Theodora stares for a couple of long moments while holding the wet fabric as she attempts to recall any sort of affliction similar to that of Verran. Although she does not come up with anything, she appears satisfied with his explanation and helps bind and seal his wounds as the cleric allows, "You're an incredible strong person to endure all this and still keep your sanity. Thank you for sharing your burdens with us. Celowyn speaks for me as well, we would be honored to escort you to Kavapesta."
Gertruda stares at Verran with a look of horror. She then screams like a little girl and runs into the closet, slamming the doors. You hear the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door from the other side.
"Well, I guess she's locking herself in for now, at least. I guess she's as safe as one can be in this place." She then looks at the double-doors leading out of the room and then glances back to the now-closed secret door.
"I think we're done here. Which way?"
"That's not exactly how I hoped this would go, but she should be okay for now, yes." Theodora says with a tired sigh. "Let's see what's beyond those double doors to the east. Could someone more perceptive check them for traps or other dangers?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Are you sure we shouldn't cut it off...just to be safe?"
"Can't say I didn't consider it, especially at first. But in the end I've learned to manage it and it hasn't spread.
"Well... o.k. Let us know if it starts to spread then. I suppose that wouldn't be the best solution for the neck thing anyway."
Petracleus nudges Damion lightly, "Lady over there", he nods towards Theodora, "Is thinking we should head eastwards... must say, I'm inclined to say the same given the grandness of the doorway. How's about you check for traps? I wouldn't put it past Strahd to incarcerate young Gertruda behind trapped doors".
Damian will nervously edge past Verran and check for traps
Daimon examines the intricately-carved double doors and does not see any signs of a trap. He also notices that the doors are unlocked.
Countessa waits, having seen nothing magical about the doors earlier, she is satisfied that no magical traps are present. Still, it would be like this Strahd to disguise a trap as non-magical...
Satisfied that the doors aren't trapped, Daimon opens them and you all step through.
A blazing hearth fire fills this room with rolling waves of red and amber light. The walls are lined with ancient books and tomes, their leather covers well oiled and preserved through careful use. All would appear to be in order here.
The stone floor is hidden beneath a luxurious woolen rug of a deep-patterned weave. A large, low table sits in the center of the room, waxed and polished to a mirrored finish. Even the poker next to the blazing fireplace is polished. Large, overstuffed divans and couches stand in order about the room. Two luxurious chairs face the hearth. In addition to the double-doors through which you entered, wooden doors lead north and south from this room.
A huge painting hangs over the mantlepiece in a heavy, gilded frame. The rolling light of the fire illuminates the carefully rendered painting. It is an exact likeness of the Burgomaster's daughter, Ireena Kolyana. Though the painting is obviously centuries old, the likeness is unmistakable.
Damion looks at Ireena with a raised eyebrow, "Is there something you aren't telling us?"
Theodora gasps despite herself when she sees the resemblance, "At least this explains his fascination with you, Ireena."
"Remarkable... the resemblance is uncanny!" Countessa tilts her head as if looking to see if there is a trick of some kind.
Slightly taken aback by the painting and it's almost perfect depiction of Ireena, Petracleus carefully considers the art - admiring the artistry at first, he starts to wonder whether there is anything arcane about the picture...
Ireena walks over to the painting with a dumbfounded expression. She stands before it, staring at it intently. "I've... I've... never seen this painting before. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that was a painting of me... but it isn't! I've never worn a dress like that, nor have I ever sat for a portrait!" She looks back at the rest of you. "How can this be?"
She then leans in close to the portrait, and points to a small plate at the bottom of the frame. "It says, 'Tatyana Stefanova.'" She turns around to face you. "I have never heard that name before!"
To Celowyn's question, she responds, "My family has lived in Barovia for centuries... from even before Strahd came to power." She looks back at the painting. "Although, like I said, I have never heard that name before."
"This seems like an ill omen, but unless one of you know what it all means, I suggest we continue forward after searching the room in more detail." Theodora says to the group, trying to return her focus on the immediate matters at hand as she looks through the room.
Damion will start to search but can't help frequently peering over his shoulder at the portrait.
Verran simply nods as he ponders the implications. "Agreed, though it is rather curious."
Theodora examines the numerous curios that sit on the bookshelves in addition to the probably thousands of volumes in this extensive library. Two that catch her eye are: a stuffed and mounted creature that seems to combine the worst features of a rooster, bat, and lizard; and a mounted mummified human hand wearing a heavy gold ring set with a blue stone in the shape of a stylized eye.
Still unnerved by the painting and its eerie likeness to herself, Ireena casually pulls a book from one of the many shelves. The title is Ruination of Ice: Creatures of Northlands. Flipping through it, she finds it to be an illustrated bestiary of creatures that live in the wild places of Irrisen and the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.
Pressing his ear to both the northern and southern doors, Daimon does not hear anything beyond them.
Talking in a low voice again, Petracleus points towards the various items that are radiating magic - the crystal decanter and the bookshelves, "It would appear that our host is a master of the arcane... there are several things here - I wonder, is it the magic that fascinates him? or is it the prestige of living far above the mundane?"
"Good eye."
Theodora is a bit overwhelmed by the sudden rush of discoveries in the room, but nods to Celowyn, "We should try that poker to see where it leads once we're done in here."
Examining the aura emanating from the decanter, Petracleus determines that it's the liquid within that's magical. Pouring a drop onto his finger while teasing out the magical aura makes him realize that the wine in the decanter has been enchanted to act as a potion of false life, and that it contains three doses.
Looking at the two faint yet distinct magical auras from the bookshelf, he cannot quite put his finger on the exact nature of either. Walking over, he sees that one aura is coming from a copy of a book entitled The History and Future of Humanity, and the other is called Accounts of the Lost Angel by Lady Saphon Laghanni.
Daimon examines the poker and realizes that it's actually set into a mechanism concealed beneath the bricks of the fireplace. Finding no obvious traps, he twists the handle and feels something release... he then pulls the poker straight up. An iron rod is attached to the tip of the poker, which extents up from the slot in the bricks. At that, you hear the scraping of stone-on-stone, and you see the blazing fire in the fireplace flicker dramatically. Looking into the fireplace, you see that a small stone door has opened behind the flames, and a corridor extends east.
Verran notes the first book and picks it up. "Fascinating, you don't see Aroden's scripture many places, especially in this kind of condition."
He quirks an eyebrow as Damion messes with the poker and is seemingly unsuprirsed when the secret enterance opens. "Another secret in this castle, I've stopped being astonished.
Petracleus points out the magical texts. Verran pulls the copy of the Arodenite scripture off the shelf. He notices that there is a piece of parchment folded inside the back cover.
"Maybe he's been ruling these lands for a long time. Is it true that vampires exist until they are destroyed?"
Once the room is fully investigated and the items are looked over by the group, Theodora will go first into the fireplace corridor unless someone beats her to it.
Petracleus looks at the document held by Verran, nodding as the priest comments on the rarity of Aroden texts... hand at his rapier, he gets ready to follow Theodora into the secret passage...
Petracleus notices that it's actually the parchment that's radiating magic, and not the Arodenite text itself. Examining it, he sees that it's a magic spell scroll...
...but the bard can't quite decypher it. He thinks it's probably some kind of transmutation spell.
Momentarily Lost in looking over the extensive library, Countessa hears Petracleus mention that he can't quite get a handle on the magica aura and snaps back to attention. "Let me take a look at those..." First, she casts a spell and examines the scroll that Verran and Petracleus examined. "This scroll contains a spell that would allow the caster to assume the physical form of an animal!"
Going over to the shelf that Petracleus pointed out, Countessa then casts another spell and examines the aura on the other magical text. She does not, however, take the book from the shelf.
"That's odd... I can't discern the nature of this aura, either. The book is magical, but I can't tell how or in what way!"
"And I can't say that I've ever heard of this title or the author."
Theodora: A well-stoked fire still blazes in the fireplace, between you and the door. It's throwing off a lot of heat... which under other circumstances would be quite pleasant. There's really no way to avoid stepping on the burning logs or coals: You will have to stoop over to enter the fireplace. And the secret door that opens on the back wall of the fireplace is only about four feet tall and three feet wide, so yuo'll need to squeeze through it.
"Hmm." Theodora utters while she considers the fire problem, "Can anyone cast a spell to create a bunch of water or ice? Otherwise it might not be worth getting burned to see what's beyond this."
"Hold up a moment, I can create water" Damion says, unlacing his pants. "You might want to plug your nose"
Petracleus looks doubtful at Celowyn's suggestion of letting the fire burn itself out, "We could... but that would likely take some time. Shall we instead head southwards?". His hand still upon the hilt of his rapier, he listens at the southern door...
Ireena half-smirks then shakes her head. "I hope you drank a LOT, Daimon. A fire like that will need several gallons of water to put out. I think you're only going to make a lot of stinky steam."
"Please don't, Daimon." Theodora says quietly with an uncomfortable expression, then turns Petracleus, "Good idea, let's go that way."
"I wonder..." Countessa studies the fire carefully for a moment, letting her mind seek arcane energies.
(Detect magic on the fire and fireplace.)
"Eh? Oh all right." He'll lace himself up and sulk over to a corner.
Countessa does not see any magical auras radiating from either the fire or fireplace.
Pressing his ear to the door to the south, Petracleus hears no sounds on the other side.
"Good idea, Celowyn. We'll have to come back if we find some water." Assuming it's not locked, Theodora then proceeds to open the door that Petracleus checked and moves through it.
Following closely behind Theodora, Petracleus is ready for whatever fell deeds that Strahd may throw their way...
You open the door to the south and Theodora and Petracleus setp through.
Dust fills your lungs. The musty smell of death and decay swirls around you. Before you, a long table of polished oak lies beneath a blanket of dust. The rotting table cloth lies tattered beneath dusty china plates and stained silverware. In the centerof the table, a large, tiered cake leans heavily to one side. The once white frosting has turned green with age. Cobwebs drape like dusty lace down every side. A single doll figure of a well-dressed woman adorns the crest of the cake under thick layers of dust. A window in the south wall is draped with heavy curtain. A small platform rises about a foot from the floor in the southeast corner of the room, holding dusty, overturned chairs. Ornately-carved wooden doors lead east and west.
The contrast between the opulence of what came before against the decay in this room takes Petracleus aback momentarily... holding his sleeve up to his mouth so that he does not breathe in the full decay, he looks for magic in the room...
...and starts to wonder about the significance of the solitary figure upon the cake.