Chapter Two: Death House: Dungeon (Pt.2)

Something wicked,
Lies below,
You greatly fear it,
But still must go.

Chants and shadows,
Claws and bones,
Chains of iron,
And a guttural moan.

But you’re men of valour!
Brave and stout!
So into the dungeon,
You step without doubt.

Will you survive?
But of course!
Or we’d miss this discourse, In fair Barovia!

Opting for safety over bravado, the party decided to clear the basement level before heading any further down. You quietly backtracked to the unexplored area, where you found several empty chambers, evidently used as Cultist quarters.

One room contained a well, and there were several locked chests in the bed chambers. Bannor made quick work of the locks and you retrieved some gems, coins, an jeweled leather eye patch for Zane and a ivory hairbrush for Zandeyr.

Confident now that nothing would surprise you from behind, you headed down the stairs, which opened into a large reliquary, the ghostly chanting now filling the room: “He is the ancient. He is the land”.

The room contained thirteen niches along the walls, and in each was a relic that the Cult had collected. They ranged from mummified claws to a shrivelled halfling head, a dire wolfs withered tongue to a bag full of guano. The latter of which Zane decided to toss innocently to his father, which was cut from the air midflight and exploded in a shower of spores to everyone’s momentary horror.

After examining the unpleasant but powerless ‘relics’, you felt confident that this cult was more about human evils then supernatural, confirming the earlier conclusion Zandeyr had reached when studying the worthless tomes upstairs.

There were two exits from this room, one leading to a rusty iron portcullis behind which water could be seen, and another which you followed first that led to some kind of prison complex. Cells lined the corridor, with shackled skeletons strung up on the walls — one of which still had a glittering gold ring on a bony finger.

You returned to the portcullis and set about lifting it. Viktor and Garn’s combined strength managed to raise the gate, and Zane scooted through to find a wooden wheel that he used to lock the entrance open.

You found yourselves in a ritual chamber, and as you entered the chanting fell suddenly silent, which made you more uncomfortable than the incessant chant had.

The chamber was a forty foot square room, with smooth masonry walls. Featureless stone pillars supported the ceiling, and murky water covered most of the floor. Around the edge of the room dry stone ledges hugged the walls, and in the centre of the room an octagonal dais rose above the waters. Rusty chains with shackles dangled from the 16ft high ceiling, above a stone alter mounted on the dais.

You cautiously started exploring the room. The water was about 2 feet deep, the ledges and dais 3 feet higher than that. In the far wall, a natural alcove contained a half submerged pile of refuse. Zane waded through the water to the dais and climbed the steps to the alter.

As soon as he reached the top, thirteen dark apparitions appeared on the ledges overlooking the room. Each resembled a black-robed figure with a void for a face, holding a black torch that seemed to absorb rather than emit light. They immediately started chanting, but this time the message was more ominous: “One must die! One must die!”

The figures were ethereal and didn’t respond to any interactions you tried, nor could you stop the chanting. Xarann and Viktor started investigating the refuse pile, and suddenly realised it was somehow alive. Quickly warning the rest of the party, you assumed defensive positions and unleashed a flurry of arrows into the pile.

A huge shambling mound of creature emerged with a moan from the water, and proceeded to attack everyone nearby. Tentacles and a gaping maw inflicted nasty wounds on the melee group, and a tentacle lashed out, wrapped itself around Garn, and drew him into it’s hideous body, enveloping him completely. The barrage of attacks from the party distracted the beast long enough for Garn fight his way free, bodily ejected and flung gasping onto the dais.

The creature eventually fell under the flurry of blows you meted out, foul green fluid leeching from it into the water. Garn and the other injured downed the last of the healing potions, and solving the mystery of the chant became your focus.

It seemed clear that a blood sacrifice was expected, and you tried various means to accomplish that, spilling blood on the alter, dangling from the chains, and placing and burning the collection of ‘relics’ from the higher room. None stopped the chant nor disrupted the figures.

Bannor and Xarann noticed when you were retrieving the relics that the entire house above sounded like it was shifting and rumbling, as if the earth was moving around you. Returning to the chamber seemed to make that inexplicable movement subside.

It seemed a living creature was required, and eventually Viktor had the brainwave that perhaps a spider could be captured from the cobwebbed attic above. You moved back upstairs, the sound of the house moving became more clear. Emerging into the attic room, you were shocked to find that the doorways were now slashing scythe-blades, the windows bricked over, and wisps of acrid smoke were creeping along the floor.

You hurriedly captured a lone spider and rushed back to the chamber. You took a rock and smashed it down onto the hapless arachnid. Immediately the apparitions vanished and the chanting stopped.

You cautiously made your way back upstairs to find the house had resumed it’s prior configuration. You exited back into the foggy lands of Barovia, wondering what strangeness lay ahead, as the house stood silent and watchful behind you.

Curse of Strahd

Chapter Two: Death House: Dungeon (Pt.2)

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