay were eager to escape their imprisonment. The wood floors of the manor moaned beneath your feet.

Heinrich, Ralorin and Anwyn could feel an energy swelling in this place. It was a most eerie and cumbersome feeling that barraged their senses, both.

The foyer was decorated quite lavishly with maroon carpets and curtains. Despite the cobwebs and grime it was obvious that this place had once been home to someone with impeccable taste. To your immediate left was a small lounge area with seating beside a fireplace. To your right was an entrance way in what appeared to be a dining area. Ahead of you was a stairwell with a small door alongside its wall. On each side of the stairwell was a door to a room. The second floor landing was square in shape and looked over the entirety of the foyer. A few of the curtains along the windows were pulled open. The light from Ithea’s two moons peaked through as dust danced about the air in their rays of light.

“Hm, a fireplace. We’ll see if we can make do with this.” Setting the bodies of the recently departed hollow men on the ground, Elias began pulling at their limbs. “The Order shan’t miss these,” he mustered through gritted teeth as he continued to pull. Eventually the gaunt bodies of the creatures gave way. Elias coughed slightly at the ooze leaking from the wound. He turned to face the party as he did so. “Hollow men make excellent kindling,” he lectured.

Before anyone could respond a hideous shriek rang out from outside of the manor.

Trying his best to ignore the sound Elias continued organizing the kindling. “You’d best make yourselves comfortable for the night. We’ll leave for Fort Stag at sunrise.” With one final forceful pull of another limb Elias sat back for a moment. His beard was splattered with the yellow-green mucus from the extraction.

Downstairs

Upstairs

[Redrum]

𝕳𝖆𝖉𝖆𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕬𝖓𝖜𝖞𝖓

A collaborative post by @Redrum, @Vietmyke and @Famotill

Hadar coughed as the doors to the manor slowly slid open behind the continued press of his shoulders. The building itself looked nice, well built and sturdy, if abandoned. Hadar rolled his shoulders as the others entered, using his weight to push the heavy doors shut behind the rest of his compatriots.

Compatriots- Hadar hadn’t been traveling alongside any of them long enough to call them anything more. He was used to working with strangers- his short tenure as a mercenary made him well accustomed to faces coming and going, either through death or new jobs. Mercenary life was relatively lonely, there were few you could trust aside from yourself. The Order didn’t seem much different. The only thing that seemed to have changed was the enemy they fought, all of them inhuman. At the very least, it made it easier to identify friend from foe.

For an order of monster hunters, the Order of Vigilance sure had a strange taste in initiates. There was Heinrich, the red-eyed nobleman, he looked more like an employer than a foot-soldier, but here he was, trudging through the muck and brack like the rest of them. Roselyn was a tall, but skinny girl, supposedly she was here for mass murder, Hadar wasn’t sure how much he believed in the stories, but he had fought enough humans to know never to judge them on their looks alone. There was Anwyn, the magical songstress. Had it not been for the scales, Hadar would’ve written her off as useless, but rare was the merfolk who strayed from their underwater abodes, there was more than met the eye for that one. Ralorin was an elf, who could cast magic and that was valuable in and of itself. Finally, there was their Warden, Elias. He seemed capable enough, but the man was a raw nerve- he twitched at every noise, regardless of threat. Hadar wondered how much combat this one had seen that he turned into what he was.

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At no point during her past journeys in Vicelles had Anwyn ever felt quite as uncomfortable. Before joining the order she had found short term shelter and growing audience at a lively bar in Warsaw, right at the edge of the Astoria and Vicelles border. It was a joyous time, full of mirth and spirits, but now as she looked at her current situation and recent pact Anwyn couldn't help but question her recent decisions. Born in the Bog she was well aware of the fog that poisoned the country, however most of her travels had lead her near the eastern towns, cities and countries of Carthus. Having her own experiences with the creatures and mutated fauna that covered Vicelles, she had been sure to steer clear of the thick of it, not wanting to deal with trouble that was sure to follow her in the miasma that consumed the land. Now, however, she was truly in the thick of it all.

Following Elias through the ruins of a town, the Siren fought back every urge to shout her disagreements with her ward. None of this felt safe, but in the company of others she tried to reassure herself. Upon entering the manor, however, any thoughts of optimism quickly left as the energy that laid within the estate pulled at every nerve and hair on her body. "Oh, what a welcoming place we've come to." She muttered out loud taking in the decor around her.

Once Elias began pulling apart one of the dead Hollow Men they had killed, Anwyn felt her stomach churn in disagreement. "O-oh, that's disgusting! Of all the things we've learned, that is definitely not something I'm going to use in the future, Elias." Her protests were met only with a hand-wave from her superior. Arms crossing over her chest, the heels of her boots made quiet, dull taps against the carpet as she began walking away from her party. "I'm going to check the downstairs of the manor out, always better to be safe than sorry. Might even find a good drink in this godforsaken place."

A second pair of boots began to follow her, leather and steel crunching against the worn and partially rotted floor of the manor around them. Hadar shouldered his blade, and slowly made his way beside the siren. He made a grunt, some form of acknowledgement, as the two pushed towards the corner of the manor.

The kitchen and dining area along the right side of the foyer was hardly visible in the dark of night and in a manor so desolate as this. A dining table served as the centerpiece of the room. The wooden chairs that would’ve once been seated at the table had all crumbled under the weight of age and rot. They laid in a sorry state beneath the table. It was a miracle that the table was still standing at all, but it was reinforced with a thin iron that likely kept it upright. The small bar that lined the left hand side of the dining room was in a sorrier state. There was a single bottle of wine shattered on the floor. Red marks stained the floors. It was hard to make out the source of the stains.

Hadar regarded the dilapidated kitchen with a fairly neutral face. In all honesty he'd probably seen worse- save for the age of the place. Though it made little difference further into the dining area the light from the foyer seemed to provide a semblance of visibility. It seemed Elias was successful in starting the fire. He wasn't sure if Anwyn needed light to see, and he wasn't exactly in a position to ask. He himself had no issue seeing in the dark, his accursed demon eye at least proving itself useful, if unwanted. His eye was quick in etching out a small creature scratching against the wooden floor. As Hadar and Anwyn made their way into the dining room a small white mouse ran in between them. Its fur was scraggly and falling off, and it was infested with large pink tumors lining most of its small frame. The flesh was sickly, bruised, and covered in blood and mucus-like pus. It tried desperately to paw at the pair for a scrap of food.Looking down at his feet, Hadar noticed the mouse, and sent it on its way with a casual kick from his armored boot. It skittered with a wretched hiss as its shaky form made its way back out towards the foyer.

Further into the dining area they could see where the room met with the kitchen. The kitchen, unlike a good portion of the home, seemed reinforced by brick. A number of shelves were empty, and what remained were a number of jars and vials once housing food. There was a good deal of rat feces lining the shelves of both the kitchen and the dining area.

Upon making their way further into the kitchen they saw a skeleton resting alongside large sacks ripped open, no doubt by the mice. There was a small damp piece of parchment laying beside the body.

"I don't know why I'm surprised this place is filthy." Anwyn muttered. Destroyed and rotted furniture, rats and rat feces, and the cherry on top was the skeleton awaiting them in the kitchen. "Well, if that's not ominous and a huge red flag, I don’t know what is." Glancing at Hadar nervously, uncertain dark eyes returned to the skeleton. Focusing on the piece of paper beside it, she gave a heavy sigh of irritation, "This feels like a trap, but -- curiosity killed the cat." Taking slow and careful steps, Anwyn stared hard at the skeleton, almost as if she was preparing for it to come alive and jump at her. A small and panicked 'eep!' slipped from her lips as she finally snatched the parchment paper up and hopped back towards Hadar and away from the skeleton. Heart racing and breathing slightly labored, an amused grin stretched across her face suddenly as she held the slip of paper before Hadar, "But satisfaction brought it back!"

The note was worn, and a bit difficult to read given the years it likely sat near the skeleton. On the note read:

Bloody Kitchen Note

Too many traitors spoil the broth. I gave you a home, Arthur, even after your wife and child left you for greener pastures in Astoria. You answered my kindness with betrayal. I can never forgive the things you accused me of, but for the sake of this house I will put you to rest where you were always of most use. Farewell.

As Anwyn read from the note a small whimper could be heard from behind the brick walls within the kitchen. Eyes widening, her body whipped around facing the brick wall where the whimpering could be heard. Behind her, there was the rasp of steel, as Hadar’s long dagger found itself into his hands. A moment later, his calloused hands pushed himself in between Anwyn and the source of the noise. "We need to get to Elias, something isn't right." She said to Hadar. He nodded, confirming with a short grunt. Upon entering the Manor the Siren could feel an ominous energy, and with the note and whimpering combined, she wasn't going to wait around and allow whatever was in or outside the Manor to have the first move.

[Oxenfree]

Roselyn coughed, turning away from Elias's maiming of the dead creature's body. "Good tip," she said through a wrinkled face, "Really great." Some of the other members of the party announced an intention to go explore the manner - though heavens knew why they picked the destinations they did. If there was anything good, it would be in the living quarters, probably upstairs. Normally she wouldn't condone theft, of course, but there was no way the occupants of this house still needed their valuables, and scavenging was a valuable skill - a piece of jewelery or some old coins could go a long way towards keeping her supplied in this miserable backwater.

"I'm going to go check upstairs," she announced to nobody in particular, shrugging her pack and her musket off her shoulders and proceeding to the staircase. She hummed a jaunty tune as she walked, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. She walked up the stairs and down the hall, her fingers tracing a line in the dust-covered wall. It wasn't hard to spot the door to the master bedroom, considering that it was large, ornate, and closed - rather curiously, the fine woodcarving of the door seemed to have held up much better than anything else she'd seen in the mansion. Rose threw it open with one hand, her pistol held out, ready to fire.

Nothing leaped out from the shadows baying for her blood, which was a good sign. Unfortunately, that was about where her luck ended.

Stepping into the master bedroom was like stepping into the past. Though the age of the place was still obvious, it seemed as though some care had been taken in maintaining the room's finery. The walls were a deep maroon, similar to the downstairs, and the curtains of the window were well-maintained, like someone had washed them recently; they wouldn't have looked out of place in her old home in Caracas, and people had lived there. The room wasn't entirely presentable, of course - the dressers were a complete mess, thrown open with half-folded clothes strewn about the place. It didn't look like looters, since quite a few obviously valuable garments had been left behind and some care had clearly been taken in not ransacking the place. It was more like someone had packed to leave, and done so in a hurry. In a corner of the room there was a large golden harp, further evidence that this room hadn't been ransacked, but none of that was what caught Rose's immediate attention.

That was the skeleton that had been tied to the bed, laying spread eagle with its hands cut off and its sternum crushed, obviously by some terrible brute force. Rose swore and stepped back towards the door when she saw it, her pistol raised, but when it failed to rise from the dead and attack her she lowered the weapon and stepped forward again. Something was written on the wall above the bed, barely legible but clearly in blood. My dear *illegible* our eternal home was all that she could make out. "Spooky," Rose said to herself, prodding the skeleton's ruined chest with the barrel of her gun. She picked up a fine gown from the floor and sniffed it - it was musty, but not nearly as ragged and moth-eaten as it should have been. There was a creak in the ceiling above her, and she darted her head around to face it. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed something on top of the dresser - an open book, still bound, pages slightly yellowed but seemingly readable. She reached up, thankful not for the first time that she came from tall stock, and pulled the book down to inspect it.

'Incomprehensible' was a good way of describing the page the book was open to, as was 'ominous'. Rose liked to consider herself a studious sort, but whatever this book was about was completely over her head; clearly it had something to do with magic, as evidenced by words like 'ritual' and 'binding' and the creepy patterns she glimpsed as she flipped through a few pages. She remembered that the noble, Heinrich, was supposed to be something of an occultist - maybe he'd know what this was about. She spared one last glance at the skeleton and turned to leave.

[Lauder]

Heinrich Von Wolfram

Upon entering the study Heinrich was treated with the stench of decay. Unlike most of the home which was clearly kept quite tidy the study had been a mess. There was dried blood, very clearly quite old, and one of the right-hand windows was busted out. Bookshelves line the walls, and one particular section appears to have been explored haphazardly as most of the books laid scattered around their shelves. There was an unlit fireplace in the middle of the two bookcases lining the back wall. There is also a chair seated in the middle of the study area. A few pieces of lounge furniture rest along the wall facing out towards the landing.

Heinrich, working through his feeling of claustrophobia and general stuffiness, moved towards the section that had been searched through rather messily. His crimson eyes darting between the books before he eventually found himself stacking them side by side, almost fixing them while reading over the covers to see if any title interested him. In honesty, he went to that specific bookcase purely because it looked more interesting than the rest, such an arbitrary reason for such an astute lad. Heinrich let out a sigh as he stepped back from the the book case for a moment, unconvinced that any of these books would get him closer to what he desired. Instead, he took a random lump of books from the shelf that he had so maticulasy put together to begin sorting through.

If there was any chance that this place held a magical connection, then perhaps that meant the Red-Eyed witch had visited this place or left a clue. While Heinrich’s reasoning to this hunch was unknown, he just felt that there might be something, some tug at his consciousness told him to at least search through the books. He took the books back to the chair, ignoring the blood he saw around. Upon turning towards the chair he was greeted by the sight of a skeleton strewn lazily on the cushion. The wrists of the skeleton left impressions in the arms of the chair, and dark red stains ran down from the wrists to the arms of the chair before trailing down into a dried stain on the floor of the study.

Gazing upon the Skeleton for a few mere moments, Heinrich simply sighed and walked towards the chair, stating in a more neutral tone, “Slit wrists are not exactly a grand way to die. Though, at least it probably freed you from the hell within this fog.” The lad set the books on the floor next to the chair before he unsheathed his rapier to prod and push the skeleton off the chair. The bones fell to the ground, as did a crumpled up piece of parchment, scattering across the floor as Heinrich replaces the skeleton’s spot. At least the scattering of the bones had broke the eerie silence. Though, Heinrich did raise an eyebrow at the parchment, he reached over and picked it up.

The newly-made magician unraveled the paper and began to read.

I thought myself mad when I heard those damned cries from downstairs. I thought, somehow,maybe there was still someone down there.... I never imagined the creature I saw lurking in that wine cellar. It nearly ripped me apart. Could it have been Agnis? I’m not sure what is real anymore. I find myself losing a grip on my sanity. Horrors of things done by my hand haunt my nightmares. Connor hasn’t said a word to me in days. I wanted to leave this forsaken place, but a force compels me here. I cannot leave here, and I know that beast hunts me.

I, Edward Frey, will not let it have the satisfaction of killing me. Neither will I have it run me from my home. Edna, Enora, Amelie, Edmund, and Marie...you were right. Forgive me. I love you all so dearly.

“The wine-cellar?,” Heinrich asked to himself, he stroked his chin for a moment wondering about what to do about this creature that was supposed in the wine cellar. There was the possibility that it would still be there, but at the same time, it might have strayed to death given the state of the bones of the skeleton that he had so rudely disturbed. Furthermore, it seemed that there may have indeed been some magical essence that had been bestowed upon this house, which would indeed explain his sudden stuffiness and claustrophobic feeling. He contemplated for a moment once more before turning to leave the room which he had wanted to use for his own purposes.

[Blitzy]

A collaborative post by @Blitzy and @Eneui

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Upon entering the servants’ quarters, Amathel and Ralorin were treated to a most putrid odor. The smell of centuries of decay with little maintenance was repugnant, and the pair could all but hear the squirming of insects and mice from within the walls. Once inside, the elves noticed five skeletons laying idly on five separate beds. There were four beds that line the left wall, but the farthest inward had no skeleton of its own. There was little light in the room, and with neither Ralorin or Amathel being dark elves, it made seeing all the more difficult. Even still, their sharp elven senses were enough them both to make out the silhouette of tomes, scattered on the bed along with a stuffed bear. On the floor beside the bed were a host of blankets, no doubt imbued with the musk of old blood and dirt. Likewise, one of the three beds along the right-hand wall was also without a skeleton. This one was closer to the entranceway. This bed was barren, as if someone had been moved out of their quarters. All that remained on the bed were a few spots of long-dried blood and the ripped arm of a stuffed bear.

Ralorin surveyed the room through small, squinted eyes. He had followed the high elven giantess up the stairs to the servants’ quarters simply because he didn’t care for the smell of whatever it was that Elias was maiming, but this certainly was not an improvement. The stench was hardly better, and the sight of all these decayed corpses was certainly worse than watching their ward rip the arms off a hollow man. Ralorin couldn’t recall even one occasion in his life where he’d felt so disgusted. The small elf stepped further into the room, pointed ears twitching slightly as he tried to ignore the squeaks of rats behind the rotten panels of the walls. He walked slowly between the rows of beds, looking to his left, then to his right, taking in the sheer horror of the sight, wondering what could have caused all of these people to die in their beds. “Well, this is just lovely,” he remarked sarcastically. He stopped at the edge of the empty bed, littered with dusty old tomes. Dragging a slender finger along the rotting wooden bed frame, Ralorin brought the grime up to his face, before blowing away the years of dust and dirt in disgust. He turned to face Amathel. “5 people, dead on their own beds. It doesn’t look like they tried to run, or defend themselves from anything, it’s like they just… died.” He paused for a moment and looked over the skeletons once more. “What could have done this?”

Amathel did not know what to make of the tiny man following her up the stairs, he was a Wood Elf, and her Father had his own choice words for them, but Amathel herself had yet to properly decide. The place they found themselves in however, “Well it certainly is a delight, as far as the deaths go, context is everything, when it happened, those involved, let us hope they are not fresh kills and that something is skulking around melting flesh.“ Amathel was perfectly aware of the dried blood, and the fact that anything she just said was extremely unlikely, but making the already seemingly twitchy elf even worse was becoming a passtime. “As for a real answer, they died in their beds, if it were a beast of any kind I would hope they would notice it. More than likely one of their own may have caused this or somebody new who was not supposed to be here." Amathel twisted the tiny gold ring around her finger, of all the things here for some reason, the little arm of the stuffed bear worried her more than anything else, she hoped she would not find a child here in any form of death, though looking around it was as if she had to be more specific to herself, She hoped there were no children here at all. As far as a proper search was concerned, Amathel’s closer inspection of the bunks, as if it were not in plain sight already, lead to the sight of the words written above each bed in dried blood. “I am beginning to like my theory of, they were killed by one of their own. Liar, Traitor, Maligner, False Witness, Either we have a murderous priest of some kind purging people for their sins, or mayhaps somebody here has a few gripes with the servants.“

She had a point. Ralorin turned his attention to the words above the beds. Every bed with a corpse had a word to match, and the beds that were lacking bodies were also missing words. Ralorin processed them one by one, trying to make sense of the gruesome puzzle before them. Liar. Traitor. Those two seemed simple enough, self explanatory. Maligner. Ralorin wasn’t even sure he knew what it meant, but assumed it was in keeping with the theme of dishonesty. False Witness. Deceiver. Perplexed was an understatement. Whoever had taken it upon themselves to commit this atrocity clearly had very strong, personal feelings driving them on. It was likely that the empty beds were not a mere coincidence. The small elf visibly shuddered, imagining what it would be like to live and sleep feet away from someone who would later murder you and write on the wall with your blood. It didn’t bear thinking about. “I don’t understand this.” He walked to the end of the room, to the empty bed littered with books. He lifted the first tome; the cover was obscured by years of dust but a short sharp breath soon revealed it to be a children’s book. So was the next one. Children’s books and a stuffed bear. If children had been involved here, that just made things even creepier. Ralorin picked up the third tome, and flicked through the rotting pages. “Look at this,” he said, beckoning Amathel to come closer. He held the book out so that they could both see the pages. “Minerva. A human goddess?” He flicked through the pages. Sure enough, the name was repeated on every single one. He handed the book to Amathel and picked up a fourth. Sure enough, there was that name again, except this one spoke about magic, a ponderous tome. “All of a sudden murderous priest doesn’t sound so far-fetched. What do you think?”

Amathel rolled her eyes, her quip about the priest thing had been a joke but now that a human goddess had found it’s way into their little mystery Amathel was afraid to make any more jokes. “I seriously doubt a priest is involved, If I remember correctly from my encounters with humans Minerva is a goddess of magic in one way or another, guardian of mages or something along those lines. If she has anything to do with it, it would be more likely that one of the servants was a mage and this is the result of a rather fearful employer finding out, but then the messages make no sense in this context.“ Amathel found little more than what Ralorin did, she knew quite a few humans, or at least was spoken at by those who felt that her scowl meant she wished to hear them speak. While some humans revered magic, as evidenced by the existence of Minerva, like any race of peoples just as many tended to fear what they do not understand. “Really though, I suspect that learning about this will do little more than satisfy morbid curiosity. I doubt any monsters other than human had anything to do with this. I suspect we should move on, back with the others and see what they found.“ It was almost as if she planned it, the horrible shrieking that pierced the air echoing from outside. Amathel grimaced and cursed herself under her breath, it was almost a quiet mission, she loved the quiet missions. “Right on que, let’s go.“

[Famotill]

A collaborative post by @Lauder, @Redrum and @Famotill

Much like Ralorin and Amathel, Heinrich figured he might want to report his findings to Elias. He left the study to go back downstairs; though, he was certainly in no hurry as he still wanted to investigate the books. As he approached the man, “Sir, I believe that there is certainly something off about this place. When we entered, I almost instantaneously felt quite stuffy and claustrophobic, which may imply a form a magic on the house. Furthermore, I found this alongside a skeleton in the study and it seemed that there could be a creature in the wine cellar, as well as it said stating that something kept this man from leaving.” Heinrich held out the wrinkled parchment to Elias, wondering what he would do about the situation.

Elias snatched the note authoritatively. With brows furrowed he began to read the note with hushed muttering. “Poor sod, it says something was in the house.” Elias’ gaze arose from the note towards the second floor. He paced back and forth slightly as he surveyed the area above the two. “It’s likely not alive or long gone, but I’d keep your head about you. May be best to warn the others to do the same. First sign of trouble and we leave, immediately.”

Heinrich did not take long to formulate a response to Elias, speaking clearly a decisively, “Sir, with all due respect, I feel as if that we may have no choice. If there really is magic that kept this man trapped in here, there may be a chance that it is still active and effecting us. We could certainly try to leave, but I am skeptical.”

Elias scoffed as if to assuage his rousing anxiety, shrugging off Heinrich’s assertion he made his way hastily towards the doors of the estate. Reaching out his hand to push open the doors he felt a sudden force push him back, knocking him back in the process.

“Minerva’s tits, it’s always bloody magic,” through aching bones the warden managed to make it back on his feet with only a few groans of pain. “Well, you figured out that we’re stuck in here. I don’t suppose you’d know how to make us ‘un-stuck’ would you, lad,” he asked before turning back to Heinrich.

“I could certainly try to blow a wall down, but I’m afraid of the spell rebounding back at me. Though,” Heinrich smiles that arrogant Wolfram smile, “at least a Wolfram’s intuition is never wrong. I will see if there are any spells in my tome that will allow us a safe exit from this place.” Heinrich bowed his head slightly before walking back to the stairs and to his place in the study, flipping through the pages of the ‘Book of Red’ to see if the the Witch had left something that may have mention to something like this, though he had his doubts.

With Hadar in tow, Anwyn hurried from out the dining area arriving just in time to watch Elias get blown back from the door. "I knew something wasn't right about this place!" Watching Elias stand back up and Heinrich head back upstairs to the study, Anwyn returned her focus to her ward. "Here, Hadar and I found a skeleton and this note in the Kitchen. Looks like things didn't end so well for whoever lived in this place.

Elias took Anwyn’s note still a bit taken aback and dazed by having been so abruptly dumped onto the floor. “First some sort of monster in the cellar, and now a murderer. Driskard’s going to have me flogged for this.” Pressing two digits against the bridge of his nose Elias took a deep breath. “Well it’s likely that whatever in the ten realms killed these people is long dead. Let’s just figure out a way of getting out of here.”

Heinrich had frozen on his spot of the stairs when he had heard Anwyn begin speaking, and once he turned heard Elias once more, he snapped the book shut. “Though it seems that conventional means of escape are deemed impossible, it could be possible that the source of what’s causing this is in the cellar, creature or not. If we need to, we could brave that place in hopes of other clues. Though, there could be a creature that may not be affected by starvation or age. A magical creature in some capacity could likely survive for a while, and there is no feeling if it had preyed upon others that had come through, if they came through.”

"I can help with that." Gripping her songblade, Anwyn unsheathed her songblade and held it out. The unsheathing of the hollowed out blade created a low hum, feeling it's vibrations run through her body the Siren released a breath of confidence. Playing her instrument, she could call forth the Will-o'-The-Wisps. The atmospheric ghost lights would light the way before them, and if anything malicious, creature or entity alike, the Wisps would turn a bright red should they encounter anything while leading the party into the Cellar.

---

---

[+]

Upon playing her song the wisps hummed for a few moments. There was a guttural silence that permeated the manor as the party looked on. The wisps' humming became more violent and sour as an intense red color befell their light.

As if in response the magic a most harrowing cacophony of screams surrounded the walls of the manor. The blood-curdling cries were as sharp as a vicious wind, and enough to disorient a deaf man.Whatever the source of the noise it was clearly monstrous. The creature lurking from outside let out charred cries that cut like glass. Its scream was otherworldly as if it tore into some ephemeral veil between the realms. The screams multiplied and swelled around the party. There was nothing to be seen inside of the manor, but the horror that must’ve awaited them outside…

Elias gripped onto his sword harshly, but even in his attempts to maintain composure his sword-arm quivered anxiously. “Banshee…” he muttered.

[Famotill]

A collaborative post by @Oxenfree, @Lauder and @Famotill

Heinrich would have gone even more pale if he already wasn’t, his hands already at the sides of his head to cup his ears though it did little against a banshee’s screech. “A banshee?,” he echoed Elias, frantically looking around, fear back to take hold over his being as he had heard tales of Banshees slaughtering those of the Order. “This place was a trap!,” he exclaimed over the horrid screeching before looking at the stairs.

“Tiefling, with me!,” Heinrich commanded, as if he had authority over the group or as if his family name still had power that he could command. The Von Wolfram ran up the stairs, going to the study and peering through the broken window to see if he could get site of the banshee that was tormenting them.

“Red eyes!” Rose shouted as she burst into the study behind them, pistol in one hand and an open book in the other. “What the hell is going on?”

Heinrich almost did not hear Rose’s shout over the damned screeching of the banshee, and, while under normal circumstances he would not answer to the name ‘Red eyes’, he turned to look at Rose. “We have a damned banshee outside! I’m going to see if I can use magic to kill it from one of the upstairs windows!,’ he exclaimed before his mind registered the pistol in Rose’s hand. “I’d recommend you use that thing to help!” He turned back to race up the stairs in order to get to the study.

Rose thrust the book into Heinrich’s chest to stop him running past her. “I found this in the master bedroom next to some sort of strung-up sacrifice victim,” she shouted, “If it has anything to do with this banshee, figure it out before our eardrums burst.” She shoved the book into his hands and raised her pistol. “I’m gonna go shoot a ghost, see if that works.”

The book, worn from years of neglect, was immediately recognizable to Heinrich as a grimoire. It’s gruff black leather felt weighty in the mage’s hand despite it’s mangled state. Though many of the incantations inside were worn the bloody fingerprints lining the used pages were conspicuous. Beneath the stains of grime and blood was an incantation. It was clearly foreign. Heinrich’s recent foray into the arcane gave him enough insight to recognize the text as an archaic form of elven. He couldn’t make out all of the words, but the apparatus for which the incantations were cast seemed obvious. Blood magic used for the purposes of a protection spell.

But why would a spell such as this bind the users to the residency?

Another blighted scream from outside the manor is enough to rattle Elias. “Fucking pits,” he shouted from the foyer. The warden turned to back towards Hadar. “If the mages can’t put an end to this madness, you and I will bloody gut the bitch ourselves.” His jaw quivered with a ferocity as if steeling himself for the impending mayhem to come. A raspy moan from the creature was the only answer to the warden’s decree.

Heinrich read through what he could in order to learn more about the spell, though it was more skimming so that he would find something to end the binding spell. But knowing blood magic and its properties, he knew that there would likely be a blood seal somewhere that could be broken. He looked around him, before his eyes settled on the people that made up their party. “We need to find the glyph that makes up this spell, only then can we get out of here,” Heinrich relayed, loud enough to get their attention.

“Brilliant, you find it, I’ll get its attention,” Rose said, fixing the match cord to her musket, which she’d stopped to grab when the banshee started shrieking. Without another word, she dashed up the steps, looking for a window she could get a shot out of.

---

Heinrich

Heinrich nodded and ran to the master bedroom, assuming that the glyph would likely be close to the sacrifice.

With the foresight of one knowledgeable in the art of adjuration magic Heinrich looked frantically for any trace of a blood glyph typical of hemomancy. Much to his chagrin there were no signs of any glyph, here. All that was there to greet the young Astorian was the same grizzly seen that Rose had just reported on. Interestingly, the hands of the victim were nowhere to be seen. Other than that there was little to make note of.

Rose

Upon heading upstairs the draft from inside the study was enough to catch Rose’s attention. A broken window was all that she’d needed to line up a shot. The right-handed window would suffice. It looked out into the courtyard of the manor. The screams that had rippled through the manor seemed to die down if only for a few moments. Looking out the window there was no creature, no phantom nor monster to behold. Twas only the wind that greeted Rose.

The wind blew with a quiet fury as if it’s currents had been perturbed by some malevolent force.

The broken glass upon the window was sharp to the touch, and it’s cracking was the only sound to accompany the wind outside.

Except, the window wasn’t cracking.

What had sounded like wind one moment before was suddenly a horrid gasp. The loud screech of the banshee rang out once more... directly above Roselyn. It’s horrid, elongated, blackened claws were dug deep into the stone-walled manor. It laid against the surface of the estate, spider-like in its approach.

Its lunge was quick and unpredictable as it sought to rip the gunslinger’s head from her shoulders.

...

As if by protection of Minerva herself the same magic that repelled Elias was enough to push back the banshee before it could strike. It let out a vicious scream as it hit the ground hard.

Immediately, Rose took aim at the prone monster and fired, crouching down to reload without waiting to judge the first shot’s effect on its target.

The lead ball ripped through air as it barreled through window with a loud thunderous crack. The marksmen’s shot was enough to blast the beast in its left arm. It’s only answer to the sudden damage was an even worse scream than before. It’s gaze shifted upwards towards Roselyn as if marking its prey. As quickly as the banshee had appeared. Soon too was it gone from Rose’s sight, but it’s distant moans were enough to quell any doubts about its lingering presence.

Automatically, Rose pulled the scouring stick from below the barrel of the musket and began to tamp down the next shot, scanning out the window for a sign of the monster. “I lost it,” she called out without turning. “I don’t think it can get in!”

[Famotill]

A collab by @Blitzy, @Famotill, @Redrum and @Lauder

“Well, that’s a spot of relief, I suppose," Elias called out to the Caracan woman from the first floor. Black looked through the notes the group had brought to him again. “Perhaps there may be answers behind the wall of the kitchen.” Flipping through the notes once more he continued. “Alternatively, the wine cellar might have some answers. Whichever one of these bloody rooms that might be.”

Another scream from outside was enough to shake the ward. This scream was different. “As much as I hate to speak it into existence,” he said as he turned to the group. “I think we may be dealing with more than one of those things. If it was crying the tiefling and siren heard then there could be one in the house. If Rose’s shot was enough to make the banshee retreat, and we’re still hearing screaming directly outside of the entrance then it’s likely we’re dealing with some kind of brood.” Their roguish leader began pacing around the foyer. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Banshees are miserable creatures. One will etch out a territory for itself just so it might cry in peace. I’ve never seen them work cooperatively.”

---

Everything had happened so fast that the Siren barely had enough time to comprehend what was happening. Her melody getting interrupted, some of her party rushing upstairs, and the gun fire from Rose's musket had stunned her for a good moment. Listening to Elias, Anwyn turned her attention back to cellar door behind her, before looking at the dining area. "Well, I can use the Wisps again, check out what's in the cellar. That or Hadar and I can check out the wall behind the Kitchen." Combat, while it wasn't her absolute forte, Anwyn knew she could easily support Hadar or any of her party if a fight were to break out. Be it with her songs, or her blade.

Licking her lips anxiously, she looked back at her ward, "If we're really dealing with a brood then taking care of any Banshee's that might be in house should be top priority, no? Whatever is in the cellar hasn't attacked us yet, ya know? So maybe it's not the threat we should be focusing right now."

“Aye, a fair point. If the noise from behind the wall is a banshee it may be best to take care of it first. I just can’t imagine something the size of a banshee being stuck in a wall. There must be a room behind the wall. Otherwise, we may be dealing with a different beast entirely.” Anwyn could see Elias’ hands still trembling slightly. It did his best to steel the shaking, but he was doing a fairly poor job. “Whatever we choose to do we need be ready. Banshees move with the wind. Their speed is unparalleled. We need to corner it. That feat will be made all the easier inside of a manor.”

Anwyn gave a nod in agreement, "Right. If we can't get out, neither can whatever's in here." Taking a deep breath to calm her own nerves, Anwyn placed a comforting hand on her wards shoulder, "Don't get yourself all worked up, once this is all over I'll treat us all to some drinks at the Fort."

Stepping away from the cellar door and heading towards the dining room, Anwyn looked back at her ward and the party, "Their speed is unparalleled, eh? That's not all that special. I move with the wind when it comes to drinking, bet they couldn't beat that." Trying to ease the tension, Anwyn winked at Elias, giving him a witty smirk before twirling her blade and sheathing it. "I'll go check out the Kitchen then. Hadar -- let’s go take a look again, maybe whatever is crying behind that wall is hiding the booze too?"

As the group made their way to the kitchen the moans from behind the stone wall became increasingly apparent. Each cry more dire than the last. As the siren approached the fortified wall, with rapier unsheathed, there was a small humming that rang through the air like electricity. With a salute the sword itself began to vibrate, and in an instant was Anwyn striking the wall with a swift series of blows.

Twas as if she’d spotted every crack in the mortar. Every eroded stone. Each strike was enough to rip apart fragments of the wall revealing an awful stench, and the sight of debris. Broken wood littered the room, and upon second glance it was apparent to Anwyn that a shape lay beneath the rubble. It’s gaunt figure compressed and expanded every so slowly. Even from here it was clear that this was no human, and considering the impending doom- it was likely that this was another of the banshees.

The creature could only let out a whimper.

Ralorin stared, taken aback by the siren's ferocity. He had traveled to the furthest corners of Ithea, and nothing had ever terrified him like this. The screeches turned his blood to ice in his veins. But there, in the pile of rubble formed from the siren's attack, he felt something stir. The wood elves had always drawn on the nature of Ithea, be it the greatest tree or the lowliest worm, as a source of great power. And whatever was here was making its presence felt. Great pressure overwhelmed Ralorin; intense and magical, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Whatever it was, it whimpered before them, helpless in its wood and stone bindings. It wasn't human, nor was it elven, or dwarven, or any civilized being. It was a monster. Ralorin steeled himself, doing his best not to let his shattered nerves get the best of him. Time seemed as if it was standing still before he eventually brought himself to act. He stepped towards the source of the noise, down on one knee, sifting through brick and mortar and wood. He hoped to unearth the source of the noise. It wasn't long before the others joined him.

[Famotill]

A collaborative post by @Lauder, @Redrum and @Oxenfree

Heinrich, being unsuccessful in finding the glyph upstairs, had returned downstairs to regroup with those of the party. He was relieved to not have the banshee outside screeching every few seconds l, but he still knew that they had to get out of the manor somehow. “Unfortunately, the glyph is not upstairs, as far as I know, but I believe we-,” Heinrich was talking as he turned to enter the kitchen before stopping at the sight of those who had torn down a stone wall.

“What are you all doing?,” was all he could manage to say, unnoticing of the unknown creature that they were trying to find.

Elias looked back briefly to see the mage now standing behind him surveying the scene. “We’ve found something hidden in the wall,” Elias muttered still shaken from the banshees outside. “Not entirely sure how it ended up there, but it seems to be rather weak. It’s stuck under rubble. You can hear it’s cries,” Elias said as he motioned for Heinrich and the others to quiet down. The whimpering of the beast continued, but the raspy cries seemed a bit more agitated now. As if it knew it was being watched.

The young lad looked at Elias with confusion before he heard the weeping of the creature, his hand instinctively went the holy of his rapier as he looked towards the rubble. He silently nodded before nervously taking a few steps toward the group and awaited to see what the creature under there exactly was.

With a flick of her wrist the songblade hummed softly, but Anwyn still held it out as Elias crept towards the whimpering being. The Siren wasn't all too sure that the creature under the rubble was a Banshee, however she held her tongue as her ward inspected the crumbled wall. "Careful." She called out instinctively. As he took a step she did too, blade at the ready in case whatever was beneath the brick attacked. Anwyn began to roll her wrist softly, the songblade humming a deep tune.

It was a the beginnings of a Horrid Song. It's tune, however, was soft, and not the eerie melody the Songblade would emit to cause it's true effects. Instead it would only frighten whatever the creature was under the rubble to point of uncertainty. She could hear its agitation in its whimpering and the last thing Anwyn wanted was for it to act on it's fears. Taking another step closer now closer to the creature than Elias was, blade still at the ready, the Siren stuck out her foot and made an attempt to push off a portion of the wall that laid atop of the possible Banshee.

The shriek, as weak and hushed as it was, that followed Anwyn’s song was evidence that the creature was in fact a banshee. It squirmed with relief as a piece of the rubble that bore down on its abdomen was kicked away. From her vantage point Anwyn could see that chunks of wood impaled the Banshee, and upon looking up to find a source of the debris pieces of what looked to have been a staircase hung from what seemed to be a hidden door.

It was clear that the banshee was of little immediate threat to the party given its state, but even still Anwyn like the other mages could feel a power stemming from the monster. It was tied to this place in some way. This was no doubt the creature mentioned in the note that Heinrich found. The author of the note, Edward Frey, had undone himself in the study to avoid the beast’s wrath. Come to think of it, given the position of the room it looked as if what was left of the staircase led up towards the study. There was no easily visible door from what Heinrich and Rose had inspected, but there was likely no other possible room this room led to.

Elias looked the banshee over from behind Anwyn before giving a wince in discontent. “Easy to see why it was crying, now.” He let out a sigh. “But, banshees are typically far more hostile...territorial. Thus wee beast can hardly muster a grunt.” Looking to Anwyn Elias put a hand on her shoulder before brushing past the siren. “Nice work, lass.” He muttered. “What do you lot propose?” He said as he crouched down closer to the banshee. It let out soft growls in protest. “Most assured way to rid oneself of a banshee’s company is by fire,” the warden thought for a moment before continuing. “I hope you’re all keeping note of the wisdom I’ve been imparting,” he remarked with a playful sort of cynicism.

He ran a finger over some of the cuts that lay upon the banshees crusted skin. It felt rough to the touch, as if the creature had been victim to a fire. It winced to each touch, and let out soft hisses. “Looks like someone tried that already. Possibly, what cost these poor people their lives.”

Seeing the state of the thing, Heinrich released his grip on his blade before approaching the group in full, it was helpless though it was tied to this place in some horrid way. He crouched down next to it to study it, his crimson eyes going over the skin of the creature and watching it hiss at Elias and it seemed that Heinrich was almost curious to study it further. However, given the current circumstances he could not do such a thing as he had bigger priorities, such as finding the glyph. One of his eyebrows raised itself, before he spoke, “I am wondering if this thing may be our way out of here. The glyph that is holding the magic seal over this place may be on it. Though if we have to kill it, that would mean we would lose the chance to study it closer.”

Heinrich’s hand grasped the arm of the banshee, not aggressively or in a way that would otherwise cause it much distress, but rather gingerly. Raising it closer to his eyes to try and make out anything on it that would match some form of old elvish glyph. His motions constantly twisting and moving the armor until he was satisfied that he could not find something that would release them, “This may be one of our only chances to study one up close, or even bring it back alive for study.”

“No,” Elias protested with a sudden harshness. “We were instructed to bring hollow corpses back as your first blood hunt.” He rose from his squatted position. “That’s what we’ll do; find whatever mark you need and be done with the creature.”

Unfortunately there were no markings to be found on the beast. Even if there had been it was likely that it was seared off along with most of the banshee’s flesh. It continued its soft hissing far too weak to give any stronger contention. Though Heinrich was still relatively green to blood magic he knew enough to know that killing the source of the spell could break its hold. Without sign of the blood glyph perhaps Elias’ solution was an alternative.

“We need to find a solution to breaking whatever curse binds us to this manor.” Elias stepped out of the kitchen, and through the dining room. He made his way towards the bedroom along the same wall as the kitchen. The party could hear him rumbling through furniture, and saying curses all the while.

---

Heinrich was unconvinced by Elias’ words, looking up at the people around him before he stated, “We cannot just leave it here, something in me says we should take it with us.” The nobleman seemed oddly empathetic as he spoke softly so that Elias would not hear these words any further, looking at the banshee as it softly hissed at him. He was not sure if these creatures were capable of higher thought, especially since all they cared for was crying and screaming it seemed though his curiosity towards such a prospect was there, even though he had no clue why. In the past, he never would have cared about what these things would have had to offer, it was a newer development much alongside his red eyes.

The lad’s eyes shifted towards the red tome that he had strapped to his side, feeling the magical power trapped within though hidden from the world. Heinrich let out a sigh before taking a step away from the weak creature, almost feeling a twinge of pity for it, looking away and going to lean against the far wall. He began to contemplate what to actually do as he knew that they had to stick to their job of getting these corpses as their blood hunt, but a banshee for study is by far more useful than some dead and rotting husks. “We could try an Erasure Ward, that may dampen the spell enough for us to leave.”

That was when Rose stepped down into the cellar, pistol in hand.. “I think the thing may have scampered off, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of it - oh, shit.” She caught sight of the monster then, with Heinrich standing over its pathetic, scarred frame. Without hesitation, she stepped over to it in two great strides, fixing a match-cord to the barrel of her pistol and pressing it against the banshee’s temple. “Everyone cover your ears.”

“By the Gods woman, wait!” Heinrich scrambled from his spot against the wall to push Rose’s gun towards the floor as to avoid the woman from killing what would make an excellent subject. He let out an annoyed sigh, looking at Rose before moving his hands away from her, before saying in a quiet tone as to avoid Elias from hearing from the bedroom, “We cannot just kill what would make for an excellent test subject. It is too weak to do anything, and I’m sure the Order would like to know more about what these things are made of.” He looked back down at the banshee before he let out another aggravated sigh, “I can’t be the only one who believes this, right?”

Rose furrowed her brow, and regarded the creature again, chewing on her bottom lip. “No,” she said at last, pulling the match-cord off her pistol, “No, you’re not.” For a brief moment, she was reminded of her father, the way he’d talk when he was on the verge of a discovery, the light behind his eyes when he had the chance to learn something. He wouldn’t want to destroy something potentially so fascinating - but then, he hadn’t always made the right decisions. “It’s worth keeping alive if we can.” She held a finger up to Heinrich. “If we can. If I hear anything louder than a whisper from that thing, I’m putting a hole in its head. Any luck on getting us out of here?”

“Nothing yet, I haven’t been able to find the glyph that holds the magic here. Though if someone knew how to make a Erasure Ward, that’d probably weaken the magic enough,” Heinrich reported looking at the banshee for a moment, before thinking about best how to bind it to make sure it didn’t try anything. Probably some scraps from the bedrooms would be enough given how weak it was. His attention returned to Rose for a moment, “You wouldn’t know how to make one would you?”

“Yeah, I… don’t even know what that is,” Rose said. “Could we stress the boundary, maybe run it out of energy or whatever? Does it work like that? Because I’m carrying enough blackpowder on me for a blasting charge. Probably.”

Heinrich let out a small chuckle before speaking sarcastically, “You can certainly try.”

As the party discussed a way out, the Siren stared down at the weakened Banshee. Sheathing her songblade, the woman gave a small frown as the Banshee gave her a hiss. It was hard for the Siren to feel any kind of guilt or remorse for the creature, but in it's poor state Anwyn couldn't help it. Taking a step away from it she finally turned her attention back at the group, "Well, if the Banshee didn't have that seal or glyph you were talking about, could the house itself be marked?" Anwyn questioned, looking back and forth at Heinrich and Rose. "We haven't checked out all of the rooms in the manor yet, so there might be something we're missing."

“That is still a very good possibility, it would probably wise if searched the house top to bottom. But someone would have to stay and guard this thing,” Heinrich stated, already looking among the group before his eyes landed on the high elf. She seemed to be a good choice, but he did not know if she could even comprehend what a glyph looked like so that was his primary choice of a guard for the banshee. Though, the tiefling was also probably a good choice, but he did not know if he would just kill it on Elias’ order. “High Elf, I believe you would be a good candidate for guarding this thing. Please try not to kill it,” Heinrich said, motioning to the banshee before going to do a thorough investigation of the house, more specifically, the cellar. Amathel nodded in compliance as she and Hadar began to hogtie the beast.

Rose glanced down at the creature again while Heinrich issued his directions to the elf. It really was tiny - compared to the towering high elf and mute warrior standing around it, it was incredibly small, much more so than the one she’d shot outside. Something caught her eye as the creature shifted away from her, hissing at her proximity, and Rose snatched it up to inspect it. It was a pendant bearing the seal of Minerva - the creature had been laying on it. Of course it was Minerva - she’d come so far, and she still couldn’t get away from the Mage-rulers of Caracas. Typical.

“Wait,” she said, glancing to the high elf. “Didn’t you say you found a pendant like this in the servant’s quarters? With a stuffed toy?” She looked back down at the creature she had been about to kill so thoughtlessly as comprehension dawned on her. “... Gods. It’s a child. It was a child.”

An air of silence filled the room as the party looked to the banshee now bound before them. Sensing her hesitation Heinrich motioned for Rose to follow him out of the kitchen. Anwyn quickly followed the two as they made their way to the cellar.