Pleased to make the acquaintance of each of you. Anya nods respectfully to each person as they're introduced. Andric, can you say hello to our visitors? Come on, say hello. But the little lord doesn't seem eager; he buries his face into his mother's skirt shyly, and Anya soon gives up the attempt. After introductions are complete, Anya sits and motions for everyone to join her, waving Laurentiu out. Laurentiu, can you see Andric to his nursery? And fetch a tray for our guests, if you would be so kind. Surely they're weary from their long travels.
At Milo's closing comment, Anya's face grows more serious, though she maintains her composure. I know...it's terrible to have such plague among us. But fortunately the house itself has not been too hard hit; the first two to get sick were of our staff, but since then none have fallen ill, thank the Midnight Lord. But...we have lost more staff than just those two lost to the plague. You've met Gavril. She nods toward the houndsmaster politely.
There are several other like him in town, shadow-born. For ages, my husband's family have kept shadow-born servants on staff, even though many of Karpad's residents harbor some dark notions about them...but now the townsfolk are blaming them for the tallowthroat, can you believe it? And my husband seems to have bought into the fervor - he dismissed all of our shadow-born servants a few weeks past. To keep me and Andric safe, I suppose. But it has made the house...much quieter than I would like.
The first victims? Not much to tell...they were gardeners, a man and woman named Urix and Devia. Father Miklos came to see to them, and it seemed they were getting better for a time, but they fell ill again, and passed before the Father could return, being so weak already from their first bout with it. I'm afraid we don't know much else. My lord husband has theories, but... She lapses into silence, and her polite, gracious demeanor begins to show slight cracks of concern.
Stepan...somehow, he blames himself for all this. It's absurd, I know, but he can't get the idea out of his head, and he grows more despondent day by day. I hope you do find out what's causing it - not only for Karpad's sake, but for my husband's.
Milo rubs at his face. "Yes. Well. There are some undead, too," he says, to clarify Kinvara's last words. He looks earnestly at Anya.
"I think that your husband may be trying to fix the problem but that-- his solution may be making things worse, unfortunately. Kinvara's not wrong: it would be very good if we could speak with the baron. Vital, even. For the sake of the town... his sake, your sake... even little Andric's. Is there any possible way you might convince him to meet with us...?"
As Kinvara and Milo speak, Anya's welcoming demeanor cracks even further, and her face grows ashen. Lynch mob? This...light creature you spoke of? Undead? I knew there had been disappearances, and of course the plague weighs heavily on all minds...but I never knew of this... She stands up, the look on her face perfectly poised between fear, despair, and outrage. You're right, Milo - Stepan must hear of this, and perhaps it will have the most impact coming from those who have seen it happening. Come, we'll go to his study. I care not whether or not he wants visitors; he has to receive you.
She opens the sitting room door and ushers you into a corridor, rushing past Laurentiu and almost knocking the tray he carries out of his hands. Oh, I'm so sorry, Laurentiu - here, come with us to His Lordship's study. We'll take the service in there.
With you and Laurentiu in tow, Anya marches up the stairs outside the sitting room, bustling over to an ornately carved darkwood door and knocking gently but firmly. Stepan? There's news from town, and you'll want to hear it for yourself...Stepan, darling? We have visitors who must see you.
But from the other side of the door comes only a thin voice. Anya, dearest...no, you can't, it's not safe...they're coming for me, they're coming for me!
Anya sighs and knocks again. I don't know who they are, but it's certainly not our guests, and they have much and more to tell you, that you've missed shut away in there...open this door!
Finally, you hear shuffling in the room beyond; the lock turns and the door opens, revealing a richly appointed study with a long-legged desk and several intricately carved cabinets. Like much of the manor, its former grandeur is masked by wear and age, as well as heaps of books, ledgers, and correspondence in disarray. The man himself is in little better shape; red and black finery hangs off a once-sturdy frame beginning to thin from worry and neglect, and his chiseled, clean-shaven features are marred by a somber, panicked look.
What is it? What do you want?
"M'lord Stephen, my name is Xander Ravencourt. Our family's ties are not as close as they were in ages past, but when my family heard about the troubles in Karpad, I was sent to see if I could offer aid."
"With me are Milo, who is a childhood friend of your wife, and Kinvara, who is familiar with supernatural afflictions."
"We have only been in town one day, but we have already discovered that the creature Ilquis, who you made a bargain with in hopes of finding a cure for Tallowthroat, was instead kidnapping townsfolk and killing them in the Chandlery. In your name."
"Between the disease and the missing people, the town was ready to lynch a child this morning."
"We knew that you would want to know these things, and we are here to offer our help to you and your people."
Stepan nods curtly at the introduction, but as Xander's accusation continues, he grows visibly more upset. How could you accuse me of such - I - I would never... Then suddenly his shoulders sag as if in defeat, and his expression is unquestionably one of remorse. Come in, visitors. We have much to discuss.
You enter the well-appointed study and sit in worn velvet-cushioned chairs Stepan gestures toward. Anya and Laurentiu move to follow behind, but Stepan stops them with a wave. Laurentiu, set the tray down and leave us to speak alone. My lady... He takes Anya's hand in his and tucks a curl of hair behind her ear, retreating to a corner with her and speaking softly, though there's no keeping secrets in the small room.
Stay if you wish; you deserve to hear the truth from me. But...whatever they may have already claimed to know about me, and whatever I say in the next moments...I'm different now, Anya, with you and Andric here. You've made me better, and there's so much I wish I could take back...
With a tender kiss on his wife's cheek, Stepan joins you in sitting around an ebony table, Laurentiu’s tray sitting atop it. Anya stays in place for a moment, doubt etched into her features, but finally she joins the group as well, looking at Stepan with an unreadable mixture of emotions. Stepan pours a dark amber liquid from a crystal decanter into a small glass and drains it in one swallow with a grimace, then begins to speak.
You’re right, strangers. I made a deal with the lurker, though I never gave him permission to kill Karpad’s residents - my intention was quite the opposite. I meant to protect my town, my wife, my son...a creature so at one with the light had to be able to hold the darkness at bay. I told him to do what needed to be done to protect Karpad…but fey are notorious for twisting words to suit their purposes...I should have I should never have
He stops speaking for a moment to regain his composure, then continues. I should have known better...but...I had little other recourse. When I was young, I discovered a powerful artifact tucked into a back room of the manor, called a midnight mirror. I’d heard of them before in my studies - they were bestowed by the Prince of Darkness to his worshippers, as a prison of sorts. The mirror is a link to another place, somewhere on the Plane of Shadow; inside it, a person never ages past their adulthood, never dies. It sounds benevolent, but it’s designed to doom its prisoners to an eternity of torment…
Well, as I said, I discovered the mirror in my youth. This particular one had a long history - it was used to call a powerful nightshade during the Age of Darkness, and the process of delivering such a powerful creature...weakened it somehow. The command that used to call prisoners forth from the prison no longer works, though it can still be commanded to take someone, and it no longer forms a perfect barrier between our plane and the Shadow Realm. No creatures can escape, but some of the...shadow stuff, the essence of the Shadow Realm, can seep through.
It had quite a history for my family as well - nearly a millennium ago, there was a powerful creature, a shae called Nicasor, that worked as an advisor to my forebear. He served us for decades, but he had ulterior motives. As long as anyone can remember, there’s been a large fetchling population in the area, and at that time there were far more of Nicasor’s kind than there are now. He led them in a revolution against my family, and was very nearly successful, but in the end the Boroi family managed to prevail, and Nicasor and his band of rabble-rousers were sent to the mirror.
So when I looked into the mirror, this creature of darkness stared back at me. At the time, I had a...problem that I needed help to solve. Nicasor agreed to help me, as long as I gave him something in return. No one can be called forth from the mirror in truth anymore, but if one being on each side touches the mirror, their souls can switch, each taking residence in the other’s body. I agreed to allow Nicasor to use my body as a vessel to return to the material world, one year of every ten, and he agreed to aid me in return.
But… He looks to Anya with a mixed look of adoration and terror. then my Anya came into my life, and our son was born. This is the tenth year after our deal - I couldn’t let that creature near my wife, or my heir...even if he took no interest in harming them directly, imagine what kind of emotional hurt his cruelty could cause? My son needed his father, my wife her husband, my town its leader...so I reneged on the deal...Nicasor stays within the mirror still. The boundary between their world and ours remains weak - I could feel his ire crossing the gap.
So I treated with the fey to hold the darkness at bay. I never meant for Ilquis to hurt anyone - but their blood is on my hands as surely as if I had drawn the knife myself. His head drops into his hands, and he fights to hold back tears. Is Ilquis still at liberty? Should I expect more blood to flow from my bargains?
Stepan's face pales at Kinvara's connection between the mirror and the plague ravaging the town. You're - you're sure of this? Then it's as I feared...I'd prayed it wasn't true...Nicasor's malevolence is crossing the boundary - he seeks to destroy me! If this disease is caused by shadows using my subjects as nesting grounds...you speak truly; it must be stopped.
But I couldn't...to stop it, I must ask too much of you... He sighs heavily. If you truly wish to help, know that it is a risky proposition. The only way to stop the spread of the shadow essence would be to destroy the path between the planes - the mirror itself. But destroying a midnight mirror is no simple task.
There is an intelligence, a consciousness, that maintains the space inside. The only way to destroy the mirror is to go inside it and kill the manifestation of that consciousness with a shard of the mirror as it exists on this plane. I've no idea what form that manifestation takes, but it should be distinctive; you'll know it on sight. My family took care to keep the pieces of the mirror together; I have a shard you can take with you.
But this mirror is flawed, remember - I cannot call you back once you enter. The only way to leave it again wholly as yourself is to succeed in destroying it; once you do, the prison will be destroyed and all inside it that originated from the Material Plane will be disgorged through the mirror's frame and back into our world. Which includes all its prisoners...
Stepan's expression grows even more worried at the thought of the mirror's inhabitants, but he goes on resolutely. So this is what I must ask of you. Enter the mirror and destroy it, and know that should you be unequal to the task, there is no return. But if you do not, we may be plagued with this disease forever, if Miss Doone's guess is correct. Do all you must do to prepare; all you may need will be provided for from my treasury. I would not have you fail for lack of something I could have provided.
"So when we return, all the prisoners will as well?" Xander said, a brow raised.
"You're going to need a place to lock them back up again. And a lot of soldiers to get them there."
Milo's brows draw together as Stepan speaks, emotions (mostly worry) flickering over his face.
....yeah, he still likes his idea of abducting Anya (they can take her child too, that's fine) and just leaving this damned town, and the baron, to suffer the consequences of his bargain...
He glances at Anya's face, and sighs. Probably she wouldn't go along with it once she'd woken up. Milo rubs with one hand at the fingers of the other.
"More shadows... like those two in the chandlery?" he asks, words directed more at the others than at Stepan. "Ugh. My blade is little use against such things, but I'll do what I can, I suppose."
He glances back towards the baron. "--have you any enchanted blade, in that treasury of yours?" he asks hopefully. It's worth a shot, anyway. "Mine own is well-made steel, but only steel."
Milo gets to his feet to pace around the study, trying not to think too hard about being stuck in a plane of shadow forever and ever. He comes to a stop after a few steps, and looks sharply at the baron. "Out of curiosity: that first problem you wanted solving, that led you to strike this bargain.... was that getting rid of your siblings, to clear the path to the barony?"
At Xander's response, Stepan can't help but let out a nervous laugh. You're not entirely wrong there. But from stories of the time, most of Nicasor's followers weren't necessarily passionate converts of his cause - they were perfectly willing to ride on his coattails, and he was certainly charismatic, but they weren't instigating much themselves. After nearly ten centuries in the mirror, it may be that, offered a chance to return to our world, they wouldn't give us much trouble.
No, it's Nicasor that worries me - his hate toward my family will only have grown stronger with years of what he might see as martyrdom, and now it will have grown personal... His head bows under the weight of his thoughts. If you choose to do nothing about Nicasor, so be it; I'll accept the consequences of reneging on our bargain. But I fear what will happen to Karpad's human residents if he's let loose, and we have no prison that could hold him. That's why we needed the mirror in the first place. If he picks up his revolution where he left off...for Karpad's sake...Andric's sake, and Anya's...take care of him, if you can.
In the silence after his request, Milo speaks up, and Stepan turns toward him. Magic weapons? Yes...my father's brother was an expert duelist...made quite a name for himself performing exhibitions in Cheliax. I believe he finally curried the favor of a noblewoman in Westcrown, a sorceress I think, and got her to imbue his rapier with some sort of magics. We can go to the armory and see if it's still there -
Then Milo interrupts with his final question, and the look that crosses Stepan's face contains so many emotions it's almost difficult to separate them all. What? How could you know about - h-how...you have no proof! Their coffins lie in my family's crypt - But as before, his consternation gives way to remorse, and his eyes fall to the floor. Yes.
Yes, that was why I treated with him. The plan was Nicasor's - he would use what will of his could escape through the cracks to help me lure Iozif and Henric to the mirror, and restrain them once they were inside so they could never reach it to switch places with another and reveal the truth. He said to claim sudden illness and send coffins to the crypt, weighted with rocks to feel as if they were occupied. With them gone, my way was clear...
He turns to Anya, sitting at the room's edge with a look of fear and horror in her eyes. I never meant for you to know. A dark man I was then, young and foolish, and it seems my foolishness has only increased. Nicasor was trapped in the mirror; I was mad enough to think that nothing ill would come of simply neglecting to follow up on our bargain. I couldn't leave you and Andric to his whims, nor Karpad...I swear it, Anya, I've changed. You've changed me. Leave if you must; I'll understand it. But I'll do everything in my power to raise Andric differently...to be a better man than his father...
Anya, still mute with shock, can only stare.
"So your brothers are in there too. And they'll be freed when the mirror breaks."
"This doesn't bode well for you, your Grace. They'll want revenge. They'll probably call it justice. They might even be right."
"Not a fate I would enjoy...."
Milo smiles sardonically when the truth of Stepan's brothers' deaths comes out. "Welcome to Nidal family values," he mutters-- but he does it very quietly, out of respect for Anya, at least. if not Stepan himself.
A blade, though: that will be useful. He gives a nod. "I'll be sure to inspect the armory before we proceed."
He nods at Kinvara's question-- that would be useful to know, yes.
Stepan stares morosely at a distant spot on the floor. What will be, will be. By the Prince of Darkness, I have earned any retribution that may come my way... He lets out another remorseful sigh.
As for the prison, well, it's an enclave of the Plane of Shadow, separated from the rest of that plane. The shadow-stuff the plane is made of is mutable; it twists itself into different shapes, and I imagine this enclave is no different. At least, when I saw Nicasor, it wasn't blankness behind him; in truth, what I saw behind him looked much like mine own manor, but strange somehow, and built of something I can only describe as solid darkness. It's said that there is an intelligence maintaining the prison; perhaps it listened to Nicasor's whims and constructed something like the manor he had served in so long.
I could only see a few feet behind him, though - I think the only light in there was what was surrounding me on this side of the mirror, and it seemed to have some trouble piercing the darkness. In fact, according to my studies of the Shadow Plane, light has a difficult time penetrating the entire realm, even light magics. Of course, being surrounded by shadow essence, spells that mold shadows are quite effective.
Time does pass inside the mirror, but it doesn't have the same effect on those within - as I've said, its inhabitants don't age past their prime. Food and drink shouldn't be necessary inside, either; the prison does all it can to sustain its guests. That doesn't mean the inhabitants can't pass, though, if violence, despair, or the inhospitality of the realm itself should take them. And, of course, the prison is closed - the only way in is for someone to give the command to send you in, and the only way out is to switch bodies with someone on the outside or to destroy the consciousness holding the prison together. Or death - but I pray that's not the way you leave it.
Let me take you to the armory now, if you wish. We can see if there's anything else there that you or your companions may benefit from. Is there aught any of the rest of you require?
Stepan rises slowly after a few moments of silence; his already-weathered face shows several new lines of concern and fear from the conversation of the last several minutes. I'll show you to the armory, then. As you leave the study, he gestures down the hallway to the right. My library is at your disposal should you wish to research more. But if there's aught else to discover in the books in there, I haven't found it, though I've searched for weeks.
Anya stays in her seat as everyone begins to shuffle out; finally, she rises and follows out of the study. But instead of following her husband, she turns to a room across the hall. She gives Stepan only a fleeting glance before opening the door to a comfortably appointed bedchamber, but that brief look holds a torrent of emotions. As the door closes behind her, you see her walk to a high-sided crib and reach in, taking young Andric into her arms and beginning to hum a simple, silly song.
Stepan watches his wift depart, then continues back down the stairs with heavy step to a room across the hallway from the sitting room in which you met with Anya and Gavril before. As Stepan fiddles with the slightly rusted latch, you hear barks and yips from the next room over, indicating indoor kennels. The door to the kennel is one of the soundest-looking and best cared-for you've seen so far.
Stepan finally coaxes the latch into working and opens the door to the armory. Polearms, swords, and shields emblazoned with the Boroi red bear rest haphazardly against wooden racks, many of them clearly in need of sharpening, oiling, or other maintenance. The room otherwise bears no decoration; clearly, it's meant to be functional rather than attractive.
Stepan walks in and searches the racks appraisingly, wandering in the aisles between them. Several seconds later, he nods and leans forward, pulling out a rapier that looks to be in much better repair than most of the other weapons. Intricate gold filligree decorates the slim, flexible blade, and the Boroi crest is worked on the handle in inlays of ruby and onyx. Ah, yes, here it is. Hopefully it will serve you well - Milo, was it?
And if another of you requires a weapon, I've found this. He brings forth a halberd, fairly plain in decoration but faintly shimmering in the torchlight. One of the town's guards distinguished himself in the defense of the temple several generations ago, and the Umbral Court saw fit to gift him an enchanted weapon in thanks. His line died out, however, and his last descendant willed the weapon to our armory, that it might continue to serve Karpad. I can think of no better way to honor its legacy than if you took it.
Now, if you require anything else, you have only to ask. My wife and I have already dined, and Laurentiu brought some light refreshment to my study, but if you need more substantial repast I can have the servants bring something together. If you require a place to stay, we have rooms available. I...can't thank you enough for this. Karpad thanks you, for what you're about to do.
Milo takes the blade eagerly, giving a few testing thrusts mid-air. "A nice enough blade!" he admits.
He looks to the others-- when the inside of the shadow prison was discussed, he mostly felt out of his depth. Give him a pretty girl to charm, a balcony to leap from, an alley in which to engage in a bit of skulduggery.... well and good. But another plane of existence? That's magic; that's Xander's area, and, he supposes, Kinvara's as well.
He doesn't like the idea of poor light, in this shadow realm. One can't accurately stab what one can't see. He muses on this problem as he darts forward and back in the armory, shadow-fencing, as it were.
"If this prison is a dark mirror of your own home, Stepan-- do you have a copy of the floorplan of the manor? It might be of use. As for our scholars," he looks towards the others, "they might wish to look in the books. I'm not much of one for reading, myself."
Milo sheathes the rapier again, and rubs at his jaw. "They say there are spells to let a man see in darkness," he says wistfully. "I don't imagine you also conveniently have those lying around, though."
Milo looks wordlessly at Anya disappearing across the hall. He wants to... say something, anything-- I'm risking myself for you, Anya, does that matter? but the door shuts, and he's left with Anya's husband instead-- not at all what he wants.
"Smart." Xander said approvingly to Milo. "A tour of the building before we leave is a good idea too. That way we'll at least have an idea of what we're headed into."
"I have my Wayfinder. I haven't seen a darkness yet that was strong enough to snuff it out. I paid good money for the spell."
"I want to treat some weapons with Ghost Salt. If we run into more Shadows, we need to be better prepared."
Let me see if I can find the plans for the manor; it's unlikely, though, as the house is quite old. And with the mutability of the Shadow Realm, it's quite possible that the prison resembles my home more in manner than in precise architectural detail. Or that it changes completely depending on the viewer - who's to say? But as the manor is the best guess we have to go on, if I can't find a map, I'm certainly glad to take you through. Though if you came through the front doors it's likely you've seen much of it already.
As for vision issues, here, take these. He digs into a small oak box built into one of the shelves and withdraws what looks to be several small tongues of flame that burn harmlessly in his hand. Burnt out remnants of ioun stones - they've lost whatever protective magics they once held, but they still float when set into orbit, so I had my aunt Evgenia conjure flames around them. It's at least a little more certain than the fire of a torch or candle, and frees the hands as well. I keep them for my servants, if they need to work at night.
If you'd rather prepare for working through lightlessness, Nadia may be able to help. An herbalist who lives outside town - a strange one, to be sure, but half the town goes to her for love potions and harrowings, even as they name her Witch-Blood to the other gossips. She may have something that would help with seeing in darkness, and I'm sure she'd carry ghost salts as well.
Xander took an Ioun Torch. he didn't expect to need it, but he liked contingencies.
The rest of the evening is a flurry of activity. Some practice sparring with new weapons; others spend time in the well-stocked Boroi library. A certain amount of dread looms over all, however - what surprises will the mirror's prison hold?
Research in the library confirms much of Stepan's report. Being a part of the Shadow Plane, the prison shares many traits of that realm. Light sources, though not extinguished completely, have trouble penetrating as far through the inky darkness. Magics that shape shadows are especially effective on the plane, while magics that bring light require extra effort of will to call into being. With the damage to the mirror in ages past, the only means of entry is a command to the mirror, and the only means of exit the prison's end.
The mirror can only be destroyed by itself - the manifestation of its consciousness on the Shadow Plane must be destroyed with a piece of the mirror from the Material Plane. Guard this well, Stepan warns as he hands over a long shard of glass wrapped in a piece of thick crimson fabric. It'll do you little good against anything else, but it's your only chance at truly destroying the prison's Heart.
The next morning, final supplies are procured. Nadia carries a wide variety of alchemical concoctions and magical elixirs crammed into her tiny cottage on the edge of town; when Milo shows the Boroi crest on his new rapier, she even brings forth two vials of holy water. It's yours if you like, but I'm no preacher just giving it away. It'll cost you - and good luck finding more.
Finally, with all preparations made, Stepan takes you below the manor into a dark, chill basement. As you enter, you are greeted by a steel altar in the middle of a low-ceilinged nave, surrounded by hooks, knives, and other instruments of pain adorning the walls. Behind the altar sits an iron maiden. Its face is etched with an enameled illustration of a young, fresh-faced woman in a bridal veil and ornate gown. As you pass, you swear the iron maiden turns, and you get a quiet sense of unease, as if you're being watched.
Opposite the altar, you can see a few barred cells. A guard sits at the hall's entrance, polishing the head of his spear idly and looking ready to be somewhere else. A couple of jeers and hisses accompany your footfalls; it seems one of the cells is occupied, and its occupant doesn't think much of anyone who could be coming through the basement. It weren't nothin' but a few baubles - old lady Kalashov wouldn't miss 'em none!
You turn away from the altar and the cells toward three doors facing each other at the end of a short hallway. The doorways are thick, and the locks on their faces intricately designed. You can tell at a glance that these are doors designed to be difficult to access by those not meant to access them. Stepan reaches for a key ring at his waist and pulls out an ornate steel key, turning it in the lock of the door straight ahead.
The thick door opens up to reveal the source of everyone's dread - the midnight mirror. The elaborately framed looking glass, a shard along its top missing, sits at the center of a ritual circle of runes inlaid into the stones of the vault in silver. An everburning torch sits at each point of the circle, throwing the relief of the mirror's frame into strange, flickering contrast. From the layer of dust over every stone of the walls and floor, it's evident that no one has disturbed this room in years.
Well, here it is, mutters Stepan, eyeing the mirror nervously. Once I give the command, you'll enter. The only way to leave will be to succeed in destroying the prison - or to die, and I pray to our Lord that will not be the outcome. I thank you for this - for Anya's sake, and Karpad's, and my son's. I'll await your return. He gives a grateful nod and motions for you to stand in the ritual circle, screwing himself up to utter the fateful words.
Suddenly, you hear soft footsteps behind, and Anya's clear voice rings in the chamber. I'll see you off as well; I couldn't let you do this without saying goodbye. She gives each a curtsy in thanks; as she rises in front of Milo, her eyes dart back and forth, and suddenly she ducks in and kisses him on each cheek. Thank you, for being willing to come for my sake, and to do this. Her eyes flick downward, and she rejoins her husband outside the ritual circle, watching.
Milovic frowns, but takes the dagger, keeping it well-wrapped...
The next morning, he peruses the supplies with interest. He weighs his coin pouch as he studies the holy water vials, then decides he might as well-- if he doesn't come back from this one, after all, then his money won't matter.
Milo swallows as they pass before the iron maiden. Half the darker dreams of his childhood featured cellars like this, or at least, what a boyish imagination could conjure. Places of torment, sacred to Zon-Kuthon... places one could never leave.
He takes a deep breath as they see the midnight mirror itself. So very cheerful. The wrought-iron around its edges looks like chains, like the barbed chains said to be constantly pulling and paining the Midnight Lord's flesh. He fights down queasiness, and, try as he might, he can think of no snappy retort to Stepan's thanks.
When Anya comes in-- Milo's eyes widen, and he holds very still for the two kisses, left-than-right. If only life had been different, if only he'd actually been his father's heir--
No, that path lies madness. Perhaps, if that had been his course in life, he might even now, like Anya, be short a few fingers, devoutly making offerings of pain... no thank you. Better to live life alone.
Milo bows to Anya, one hand over his heart. He supposes there's something wonderfully stupidly noble about it... go throw yourself into another plane of existence for the sake of a woman who's chosen a different man to love... but, well. All lovers are fools, aren't they.
"Daring of you, Anya-- Stepan, if you want to collect a mark of honor against me for that, you'll have to wait 'til my return. And I will return," he says... with more bravado than he really feels.
Xander performed a short prayer for the three of them while the others spoke and said goodbye.
"Send us in."
And our thoughts go with you as well. As Anya stands behind her husband, one hand at the small of his back, Stepan squares himself up and utters a sentence in a booming voice that echoes around the small chamber with a ring of finality.
Suddenly, it feels as if the stone floor underfoot slides away. The flickering light of the torches surrounding the ritual circle begins to fade; the warmth of their flames suddenly disappears from around you. The image of Stepan with hands raised, Anya mute with fear, the stone walls of the vault - all suddenly goes dark. Blood begins to freeze, thoughts grow sluggish, and for a moment it feels as if you're flying apart, fragments of soul and mind and body flung across a vast nothingness.
And then, after an instant that seems to last an age, you again feel a solid surface beneath your feet, and lungs involuntarily open to draw in the air. You find yourselves in a small chamber, empty save for yourselves and the chain-bound echo of the midnight mirror in the room's center. The air is cold and sharp, only a few degrees above freezing, and thick with a near-impenetrable darkness.
The only light in the room comes from the mirror itself - looking into the glass, you see not your reflection, but the vault you just left, Stepan, Anya, torches, circle, and all in muted outlines of grey. Even the torchlight is a pale silver, as if the illumination had to sacrifice its color to make it through the mirror's resistance.
The walls of the chamber are composed of a strange black substance; beneath your fingers, you can discern a vague grain, as if of planks of a strange shadowy wood. As you watch, their edges seem to undulate subtly. A closed door sits opposite the mirror, your only visible path to what lies beyond.
"Alright. We are in the manor dungeons. We have no real way of knowing where the Heart is, so we'll have to take some guesses and explore." Xander whispered as he looked over his surroundings. "Thoughts?"
As he spoke he moved carefully forward, scanning the floor and the door for nasty surprises.
"Well that's cheery," Milo mutters darkly to the Shadowtongue words that send them off, across the gulf between planes. And then they go-- windmilling through the void, long enough he fears he'll never come out of it...
Milo gasps for air when he can breathe again and when the cold ebbs slightly. Oh yes, this is bringing back lots of childhood nightmares. He takes a moment to wipe his brow of clammy sweat, and adjust his grip on his new rapier. His gaze flicks towards the little stone that orbits his head, judging how badly powerless it is against the encroaching dark.
"This is what I was afraid of," the Nidalese mutters unhappily. He draws his just-acquired potion of darkvision, but does not drink it yet-- keeping it in his free hand, ready to be drunk at the first sign of trouble.
"Let's just open doors and go where it gets blackest, I suppose."
The group converges on the single door, floating torchlights straining against the blackness. Xander hears nothing beyond the door, and the knob turns beneath his hand. It seems as if the magic stopping passage through the mirror makes a lock on the door concealing it unnecessary.
The door opens to reveal a room that feels strangely familiar - in fact, as lights make their dogged way to the walls, it becomes evident that this room is in fact strangely reminiscent of the basement in the Boroi manor. An iron maiden stands along the eastern wall, though here it stands watch over a crumbling shelf rather than an altar, and a closed door stands along the western wall. The rest of the walls are lined with more shelves, crowded with empty bottles, bones, and grisly instruments of torture, and next to the door leading back to the mirror, a set of stairs leads upward.
"This place is even less pleasant than the other one." Xander muttered. "Here I thought a torture chamber in a place dedicated to the Midnight Lord was just about the worst a place could get.
Milo murmurs, "Do we not at least wish to see what's behind this other door? If it leads to cells... maybe there's things we could persuade to ally with us."
Still, he defers to Xander as the one who knows, as Milo would put it, 'damnable magic things.' If the others don't wish to take the time, Milo sticks close, throwing nervous glances over his shoulder ever so often.
Continuing up the stairs, you soon arrive in a hallway that splits to left and right. Through the inky gloom, Kinvara sees a door to the right of the right fork and an inky black ichor dripping slowly from the wall opposite the door. She also sees two doors to the left, one on each side of the hall.
Xander nodded. "Good idea."
Turning back down the stairs, the explorers approach the door on the far west wall of the basement. Xander briefly tests the door and finds that, though shut and very solidly built, the door is not locked. He finds no sign of any surprises built or added into the door itself, and hears nothing unusual from behind it. There is a macabre sight on the floor in front of the door, though - a couple of small bones, possibly kicked out inattentively by the last person to exit the door.
Xander eyed the bones and the door, gave the others a short count and then pulled it open as quietly as he could.
As Xander edges the door open, a low hissing emerges from the room. None may enter without payment... Finally the door opens completely, and torchlight struggles in, landing on two figures. The guardians appear to be long, snakelike creatures of bone, topped by humanoid skulls with long, shadowy fangs and bound together by ligaments of corporeal shadow. As many as two dozen more toe and finger bones litter the ground surrounding them.
The area around the creatures seem not to contain prison cells, as in the Boroi manor, but small alcoves in which human-size sarcophagi stand, composed of the same shadowy stuff as the rest of the walls.