Story Time Episode 4: The Third Floor
Disclaimer: The following narrative depicts events, characters and locations that feature in the 5th Edition Dungeons & Dragons campaign Curse of Strahd. Curse of Strahd is the property of © Wizards of the Coast 2016. Character depictions are a product of heroforge.com
From their position on the balcony, the party have several choices. They could move downstairs, explore the first floor and ground floor of the house. Or they could move through the rooms on the second floor.
"We've done this wrong. Now we're in the belly of the beast..." Pie-Ella whispered, looking over her shoulder at the door to the bedroom that slammed behind them.
Weepee sighed, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Maybe, but we have no choice but to continue forward."
Sir Philip scowled in frustration and kicked the leg of the rusted suit of armour on the balcony, leaving a sizeable dent in the plate. A resonant clang echoed through the stairwell. "How did this land get so bad? So.. cursed?!"
The suit of armour slumped slightly on its dented leg, then rotated its head to look at Sir Philip. He jumped back with an audible yelp as the suit stood to its full height, hefting the morningstar it was decorated with. It took a step, two steps, then swung the spiked mace at Philips' head. He ducked just in time for the mace to swing above his head. Alerted by the sound of the yelp, the rest of the group turned on their heels to face the suit. It let out a groan of metal, then moved to attack again. It swung the morningstar in a wide arc, splintering the wood of Sir Philips shield. Philip stumbled back several steps into the rest of the party.
As it took its first step forward, an arrow planted in its chest, knocking it back several paces. The arrow, loosed from Deilis' longbow, held fast in the metal. It was followed closely by a well placed eldritch blast from Weepee. Pie-Ella stepped in and forced the suit back further, slashing into the metal with her shortsword. The suit flailed its Morningstar in desperation, clipping Pie-Ella on the ribs and drawing blood through her hardened leather. With a bellowing roar, Philip stepped forward and jabbed the suit in the chest with his trident, forcing the suit of armour over the railing of the balcony. Not a moment later, the suit crashed to the ground two floors below, unmoving.
The group regained their composure and tended to wounds. Sir Philip held his hands over the cut in Pie-Ella's side and begun praying to his god. His hands glowed with divine energy for a moment then faded, the wound beneath being stitched back together in an instant.
"Thanks.." Pie-Ella gasped as he skin mended, wiping the blood from her leather. "It was just a scratch really..."
Sir Philip nodded in response, moving to bandage his damaged arm. The shield took the brunt of the hit but a spike forced its way through, piercing his forearm. When finished, he looks to the group sheepishly, hoping they ignored the fact that he activated the living armour.
The adventurers moved through a set of double doors on the balcony into what appeared to be an empty master bedroom. The bedroom, like much of the house, didn't appear to be lived in in the last century. As they stepped into the room, walls groaned and the eyes of the paintings followed them. An exotic animal pelt lay on the ground near an empty blackened fireplace and a small door led into a small wardrobe. The door to the balcony was locked and for the life of her, Pie-Ella could not pick the lock. It was as if the house itself was stopping her from getting out. She would secure one pin and move on to the next, and as she secured the second, the first would snap.
Moving on from the master bedroom, the adventurers stepped into a bathroom. A claw-foot tub stood on the far end of the room, a small furnace to heat the tub and a sink furnished the room.
"Look." Whispered Deilis, pointing at the tub.
On closer inspection, a mass lay in the tub, a withered arm hanging from the side and a stained blanket lay over top. Deilis crept forward, reaching a hand out to lift the sheet. As she pulled the sheet back, what faced the party was the body of Deilis herself. Withered, aged and stabbed several times in the chest. The party gasped, utterly shocked by the sight in front of them. The body lay there for several seconds then began to melt, filling the tub with thick, dark blood. First, the withered flesh melted down to the bones, followed by the bones cracking and dissolving in the blood. Disgusted by the sight, the party moved from the bathroom.
The last door on the floor was a closet. Mouldy sheets and old cloth. A broom sat at the far end, leaning against the wall. Weepee stepped into the closet and reached for a bar of soap sitting on the shelf.
"Better clean than sorry right?" He said, with a bright grin.
The grin faded rapidly as he felt a sharp smack on the back of his head. Turning, he noticed the broom had moved towards him and was in the process of attacking him. Small cuts and lacerations appeared on Weepee's face and arms. He flailed back against the broom, pushing it further into the closet before tumbling out of it and slamming the door close behind him, the bar of soap in hand.
The rest of the party was folded over in laughter, tears in their eyes. "That was the best display of athleticism I have ever seen!" Deilis said between gasps.
Once composed, the party made their way to the stairs, preparing themselves for the floor below. The party began moving down, Sir Philip in the lead and were caught completely unaware as the steps flattened into a slide. The party slid rapidly down the stairs, landing in a pile on the second floor.
The adventurers were now trapped on the second floor, cut off from the floor above.
From their position on the balcony, the party have several choices. They could move downstairs, explore the first floor and ground floor of the house. Or they could move through the rooms on the second floor.
"We've done this wrong. Now we're in the belly of the beast..." Pie-Ella whispered, looking over her shoulder at the door to the bedroom that slammed behind them.
Weepee sighed, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Maybe, but we have no choice but to continue forward."
Sir Philip scowled in frustration and kicked the leg of the rusted suit of armour on the balcony, leaving a sizeable dent in the plate. A resonant clang echoed through the stairwell. "How did this land get so bad? So.. cursed?!"
As it took its first step forward, an arrow planted in its chest, knocking it back several paces. The arrow, loosed from Deilis' longbow, held fast in the metal. It was followed closely by a well placed eldritch blast from Weepee. Pie-Ella stepped in and forced the suit back further, slashing into the metal with her shortsword. The suit flailed its Morningstar in desperation, clipping Pie-Ella on the ribs and drawing blood through her hardened leather. With a bellowing roar, Philip stepped forward and jabbed the suit in the chest with his trident, forcing the suit of armour over the railing of the balcony. Not a moment later, the suit crashed to the ground two floors below, unmoving.
The group regained their composure and tended to wounds. Sir Philip held his hands over the cut in Pie-Ella's side and begun praying to his god. His hands glowed with divine energy for a moment then faded, the wound beneath being stitched back together in an instant.
"Thanks.." Pie-Ella gasped as he skin mended, wiping the blood from her leather. "It was just a scratch really..."
Sir Philip nodded in response, moving to bandage his damaged arm. The shield took the brunt of the hit but a spike forced its way through, piercing his forearm. When finished, he looks to the group sheepishly, hoping they ignored the fact that he activated the living armour.
The adventurers moved through a set of double doors on the balcony into what appeared to be an empty master bedroom. The bedroom, like much of the house, didn't appear to be lived in in the last century. As they stepped into the room, walls groaned and the eyes of the paintings followed them. An exotic animal pelt lay on the ground near an empty blackened fireplace and a small door led into a small wardrobe. The door to the balcony was locked and for the life of her, Pie-Ella could not pick the lock. It was as if the house itself was stopping her from getting out. She would secure one pin and move on to the next, and as she secured the second, the first would snap.
Moving on from the master bedroom, the adventurers stepped into a bathroom. A claw-foot tub stood on the far end of the room, a small furnace to heat the tub and a sink furnished the room.
"Look." Whispered Deilis, pointing at the tub.
On closer inspection, a mass lay in the tub, a withered arm hanging from the side and a stained blanket lay over top. Deilis crept forward, reaching a hand out to lift the sheet. As she pulled the sheet back, what faced the party was the body of Deilis herself. Withered, aged and stabbed several times in the chest. The party gasped, utterly shocked by the sight in front of them. The body lay there for several seconds then began to melt, filling the tub with thick, dark blood. First, the withered flesh melted down to the bones, followed by the bones cracking and dissolving in the blood. Disgusted by the sight, the party moved from the bathroom.
The last door on the floor was a closet. Mouldy sheets and old cloth. A broom sat at the far end, leaning against the wall. Weepee stepped into the closet and reached for a bar of soap sitting on the shelf.
"Better clean than sorry right?" He said, with a bright grin.
The grin faded rapidly as he felt a sharp smack on the back of his head. Turning, he noticed the broom had moved towards him and was in the process of attacking him. Small cuts and lacerations appeared on Weepee's face and arms. He flailed back against the broom, pushing it further into the closet before tumbling out of it and slamming the door close behind him, the bar of soap in hand.
The rest of the party was folded over in laughter, tears in their eyes. "That was the best display of athleticism I have ever seen!" Deilis said between gasps.
Once composed, the party made their way to the stairs, preparing themselves for the floor below. The party began moving down, Sir Philip in the lead and were caught completely unaware as the steps flattened into a slide. The party slid rapidly down the stairs, landing in a pile on the second floor.
The adventurers were now trapped on the second floor, cut off from the floor above.
Comments
Post a Comment