Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (GypsyRose & TheBlackRider)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Gypsy on 23-03-2013, 17:07:09</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (GypsyRose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>23-03-2013, 17:07:09</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/StamfordHouse_zps91d80250.jpg)</div>Stamford House stood for many years just outside the small hamlet of Idlethorp, home to a minor but distinguished branch of the Godefroy family.&nbsp; The family made their wealth in trade and investments, but preferred to remain away from the temptations and dangers of the larger cities.&nbsp; The local Godefroys became known for their hospitality and lavish parties, attracting gentry from the surrounding areas.&nbsp; The last Godefroy to live in the house was Albert Godefroy, a widower with two beautiful twin daughters, Lene and Alys. <div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/DarknessampLight_zps360b7232.jpg)</div> The two girls were inseparable, and as like in some things as two peas in a pod even though as they grew, their ordinary brown locks of both girls gradually changed in color until one was as dark as night, while the other's was light as the dawn.&nbsp; Lene, the dark-haired child, was said to be smarter and more impetuous and temperamental than her sister.&nbsp; Alys was slower of wit but possessed of a more gentle and generous nature.&nbsp; Both were well liked in the community.&nbsp; It was agreed that both girls were likely to make a fine match, and perhaps return this branch of the Godefroy family to a more prominent position.<br><br>The stories aren't quite clear on exactly what or who came between the two girls - a silly disagreement blown out of proportion or possibly jealousies over a man.&nbsp; Shortly before the Tragedy, something had caused a rivalry between the two to form.&nbsp; &nbsp;The discord between them quickly escalated, much to the dismay of their father. He determined that the best course of action might be to separate the two as quickly as possible until time and wisdom had cooled their tempers.&nbsp; The girls were, after all, somewhat past the age most girls of their station married, and many advised against indulging them for too long.&nbsp; To that end, he organized a house party.&nbsp; The guests included a few ladies of respected families and eligible gentlemen who he thought would make suitable matches.&nbsp; Unfortunately, he was called away to the city on urgent business, and left his daughters to entertain the guests with his trusted butler and housemaid acting as chaperons.<br><br><div align="center">*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-</div><br><br>When Albert Godefroy returned, he found a horrifying sight.&nbsp; His daughters and guests were seated at the dining room table in the great hall, still dressed in their finery and all quite dead.&nbsp; Of the servants, there was no sign at all ... and no explanation for what had happened, though some who had assisted in funeral preparations whispered 'poison' because of the twisted expressions of agony upon the poor unfortunates' faces.<br><br>He buried his daughters in the family crypt,&nbsp; and made arrangements to transport the bodies of the dead back to their families,&nbsp; save for the body of one lone gentleman whose origins remained a mystery.&nbsp; Albert assumed that this man, as he was dressed in noble clothes and appeared in all respects a gentleman, was a friend of one of the other guests.&nbsp; His body was interred in the family crypt, in the spot nearest the door so that once identified his body could be reclaimed by his family once he was identified.<br><br>Albert then locked up the house with all its contents and departed.&nbsp; For a while, he hired locals to keep up the place, but eventually the funds stopped coming, and Stamford House was deserted.&nbsp; The mysterious man remained (or so it was supposed) in the Godefroy family crypt.&nbsp; The locals gave it a wide berth, and legends and stories about ghosts and demons kept all but the most curious at arms length.&nbsp; <br><br><div align="center">*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-</div><br><div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div>And so it stood, until a suited, official little barrister appeared at the home of Hilda Godefroy, a foundling whose surname was merely a courtesy given because of the locket she had been wearing when she was found upon the doorstep of Heinrich and Freda Darling.&nbsp; The childless couple, who were fervent practitioners of spiritualism, took her in despite the odd circumstances, convinced that the spirits had sent her to them for a reason.<br><br>Her foster parents had planned to make the journey with her, along with one or two of the most active members of their spiritualist friends, but ill health of her foster father and a small bit of difficulty resulting from a recent miscalculation during a seance interfered.&nbsp; Therefore, Hilda was determined to be strong enough to make the journey on her own, so long as she engaged someone to see to her physical protection while she helped any restless spirits cross over to their next life.<br><br>Hilda Godefroy has recently come to the village of Idlethorpe to claim her inheritance, Stamford House, a small estate not far from the village that has been left abandoned for more than a generation.&nbsp; The villagers believe the house to be haunted, but Hilda is not deterred.&nbsp; She claims to be a medium, and has impressed some of the locals with her talents.&nbsp; She has implored the mayor of the village, who claims some influence in the surrounding lands, to spread word amongst his contacts for a suitable adventurer to accompany her to Stamford House so that she may attempt to rid the house of disturbing spirits.&nbsp; Unfortunately, the response has not been as positive as she had hoped, even with the monies advanced by the barrister to offer as incentives.<br><br>--------------------------<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><span style="font-family: comic sans MS;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size">To the Honorable Mayor R. Steuben:<br><br>I offer my most fervent wishes that this day finds you well, and again thank you for your courtesy and hospitality to a stranger who hopes to make Idlethorpe her new home.<br><br>To that end, though I would not wish to seem impatient or unmindful of the assistance you have already given, I must ask if there is no suitable candidate to act as escort and chaperone while I make the necessary arrangements to open Stanford House once more?&nbsp; I realize that the legends that have arisen during the house's closed periods are only natural,&nbsp; but wish to remind you that I have earned my reputation as a successful medium by cleansing more than one locale of troubled spirits who merely need gentle guidance to move on to that peace which awaits them beyond the mortal coil.<br><br>I realize that you believe me too young to have sufficient experience to judge this task, but at the risk of appearing prideful, let me assure you that the Darlings have been engaged in grooming me for this task for a number of years, and the burdens of spiritual contact with the deceased have fallen increasingly upon my shoulders during the last few years.<br><br>Please, if you know of any suitable candidates, appeal to them to see me at once.&nbsp; &nbsp; I would not wish to embarrass the Darlings by looking to one whose reputation is unknown to accompany me, but it is a matter of urgency that I reach Stamford House without further delay.<br><br>Yours respectfully,<br><br>Hilda Godefroy</span></span></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>--------------------------<br><br>Hilda read over the note that she'd just finished writing, her lips pursed in a moue of dissatisfaction.&nbsp; She sounded so terribly fussy, but the mayor was so very old-fashioned and hidebound in his ways that she feared any less formality would simply plant his feet more firmly in the mud.&nbsp; It was somewhat disappointing to know that the able-bodied men of the village of sufficient upbringing to allay the concerns of the Darlings were possessed of so little courage and spirit of adventure.&nbsp; &nbsp;If left to her own devices, she would have been pleased enough with any hale enough to protect her from physical dangers and possessing enough wit to converse with her on both the spiritual and mundane, but she owed the Darlings her most sincere effort.<br><br>If only they would hurry.&nbsp; The barrister had said that she must take residence at Stamford house before the Equinox in order to fulfill the terms of her inheritance, and that left little time for such dilly-dallying.&nbsp; If the Mayor did not find someone suitable soon, she would simply have to engage someone of less breeding but more bravery.<br><br>The note would have to do.&nbsp; She folded it neatly, and sealed it with a bit of wax, pressing into it the Godefroy signet, feeling that same bit of thrill that she'd had with each opportunity to use it.&nbsp; Once it had properly set, she took the note down to the innkeeper, and slipped a couple of small coins into his hand to see that it was delivered to the fuss-budget mayor ... and to make certain his lad knew not to return without an answer.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>24-03-2013, 17:26:08</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/ruyNaE7.png)</div>Kovac Gabrosza rode into the village of Idlethorpe on a fine new courser, a pack full of jewels from his latest venture in Valachan, and the nagging suspicion that he was on a fool’s errand. He wore fine clothes, though in truth they had been finer before his latest excursion. His crisp white shirt bore a jagged rent across the chest that had been clumsily stitched together.&nbsp; At least he’d managed to wash out the crimson stains. <br><br>Such were the risks a man took in Valachan. But here in Mordent he didn’t even bother to wear his armor. Indeed, the locals would have likely viewed it as an affectation. But he was no fool, and even in these relatively peaceful lands he kept his weapons close at hand. The talwar hanging from his saddle was set with jewels, and the scabbard was engraved with a language he had not yet deciphered.&nbsp; There was nothing so ornate about the flintlock horse pistol that hung from the saddle’s opposite side. But his overall appearance marked him as a gentleman, or at least a man rich enough that it made no matter. <br><br>He saw the sign for the inn, and knew where some of that wealth would soon be going. A good meal, a stiff drink, and a soft bed before he continued on to Mordentshire, before he delved into that town’s libraries for a solution to the problem that had been trailing him for the better part of a month. But that was a problem for another day. For now, the traveler had no greater ambitions than to warm his bones, and learn more about the realm from the villagers. <br><br>Once at the inn, he dismounted with the grace of one long accustomed to life in the saddle. He noticed the stable boy staring at Kavoc as he buckled on the blade and the gun. <br><br>“Cor, that’s a wicked curved sword! Where’d you pick that up, m’lord?” <br><br>“Sri Raji,” Kovac told him with a grin. He couldn’t blame the boy for his curiosity. Kovac himself had <br>felt the same way when he’d found the blade in the tomb of a <em>Brahmaparus</em>. <br><br>“What were you doing all the way out there?” <br><br>Kovac shrugged. “Business. Mostly merchant work.&nbsp; I won’t bore you with the details.” <br><br>The stable boy, for all his apparent backwater upbringing, narrowed his eyes at that. He pointed at Kovac’s pistol. “What kind of business you need that for, m’lord?”<br><br>Something changed in Kovac’s grin. Maybe it was suspicion. Maybe it was respect for a keen mind. “The profitable kind. Now,” he said, gesturing at his horse. “Take Duke Gundar here and give him a good stall. Plenty of hay. Oats too, if you have them.”&nbsp; With a deft movement, he produced a silver coin, then flipped it to the boy. “One now, one on the morrow.” The glint of silver seemed alleviate any of the boy’s suspicions, as it had so often done before. <br><br>His horse secured, Kovac wasted no time making his way to the inn.&nbsp; He saw another boy dashing out of the inn, carrying some letter with an official-looking seal on it.&nbsp; Inside, the inn seemed cozy enough. His gaze drifted among the few patrons, until they fell onto a blonde woman speaking to the innkeeper. Sensing an opportunity, he walked to the pair. <br><br>“Greetings, my good man,” he told the innkeeper. “I’ve been on the road many a day, and this place is a welcome sight.&nbsp; He took a coin and pressed it into the man’s hand. “Wine if you have it. If not, ale’s just as good.” He turned then, to the woman, and gave a slight bow.&nbsp; <br><br>“My lady,” he said, his voice tinged with an accent from somewhere deeper in the Core’s interior. He bowed, a short and rather informal gesture. “Forgive me for being so forward, but are you a traveler on this road as well?” There was something about her that seemed out of place in this sleepy hamlet, though he could not quite say what. Of course, many in the inn could have said the same for Kovac himself. <br><br><br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>25-03-2013, 05:05:51</strong>
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				The innkeeper's professional calming tones met Hilda's frustrated complaints as implacably as the rocks bear the lashing of the sea, commiserating with her frustration and yet able to offer no sensible alternative other than his simple faith that what would be, would be ... and would she like a nice cup of tea flavored with mint and honey to soothe her?<br><br><em>"Oh, very well, an excellent cup of tea seems to be all I will get.&nbsp; &nbsp;I find it incredible that there is no man of sufficient courage to brave an encounter with a few restless spirits.&nbsp; They are not beasts, not monsters, but rather the sad remnants of lives ended in disappointment - and I have guided more than one to its final rest."</em><br><br>She broke off her low-modulated, yet indignant speech as the front door opened and a man she had not yet seen in Idlethorpe entered and looked around.&nbsp; Hilda noted that his clothes were expensively cut and well made, and that the unusual blade at his waist looked both natural and graceful in its accustomed place rather than a decoration.<br><br>Hilda stepped back, allowing the innkeeper a moment of courtesy to greet his customer, though she did not modestly cast down her eyes or seek some innocuous object to study but rather studied him curiously and with the awakening of something akin to hope.&nbsp; Could it be that the mayor's summonses had at last borne fruit not withered on the vine?<br><br>"We have wine, Sir.&nbsp; I will have it brought out right away, if you care to sit."<br><br>The innkeeper took the coin, bowing slightly, and took the opportunity to escape Hilda's frustrated complaints with aplomb as soon as the new arrival sought her attention.<br><br><em>"You are not forward at all, Sir, and I welcome boldness from a good heart.&nbsp; &nbsp; I have recently come to Idlethorpe, and hope to make it my home.&nbsp; As the innkeeper did not see fit to introduce us in his hurry to escape the roughness of my impatient tongue ... I am Hilda Godefroy."</em><br><br>She hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward with her hand outstretched.&nbsp; <em>"If you would care to join me at one of the tables, I would be pleased to have company over tea."</em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>26-03-2013, 01:35:02</strong>
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				“Wonderful,” he told the innkeeper, then clapped the man on the shoulder, a rough, friendly gesture standing at odds with his noble bearing and obvious wealth.&nbsp; “Make it red.” <br><br>He turned back to the woman before him, and gave her a smile that showed white teeth set against his tanned features. At the announcement of her name, Kovac put one hand to his chest, and made a deep bow, more formal than the one he’d given a moment ago. He took her hand, and raising it to his lips, gave the hand a brief, courtly kiss. His lips were soft, and his breath warm.&nbsp; “A pleasure, Hilda. I am Kovac Gabrosza, from Teufeldorf. But seeing you here, my lady, I’m suddenly glad to be abroad.”&nbsp; <br><br>At twenty and nine, he was old enough to admit certain things about himself, certain foibles that youth ignored. A weakness for the fairer sex was certainly among Kovac’s. “I must admit my travels have taken me to many parts of The Core and beyond, yet this is my first time in Mordent.” In a wilder land like Falkovnia, he’d hesitate to tell a stranger that he was a stranger himself to this land. But he saw little harm here. “I’m pleased to have the company; I’ll certainly join you.” <br><br>As he spoke, he caught an image at the corner of his eye.&nbsp; A face he’d seen many times in the past month, though never quite as vividly as now. A woman of perhaps forty. Hair a deep chestnut, shot through with ivory and grey. Hazel eyes that bored through like a pike. Pallid flesh, even at cheeks that were surely once rosy. A sardonic, cruel smile on pallid lips. And a single neat red hole in the center of her forehead.&nbsp; <br><br>He blinked, and the dead woman was gone. Kovac had no idea who the woman was, or what forces had spelled her doom. Yet for an entire moon, he’d seen her, turning up at the oddest moments and disappearing just as quickly. Sometimes in a crowd, sometimes all alone. Sometimes just before he fell asleep.&nbsp; And now that he was in Mordent, a realm rumored to be plagued with spectres, he knew that he was close to some kind of revelation, whether he liked it or not. <br><br>He snapped himself out of those grim thoughts as best he could, and flashed Hilda a wolfish grin that belied his burgeoning unease. “Now, my lady, I am curious—what brings you here?”<br><br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>26-03-2013, 21:17:32</strong>
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				<em>"The pleasure is mine ... Kovac." </em> There was a slight hesitation before she used his given name.&nbsp; The Darlings would not have approved, and nor would the Mayor, but Hilde's readings and contacts with those who had gone far beyond the localized conventions of society had led her to believe it was wrong to insist that travelers adopt local conventions and manners at the expense of their own.&nbsp; She curtsied in the manner of one who had been taught the gesture but perhaps had not had much occasion to put it to practical use.&nbsp; <em>"I'm afraid you have the advantage of me - I have never been outside Mordent ... save for perhaps in my dreams."</em>&nbsp; &nbsp;She reclaimed her hand, and did her best not to act silly or flustered like so many girls did when an attractive man kissed their hand and paid them a compliment.&nbsp; The last thing she could afford to do was to confirm the unwarranted and unfair suspicions of the skeptics who judged her because of her gifts.<br><br>She had been about to lead the way to the corner table that had become her favorite during her stay in Idlethorpe - it caught the warmth of the afternoon sun and sitting there with her books or journal would have been pleasant were it not for her ever-increasing awareness of the passage of time - when she saw his gaze fix on something behind her and to the side.&nbsp; It was just a momentary tic, and quickly dismissed, and Hilda did not think anything of it, despite the slight breeze of cool air as the front door opened to admit another guest.<br><em><br>"Family business ... a piece of property in the vicinity has come into my hands and there are things I must see to.&nbsp; I had hoped to hire a suitable escort and staff to accompany me so that I might get the house set to rights, but I have encountered only one polite excuse after another as to why it cannot be done." </em>&nbsp; Hilda was not unaware of the dangers of admitting her good fortune to a complete stranger, but had the Darlings not taught her to trust her instincts?&nbsp; Those instincts suggested that perhaps this stranger had not crossed her path by accident, and she stood to lose much by being as overcautious and fearful as the locals.<br><br>She spoke as she led the way to her table, and again hesitated for just a moment before seating herself with just the hint of a guilty expression.&nbsp; <em>"And you, Sir?&nbsp; Do you have business in Idlethorpe?"</em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>27-03-2013, 20:30:39</strong>
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				Kovac gave the briefest hint of a grin when Hilda hesitated before using his given name.&nbsp; In the short time he’d traveled in Mordent, he’d noticed a certain disparity between the friendliness of the working class and the cold politeness of the more well-bred or educated folk.&nbsp; In his homeland, things had been much the same, once.&nbsp; But decades of conquest and oppression had turned the peasantry as stony silent as the burgomasters. And so he found this woman’s friendliness refreshing, even if it was filtered through a sieve of cultural expectations.<br><br>“Never been outside of Mordent? Ah, but there is so much to see! I am a nomad at heart, I think. I have a mine near Krezk. Recently, it has been quite profitable, giving me the opportunity to venture to distant lands.&nbsp; And yet for all I’ve seen, sometimes I still long for the streets of Teufeldorf. Such are the binds of homeland, no?”&nbsp; <br><br>When Hilda explained her reasons for being in Idlethorpe, something in Kovac’s expression changed. Something in his eyes bespoke of ambitions beyond those of a courtly but rough-hewn gentlemen. Until then, Kovac had been content merely to flirt with the young woman. She had seemed a pleasant distraction from his time on the road.&nbsp; But now, there was more than a pretty maid’s favor up for grabs.&nbsp; Kovac was a creature finely attuned to opportunity, and he sensed one here.<br><br>As they sat, the innkeeper arrived with a glass of deep red wine, and Kovac took it appreciatively. He took a long, slow sip as he considered his response.&nbsp; He put the glass down then leaned forward in his chair, eyes glinting with fascination.&nbsp; “None of these good men will help you?&nbsp; A strange thing indeed.&nbsp; But perhaps I have arrived in Idlethorpe at a fortunate time.&nbsp; I am merely passing through, you see. My final destination is Mordentshire.&nbsp; I’ve heard it is a pleasant little city, but I am on no schedule. If you are looking for an escort, perhaps my services are available.”<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>28-03-2013, 19:54:56</strong>
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				<em>"Fortune has been kind to you, then.&nbsp; &nbsp; That is marvelous - one hears so many sad stories in these poor, troubled times.&nbsp; I would like to travel someday - my guardians are scholars, of a sort, and I have read as much of their books and letters as I might, but that is no true substitute for seeing and experiencing new things firsthand.&nbsp; Don't you agree?&nbsp; I do miss the sounds of the sea, though. " </em> Hilda enjoyed chatting most of the time, and she had had few opportunities to do so in the company of handsome men without the presence of one or more chaperons hovering somewhere discreetly in the background.&nbsp; Despite her worries about the passing of time, she found that she rather enjoyed the attention.<br><br>The innkeeper served wine to Korvac and his wife soon followed with the teapot.&nbsp; She poured herself a cup and added honey and milk to the strong brew liberally. and listened demurely as he responded just as she had hoped.&nbsp; &nbsp;How foolish she had been to doubt the guidance she had received from the spirits!&nbsp; Still, she did not wish to appear overeager. <em> "No.&nbsp; None of the locals wish to set foot upon the property."&nbsp; </em>She raised her voice just slightly, her eyes turning frosty.&nbsp; <em>"They believe Stamford House haunted, and would rather let a fine establishment wither or burn to the ground rather than attempting to rectify the situation."</em><br><br>She took a sip of the hot tea, and added more honey and a daub more milk to cool it further before lifting the cup to her lips to take a delicate swallow.&nbsp; <em>"Truly?&nbsp; This is a fortunate meeting, then.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Perhaps I should clarify that it is not just an escort I require, but rather someone to assist me in the cleansing of the house.&nbsp; If there are spirits trapped within due to some long-ago tragedy, and I must admit that I believe this to be the case, I intend to help them ... pass on .... to leave their physical and emotional pain behind as they enter the next plane.&nbsp; Such an undertaking is not without its dangers, and I require someone to protect me ... physically.&nbsp; I am a medium, you see ... I have some experience in these matters, but when I use my talents I am quite vulnerable to physical harm."<br></em><br>Hilda spoke of spirits fervently, with the eyes of a true believer.&nbsp; Ghosts did not frighten her, but fascinated her instead, and her passion had developed over a number of years as a defense mechanism to cope with skeptics and the faint of heart alike.&nbsp; When talking of this passion, she became animated, her eyes alight, and her fingers on the cup clenching it with an intensity that had not been obvious in her dealings with the innkeeper or her more reserved manner with a stranger.<br><br><em>"The barrister has set aside funds for the hiring of an escort, as well as for laborers.&nbsp; I have found some willing to undertake the cleaning and repairs, but not until I have spent a number of days and nights there to demonstrate that it is safe.&nbsp; Yet both the Mayor's efforts and my own have not been successful in securing a dependable and reputable bladesman." </em> She hesitated a moment, and then named a sum that was a tad more than reasonable, if not extravagant.&nbsp; <br><br><em>"The time I have to claim my inheritance is not unlimited.&nbsp; I fear that if I do not find someone soon, I will be forced to go alone ... and I have made promises to my guardians that I would not.&nbsp; I would be most pleased if you would consider taking on the challenge, if you can indeed spare the time."</em><br><br>She thought, perhaps, to attempt to flirt and appeal to his masculinity - but she had little experience in that regard, and expected that she would only make a mess of it were she to try.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>30-03-2013, 23:38:22</strong>
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				"Fortune has indeed smiled on me," he replied with a wry expression. "So I enjoy it before she turns away. You're very right--knowledge is a fine thing. But it cannot stand in the place of what you sense yourself." And it was no lie. After all, had that not been his entire reason for coming to this spirit-choked land?&nbsp; <br><br>“So you grew up closer to the Sea of Sorrows, then?” He quirked an eyebrow when he saw her add more milk and honey to the tea, but to his credit he refrained from comment. Yet he wondered why she’d prefer tea when there was perfectly good wine laying about. Perhaps it was as in Paridon, where the ladies were expected to refrain from drink in public for the sake of appearance.&nbsp; Or perhaps, he thought, most people aren’t given to quaffing wine in broad daylight. At least not here. Ah, but such were the risks one took abroad. <br><br>He was enjoying himself; it had been some time sinced he’d been graced with the presence of civilized company. But when she spoke of spirits, something inside him tensed. Over the years, Kovac had learned to pay attention to his instincts. Now, his instincts were telling him to beware. But Kovac was also adept at ignoring those instincts when it suited him.&nbsp; And it suited him well enough now.”<br><br>“Haunted, eh?&nbsp; I bet there are some here who would dismiss that as base superstition.” Another sip. “But there are things out there in the world that some folk will never comprehend. They want the world to be simple. They want it to make sense. And perhaps it does, but not in any way that would make sense to them. So mayhaps those folks know what they’re talking about when they say the house is haunted. And if so, I can be of assistance.” <br><br>“I have seen many things in my journey.” His voice dropped then, pitched so that only Hilda could hear what followed. “I’ve seen drowned men try to claw their way up the railings of a riverboat in Souragne. Seen ghuls rise from the sands in Sri Raji.” At that, he touches the talwar at his side. “In Valachan, I fought strange beasts, undead panthers, who kept a heard of zombies like men keep cattle. I am no stranger to the undead. And as terrifying as they may be, I’ve yet to run into a thing that can’t be put down with good steel, sharp silver, cold iron, or a little…’luck,’ let’s call it.”<br><br>Yet another sip. And now the glint in his eyes had more to it than just the beautiful woman who sat before him—although that had not dispersed either. “So tell me, Hilda, how do you plan to cleanse this house—and what do you need to be physically protected from? Either way, I think I may be just the bladesman you seek.”&nbsp; <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>01-04-2013, 23:04:39</strong>
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				Hilda nodded and smiled eagerly, happy to have at last encountered someone in Idlethorpe who agreed with her rather than looking as if they wished to pat her on the head or swat her in the behind and send her on her way. <em> "You have a fine way of looking at things, Korvac.&nbsp; If you are willing, I think I would be delighted to have you accompany me to Stamford House, particularly in light of your experiences upon your travels.&nbsp; It is refreshing to meet a man with steel supporting his back rather than willow sapling ... and luck, of course."</em><br><br>The more she said his name, the easier it felt upon her lips and the less she worried about a silly thing like familiarity.&nbsp; He was, she thought, a gentleman equal to any the Mayor could have procured or who had found their way to the Darling's Spiritualist and Sensitives Society.<br><br><em>"Yes, I did grow up nearer the sea."</em>&nbsp; Hilda hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should risk spoiling the chance of convincing him to take on the task of traveling with her to Stamford House.&nbsp; But, she thought, it was the right thing to do, and he did not seem to be so prim and proper that he would hold the strange circumstances of her birth against her.&nbsp; <em>"But I'm afraid where I was born is something of a mystery.&nbsp; The Darlings found me when I was but a small child, lying upon their back porch and quite alone.&nbsp; Around my neck was this locket, with only the name 'Godefroy' engraved upon it."</em><br><br>Hilda brought out the locket to display.&nbsp; It was, by all appearances, finely crafted of gold.&nbsp; The locket's center held a twisted loop design, with both twists of the loop set with two small jewels in a marquis cut - one a diamond and the other a ruby.&nbsp; When she turned it, the engraving of which she had spoken was visible, but the chain was too short to examine in detail.<br><br><em>"The Darlings took me in and made enquiries, but nothing came of it for many years.&nbsp; When my guardians learned that I had talents in the realm of the spiritual, they were delighted and did all that they could to provide me with knowledge and experience to put them to use.&nbsp; I hope you don't think me bragging to admit that our seances have drawn many distinguished visitors, even as far away as Tepest and Darkon.&nbsp; Oh, not only because of me, certainly, but to speak with others who share the same interests and beliefs that spirits are to be respected, but not feared out of hand."</em><br><br>Hilda shook herself slightly, as if realizing that she was getting off topic.&nbsp; <em>"Shortly before I was to leave childhood behind, officially, of course, a barrister representing the Godefroy estate contacted the Darlings, stating that the necklace I wore entitled me to an inheritance."<br></em><br>Hilda did not venture any information regarding her parents, for that was still a subject that she did not wish to speak or even think on too closely.<br><br><em>"I'm afraid that I cannot say how, exactly, the house will need to be cleansed.&nbsp; I will have to determine what it is we face.&nbsp; Likely, 'twill be a combination of reason and understanding, prayer, and perhaps more arcane remedy, but I cannot rule out the need for steel, either ordinary or made to act in concert with the spirit realm.&nbsp; It all depends, you see, on why the spirits linger.&nbsp; Sometimes all they wish is for the hidden story of their life to be revealed."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>03-04-2013, 05:38:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Ha, it’s a fine way of looking at things so long as it keeps me afloat. It’s proved seaworthy thus far.” His gentleman act was paying off.&nbsp; And thank the dawn for it. It seemed that the people of Mordent were even more conscious of social class than he’d been led to believe. Kovac wondered if Hilda risked something just by speaking to an unmarried man in public. Perhaps there would be talk, but if she were a stranger her as well there’d likely be nothing preventing the locals from gossiping anyway. So let them talk, this was too damned interesting to worry about these foreigners’ propriety. <br><br>“So you hope you will find some clue to your past in the manor?” He nodded, beginning to understand. “I have known other orphans in Tuefeldorf—a sad fact of The Devil Strahd’s conquest of my people. And as the foundlings grew older, their lack of knowledge about their own pasts seemed to leave them adrift, like leaves on the wind.” He shrugged, not bothering to explain how this wealthy jewel merchant had come to know so many orphans. “My father kept immaculate records of our family.” The hint of a smile. “Three horse thieves—one hanged, an uncle who swindled a widow blind in Krezk, a great grandmother who may or may not have been a were-bat, depending on how literally you take the accounts. It seems to me that sometimes, ignorance is bliss.” <br><br>“May I?” he asked when she held out the locket. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the palm of her hand as he held the locked closer to the light. He eyed the white and red stones, but did not know what to make of them. Perhaps the Godefroy family colors? He turned loose of the locket, his touch light upon her hand once again. <br><br>Kovac crooked his head to the side when she mentioned the combination of prayer and sorcerery. “Truly? I’ve known only a handful who claimed the power to intercede for the gods with one hand and wield powers ripped from the arcane fabric with the other. Powerful folk indeed.” He gave her a coy look, “but none of –them- made for pleasant afternoon conversation.” But underneath his banter was a sudden sense of caution. Hilda was speaking as if whatever spirits haunted the manor were merely lonely. And yet Kovac had encountered so few of the walking dead whose intentions were anything close to benign. And perhaps he could learn something, some trick to help him dead with his own spectre. <br><br>“Consider me signed on, Lady Godefroy.” He sits up a little straighter, leaving the last few sips of his wine untouched. “When did you wish to begin?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>04-04-2013, 18:24:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"Well, I don't know really,"</em> Hilda admitted with a bit of a frown.&nbsp; <em>"It all is very mysterious, and the barrister suggested that the family connection was not strong and he knew nothing of my parents other than their names.&nbsp; It was surmised that their carriage had gone over the cliffs in the vicinity of the Darlings household.&nbsp; Only the necklace I wore and my age and appearance connects me to them -- I have no memory at all of them, save perhaps flashes that may be invention more than true memory.&nbsp; But my interest lies not in the past, but the future.&nbsp; I would see Stamford house opened up again and the house and lands used to further research into the spiritual realm."</em><br><br>Hilda's hand was warm, and the locket as well from the heat of her body, and she evinced no discomfort at either the touch or his gaze, though the innkeeper's wife in the corner looked as if she'd bitten into a particularly green persimmon.<br><br>Her eyes widened in fascination as he detailed his family history. <em> "Really?&nbsp; How fascinating.&nbsp; Most people's family history is presented as ever so respectable and boring -- even when I am sure it is not.&nbsp; You are very forthcoming and honest -- or are you simply trying to shock me?&nbsp; " </em> Hilda lowered her voice and leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper and a smile. <em> "Unlike many of my countrymen, I do not shock so easily, though I would refrain from mentioning the bit about the were-bat to the innkeeper, 'lest he line all the windows and doors with ash leaves, garlic, and wolvesbane or somesuch."</em><br><br>Hilda's smile grew at the compliment, though she didn't blush or simper.&nbsp; When Korvac did not find some sudden forgotten errand to hold out after she had explained her need, she reached out to squeeze his arm in gratitude and excitement.&nbsp; <em>"I can be ready at barely a moment's notice.&nbsp; There is the small matter of a signature upon documents that the Mayor holds ... I have everything all prepared, and it should not take long to purchase any perishable supplies.&nbsp; How quickly could you be ready depart?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>06-04-2013, 20:32:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“My lady,” he said with a grin wicked enough to bely his corteous words, “if I wished to shock somebody who speaks to the souls of the dead, I think I’d have to try harder than tales of mountain bandits and feisty, perhaps furry, forebears. Or…” his head tilted to the side a little, “perhaps I hold much darker secrets, and these stories I tell you are what pass for small talk to my warped and twisted mind.” Now, the tough of humor at the corners of his eyes belied that particular possibility. <br><br>“Research, you say? So it is not your intention to banish these spirits to the next world? Or do you think the house itself holds some sort of power, beyond those spirits who dwell their now? Intriguing possibilities…” <br><br>And dangerous too, no doubt. Kovac was not a man who had the luxury of relying on superstition and hearsay when dealing with the undead. Time and again, he had faced then down and send then running, or left them in pieces. But he’d only tried to understand them to the extent that such an understanding made them easier to avoid, supplicate, or destroy. Again something inside him warned to beware. And again his own curiosity, his own confidence that he could handle whatever strangeness awaited him, overruled that caution. <br><br>“Careful now, my lady,” Kovac said in a tone of mock chastisement as she reached for his arm. “Ribald behavior like that might make you the talk of this town.&nbsp; I could be ready, say, as soon as my horse is watered, fed, and brushed down. Duke Gundar has proven a faithful mount, and I’d give him that courtesy. As for myself, my gear is still packed, so I can be off at any time. I’ve a notion,” he said in a quiet voice, his eyes briefly flicking to the other dull patrons of the tavern before returning to her, “that your offer’s the most interesting invitation I’m like to come by here.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>08-04-2013, 19:57:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda thought a moment, sipping her tea as she attempted to sort out what to make of his teasing and the roguish grin.&nbsp; The Darlings, she knew, would likely not approve at all, but she rather liked it all the same.&nbsp; Korvac didn't seem entirely safe, but it seemed to her that perhaps someone who worried overly about proprieties was not what was needed in an escort.&nbsp; Along with that, she couldn't help liking him, even perhaps feeling somewhat drawn toward him.&nbsp; &nbsp;It wasn't the sort of companionable feeling she'd had with others, for whom she'd felt the sort of immediate affection one might give to a brother or uncle, but rather something as intriguing and slightly dangerous as the man himself.&nbsp; <br><br>Abruptly, Hilda sat down the tea cup, wondering how it had taken her this long to notice how hot it was.&nbsp; She dismissed the odd tugging feeling as her instincts, her psychic sense, giving its approval of the arrangement, especially when it seemed that her escort was ready to sign on to the expedition.<br><br><em>"You know, I hadn't thought of it that way before.&nbsp; The spirits of the dead sometimes have the same pride in their ancestry as do the living ... even when such ancestry has been proven false.&nbsp; One would think they'd simply know ... but that has not been my experience in all cases.&nbsp; I'm glad that you do not take yourself so dreadfully seriously.&nbsp; It is truly fortunate that the fates have brought you here ... or perhaps the spirits are simply lending their approval to the task."</em><br><br>She smiled at him over the table.&nbsp; "Wonderful!" she enthused, half standing in her eagerness before she realized how silly she was being and sat again. <em> "I can arrange for the supplies needed.&nbsp; I'm afraid that the workers who have agreed to come will not do so until I have spent at least three nights in the house and emerged unharmed.&nbsp; However, they can bring most of the supplies with them - we need enough only to make ourselves comfortable and begin work.&nbsp; I judge that we could leave here in time enough to reach Stamford House a bit before dusk, though I admit that near dark is not perhaps the best time to enter a troubled area for the first time ... what would you recommend?"</em><br><br>Left to her own choice, she would leave as soon as arrangements could be made.&nbsp; Hilda was eager to begin, and thoroughly sick of the dull and overly cautious folk of Idlethorpe.&nbsp; This adventure, she was certain, would be the beginning of her own independence ... and though she had never felt smothered by the attentions and concern of her guardians before, she found herself longing to slip free of the silken chains.<br><br>With all her experience with spirits, which was considerably more than many her age could claim, she was oblivious to the subtle changes in herself the closer she drew to Stamford House.&nbsp; That her own cautions and inhibitions were ever so gently eroding did not even cross her mind as she squeezed Korvac's arm again and beamed at him.&nbsp; <em>"It will be an adventure!"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>11-04-2013, 06:18:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“If I took myself at all seriously, something tells me I wouldn’t be so readily agreeing to plunge myself yet again into the world of the unliving. But alas, I had my fill of the overly serious long ago.” And there was not a lie in that. With the fall of Gundarak and the invasion of the Barovians, Kovac’s people had labored under the stern, serious rule of Strahd and his ilk. The Barovians, with their joylessness, a pox on the land. It was that same sense of oppressive gravity that had given Kovac his wanderlust in the first place. <br><br>At the talk of supplies and the best time to depart, Kovac ran one hand through his thick, dark hair as he considered the options. “Three whole nights? Perhaps it is best to get started now. After all, we are no children out on a dare. We know what to expect when we get there. Or at least, we know it won’t be peace and quiet. The sooner it’s begun, the sooner it’s completed, no?” <br><br>“Besides,” he added with a wry look, “It –will- be an adventure.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as she touched his arm. “Things until now had been rather dull since leaving Valachan. Granted, I’ve ran into no skeletal jaguars looking to make me there breakfast here in Mordent. But there is only so much safety one man can endure before going mad. A little danger’s good for the blood sometimes.” And there too was the curiosity, the drive to learn more about these spectres, in hopes that they’d lead some insight into the dead woman who haunted the peripheries of his existence. He’d hoped to find the answers in Mordent, but perhaps he’d learn better here, perhaps he’d learn better by experience. That’s how he’d always learned best. Or at least, that’s what the liked to tell himself. More opportunities for experiences, that way. <br><br>And spending three days in a secluded manor with the woman now before him most definely counted as an experience as far as Kovac was concerned.&nbsp; Sadly, the wayward Gundarakite saw now gaps in the young woman’s morals, but at least she didn’t see to be the priggish type that plagued this land. Finishing his drink, he stood, and extended a hand to her. “Shall we see to those arrangements, my lady?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>12-04-2013, 02:57:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The idea of skeletal jaguars caused a pleasant shudder, and a look of admiration that Korvac so casually discussed things that would make most of the dullards in Idlethorpe pale like milk and seek thick doors between themselves and the darkness.&nbsp; <em>"I believe our meeting most fortunate, Korvac, and with your help, I am confident that we can set things to right.&nbsp; &nbsp;It likely won't be easy, but few things worth doing ever are, are they?"</em><br><br>The tea forgotten, Hilda took the offered hand and rose eagerly, though in afterthought seemed to be in some quandry about the proper response to the gesture that was expected.&nbsp; In the end, she shrugged her shoulders and decided to let whoever would be offended be, and simply squeezed his hand snugly while smiling up at him, and did not hurry to take her hand away.&nbsp; <em>"Yes, let us do that and be off as soon as may be!."</em><br><br>The first stop was to the innkeeper, whom she informed that she would be leaving forthwith and instructing him to have her horse harnessed to her cart, and her things brought down.&nbsp; The innkeeper's look of mixed surprise and relief bordered on insulting, but Hilda was simply too relieved and overjoyed to be bothered with taking him to task.&nbsp; From there, it was on to the mayor's, where Hilda impatiently and with a touch of an aristocratic air, cut short the man's attempt to establish Korvac's qualifications. <em> "It is said that beggars cannot be choosers, Mayor Steuben, but I am confident that I could not have chosen better were there an army of candidates from which which to select.&nbsp; I am quite satisfied, so if you will be so good as to settle my bill at the mercantile and release the funds for initial expenses, we will trouble you no further until we come to present evidence of our success."</em><br><br>Her small slippered foot tapped on the polished wooden floor ominously until the mayor had counted out and handed over both a decent advance for Korvac's service and for the supplies she wished to purchase plus a bit more for any unexpected expenses.<br><br>A final stop at the merchant's for perishables that Hilda could not purchase in advance, and a last visit to her room at the inn to make sure nothing had been left behind, and Hilda was seated in the small cart with gloved hands holding the reins confidently.&nbsp; In the back was a trunk of Hilda's belongings, and a smaller trunk securely locked that she explained held the materials, books, and reference materials of her calling, along with sturdy sacks from the merchants holding foodstuffs, drink, and various tools and supplies that would come in handy in a house that had been unoccupied for more than a generation.<br><br>Hilda took a last look around the small town, and at the locals who peered at them curiously after word of their intent had spread, and then smiled once more at her intrepid protector.&nbsp; <em>"Have we forgotten anything?&nbsp; If not, we should be on our way if we wish to reach Stamford House before dark."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>15-04-2013, 00:27:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When he took her hand, it was as a gentleman would, with his thumb barely touching her knuckles and his fingers crooked against her palm. His veneer of sincerity cracked then, and he gave her a rebellious smirk even as his posture remained ever that of some high-born gentlemen. “Then let us not delay.” <br><br>After Hilda had thoroughly put the mayor in her place, Kovac gave Mayor Steuben a cheerful smile, then produced a well-worn letter from his pocket.&nbsp; “I think this might suffice to put your fears at ease, my good man.Perhaps I should have shown this earlier, but I confess it was too much fun watching Hilda work to interrupt.” He handed the letter, which proved to be an introduction from one Professor Junius Septimus of Martira Bay in Darkon. In the letter, the good professor begged the reader to excuse Kovac Gabrosza of his backwater upbringing, and provided assurance that Kovac was a man of character. Kovac’s skills in assisting Septimus with research into the mysterious forces surrounding The Necropolis were particularly noted and praised. Like many scholars in Darkon, Professor Septimus signed the letter with a quick sketch of the symbol for Bane the Lawgiver. “So you can see, our mutual acquaintance Lady Godefroy is in the best of hands.” <br><br>At the merchant’s, he made his selection of provisions, keeping to the simple fare he’d grown used to on the road.&nbsp; Of course, the culinary arts in Mordent made simple dining preferable. Better hard tack than boiled everything. Of course, not all of Kovac’s purchases were as simple. <br><br>“I’m looking for smoke powder,” he said, tapping the butt of his pistol. <br><br>The merchant narrowed his eyes. “Aye. But do you have gold enough?”<br><br>A noncommittal shrug. “Not exactly,” he said, though the smile didn’t fade from his face as he opened his pouch to produce two cut, translucent emeralds he’d taken from the Jaguar Barrows. “I trust this will suffice.” <br><br>And it did. It might have seemed strange, stocking up on gunpowder to ward against spirits.&nbsp; But he had bullets of silver and bullets of cold iron to go with the lead ones, and even a few of those common bullets had been doused in holy water and prayed over. Whether that would do any good, he’d no idea. But prayer had gotten him out of more than one scrape. The last refuge of a scoundrel, indeed.&nbsp; <br><br>His provisions and gundpowder packed squarely away on Duke Gundar’s saddlebags, Kovac stood at the edge of town with Hilda, ready to make their way to Stamford House. Whatever faced them, he was quite excited to be on his way, and no small part of him hoped to encounter something of the supernatural this very evening. Dealing with the unliving had, in truth, been a part of his stock and trade for well over a decade. And to learn more about the incorporeals would be---<br><br>There she was again. The same woman, the same wound. This time she was standing in a field close to the road that led away from town, ravens about her like a scarecrow. All other times he’d seen her, she’d worn a smile that he’d always taken for mocking cruelty. But now she wore a look of utter concern of her spectral features, like a frightened mother. <br><br>Kovac shook his head and she was gone. He touched something underneath his shirt.&nbsp; “Tell me, Hilda,” he said as they continued, “you said prayer plays a part in all this. What god do you pray to?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>16-04-2013, 20:45:29</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				On her seat in the carriage, Hilda's emotions were warring between a sense of heady excitement and foreboding.&nbsp; As Kovac finished tucking away his purchases in his saddlebags, she took the carthorse's reins between her folded fingers and held&nbsp; them together pointing upward, raising her arms and shoulders to facilitate better blood flow as she attempted to enter a calming, meditative state.<br><br>When Korvac spoke, she jerked from the light reverie, her eyes traveling instictively and without apparent reason toward the field where Kovac's gaze lingered.&nbsp; <em>"What?&nbsp; Oh ... forgive me, Kovac.&nbsp; &nbsp;I'm just a bit eager to get started, and a bit apprehensive as well.&nbsp; I don't think that what we'll encounter at Stamford House will be pleasant, but I'm certain that we can deal with it so long as we both keep our heads and our purpose.&nbsp; Prayer?&nbsp; Well ... I hope you don't find me too silly, but I've come to believe that there is more than one force for good in the world.&nbsp; The Darlings follow the teachings of Ezra, as do I ... but I've also sought to learn more of The Tale of Ages.&nbsp; There are also other spirits who linger in the world ... not, I'm convinced, out of the darker emotions of the heart but to protect those they loved in life.&nbsp; I suppose that my prayers go out to both Ezra and Hala, and to any other forces for good that might hear them.&nbsp; There is so much bad in the world ... why seek its easing in only one place.&nbsp; Perhaps it's because I've always sensed some of that force near me.&nbsp; My mother, or so I've come to believe ... a loving spirit who has more than once guided me away from danger."<br></em><br>Hilda's face, as she spoke of that guiding spirit, took on an expression of calm joy, and her smile was sweet and serene ... though as she slapped the reins lightly against the cart's tongue to set the horse to moving, she glanced over at Kovac with an almost sly, seductive gaze that disappeared as quickly as it had come.&nbsp; Hilda seemed unaware of anything more, and her next look was again friendly and determined, but nothing more.<br><br><em>"Do you believe in the power of prayer?&nbsp; Whom do you follow, if it would not be rude of me to ask?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>17-04-2013, 06:24:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Are there many gods?” Kovac put a hand to his chin. “I think so, yes. But do they work in harmony? If so, why is the world the way it is?” As he spoke, the glibness he’d displayed at the inn slipped off, and now the stranger stared at something a league beyond. “There is too much suffering, too much unspoken terror, too many strange creatures in the night for this to be a world where the gods strive together for the good of all mankind. Either there are no gods, or there are dozens all warring with each other, leaving our fates hanging in a balance.” <br><br>“But I think they are real all the same. Yet how does a man know the mind of a god? The Ezra you pray to may be a saintly woman, ready to defend kin and country. But down the street, The Ezra your neighbor prays to might be a bloodthirsty tyrant, no better than the damned Lawgiver himself.” He shook his head; apparently this kind of philosophy was old territory for the wandering Gundarakite. “How can we ever know what’s right in their eyes?” <br><br>He was silent for a time. He thought of the flask of brandy he kept in his breast pocket, but then thought better of it.&nbsp; He’d been awfully fond of drink in his younger days, and though he’d curtailed the worst of that habit by now he’d never been the kind to give it up entire. Still, better to have one’s wits in a time like this, so he left the flask where it was. <br><br>“That makes me sound like an unrepentant heathen, and perhaps to some I am. But I have my faith and I have my god, however much I might quarrel with him.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out the amulet that hung around his neck. It was cast in silver, and by the look of the wear around the edges far older than the man who wore it. The amulet bore the image of a stylized sun rising against the horizon.<br><br>“The Morninglord.” He had felt some hesitation in mentioning this point. Few outside his homeland prayed to Lathander, and even those who lived in what once was Gundarak did not always trust The Morninglord’s priests.&nbsp; Many outside of Barovia regarded The Morninglord’s adherents as little more than a cult at best. At worst, the rumors painted them out to be dangerous anarchists, or assassins who worshipped a man-eating elf like unto a god. And so telling her anything about his beliefs had been a risk, but she’d told him the truth. He owed her in kind. <br><br>“Let them all think what they will about Lathander. But I’ve seen his power at work. Seen it work through me. I can heal with a touch, call down his light on the wicked, or defend the weak. His priests taught me that, let me study along with them. And whether I have this…talent through blind luck orh throug The Morninglord’s will, I aim to do a bit of good with it.” And for the first time since he started on this thread, he smiled. “Whether the old bastard wants me to or not.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>17-04-2013, 21:33:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"If there are gods, and I too think there must be, they do not answer prayers in accordance to our belief regarding their nature -- of that I am as certain as I am that our prayers do not go unheard for good or ill." </em> Hilda's smile as she answered carried a trace of sadness, but also of a gentle certainty that spoke of few nights of tossing torture contemplating the reasons for the world's sorrows.<br><br><em>"Perhaps I will never know the will of the gods, but it seems to me that right is to cause as little hurt to others as we can manage, while defending ourselves from those who would see us hurt for selfish ends ... to enjoy the blessings of each day as they come, and to help each other through the days when the blessings are absent."</em><br><br>She laughed a bit at Kovac's description of his god, though not at him and not disapproving, one gloved hand covering her mouth.&nbsp; <em>"Gracious!&nbsp; You make it sound as if Lathander is a curmudgeonly grandfather that you love very much all the more for the arguments,"</em> she said with lightly shining eyes as she examined his amulet without presuming to touch it, though her expression suggested that she might have liked to.&nbsp; <em>"Perhaps it is your faith and that allows you those gifts.&nbsp; I am doubly glad that you have chosen to come with me, for if the poor recent history of Stamford House is as the story was told, the spirits lost there to there own pain will surely benefit from the light of faith and love, from where ever it may spring."<br></em><br><em>"Shall we?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>20-04-2013, 23:52:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;“We may never truly know the mind of the gods, and yet you are right. We still have a sense of right and wrong. But from where?” He shook his head. “I serve my god as best I can, but some questions are beyond me. Do some good when you can, dish out some bad when you need to. Try not to do the latter to the people who need the former. Not a complex philosophy, but it’s gotten me this far with my head still on my shoulders.” <br><br>He slapped his thigh and gave a heart chuckle when she spoke of his attitude toward his god. “I’d say you’ve hit the nail square on. There are many in the lands Von Zarovich occupies who have no faith at all. I cannot blame them. But some of us from the lands that were once Gundarak, we have seen what the Morninglord can do. But you are right, sometimes you need to do a little yelling to get him to listen. But once you convince him to get behind the plow, he does great things.” Or terrifying things, or both, depending on who you asked. That was neither here nor there. <br><br>“But I don’t think it’s my faith that allows these gives. Even when I was young, I noticed things. Scrapes that would heal faster, bets that would end in my favor. I think if anything, The Morninglord gives me focus. Keeps me mindful of things I might otherwise find a convenient excuse for.” Say for example, spending a few days in a haunted mansion with a talented spiritualist. “I have full confidence that we’ll bring peace to those who desire it. And those who’d seek to cause us harm, well, fire and silver and Lathander’s cleansing light should more than take care of the rest. <br><br>“Enough of my rambling though, let us see what Stamford House holds for us!” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>22-04-2013, 19:47:29</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda smiled warmly at her Gundarak protector, thinking that she would have expected to find him more grim based upon her readings regarding that troubled land ... but acknowledging that perhaps the same could be said of her.&nbsp; It was quite refreshing to deal with someone who had both faith and hope and was willing to do something about the ills that were visited upon the lands instead of just hoping that if they were ignored they would trouble someone else.&nbsp; <em>"I indeed count myself fortunate that you were passing by just in my time of need, Kovac.&nbsp; Perhaps the gods and even the spirits themselves have cast their approval upon this endeavor.&nbsp; Yes, let us put the miles behind us!"</em><br><br>Along the way, Hilda chatted amiably about growing up with the Darlings and becoming involved in their scholarly and spiritualist pursuits.&nbsp; Since her early teens, Hilda had possessed an burgeoning sensitivity for spirits, or so she shared, and could often sense their presence.&nbsp; The Darlings had conducted seances, teaching her how to harness this affinity, and in time she claimed to have developed some ability to communicate with certain willing spirits, to help them resolve the problems and pains that anchored them to their ended lives and allowing them to depart to what awaited them on the 'other side'.&nbsp; <em>"I could not share this freely with those in Idlethorpe, of course.&nbsp; Their minds are mostly closed and I feared that some would suggest that I was in league with the forces of darkness simply because I did not hurry away."</em><br><br>The stories she shared of her personal life suggested a happy childhood, though one that seemed atypically steeped in the Darlings' pursuits so that most of the people in Hilda's life seemed to have been involved in the same view of the world so that more commonplace relationships had been something of a rarity.&nbsp; Though she regarded the Darlings with obvious fondness, it became clear that Hilda considered them over-protective and was relishing the opportunity to exert her independence, despite the circumstances that prevented them from accompanying her.<br><br>At first, Hilda avoided the topic of just what those circumstances were by asking Kovac about his travels and experiences.&nbsp; Though she liked to talk, she was a good listener, and very admiring of his adventurous spirit and independence, and was even more forthcoming with praise for the deeds he shared than was polite.&nbsp; Eventually, though, she admitted that the barrister for Godefroy family had given in to their insistence to accompany her to Stamford house with reluctance -- though he had been most helpful when Mr. Darling had been injured in a terrible fall, arranging for the Darlings to be transported to the city where he would receive care in the best private hospital available.&nbsp; He was recovering nicely, or so the letters assured her, but of course the barrister had pointed out that under the terms of her inheritance, a delay would be impossible without forfeiting her birthright.&nbsp; Hilda seemed genuinely distressed for the pain of Mr. Darling's injury, but also somewhat relieved that it had afforded her the opportunity to direct her own life.<br><br>The road running past the long path to Stamford House was as well taken care of as most in Mordent, but when they reached the fork leading to the Godefroy estate, the once well-kept path was choked with the grasses and weeds, though otherwise clear.&nbsp; &nbsp;The path itself was straight, and led through a mile or more of trees before opening up again to wide fields upon the right, and the house itself back against a dark canopy of trees to the left.&nbsp; A stone wall surrounded the house and its grounds, still strong and tall though mossy and its surface pitted by the growth of vines and the bite of weather.&nbsp; Along the top of the wall was a short fence with sharp iron spikes to discourage entry other than through one of the wrought gates.&nbsp; Hilda rummaged in her bag of knitting which was tucked near her in the cart, and produced a ring of keys.&nbsp; <em>"I think the largest must open the gates, and there are others for the house.&nbsp; I'm afraid that they're not labeled, but I'm sure we will manage."</em><br><br>Inside the fence, the trees grew wild and untrimmed, and the grass was high (though certainly not as though it had been standing untouched for a generation). The cobbled walkway was clear enough to allow passage for cart and horse alike in single file.&nbsp; Just beyond the main house were several smaller buildings, one of which appeared to have been a small stable.&nbsp; A certain amount of neglect was obvious, but the structure at a distance appeared to be strong and well-crafted, though a good coat of whitewash and paint would not have been unwelcome.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>24-04-2013, 03:46:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				On the ride to the mansion, Kovac proved to be an attentive listener. He had spent much time, perhaps too much time, telling his own tales at inn and taverns across the world. He was hungry to hear someone else’s for a change. If she told the truth, she’d had more contact with spirits than many priests he knew. So this would be a learning experience after all. <br><br>“I envy that you learned to use your skills so young. I never dared tell my parents. I found a wounded rabbit in the woods.” A pause, then a sheepish look. “I was the one who’d wounded it. New slingshot. I went up to the poor little thing and begged for something to fix its broken leg. And something did. As it ran off, I’d realized it was me. I don’t know which of us was more afraid.” <br><br>Kovac told the story of his own upbringing.&nbsp; His parents had been working class folk, his father a laborer who’d once served as a caravan guard, his mother a spinstress. She had died when he was nine, a fever that had taken her in less than a full day’s passing. It had been hard on him, he admitted. But when the Barovians invaded less than a year later, he had come to see her death almost as a perverse blessing, that she wouldn’t have had to endure Barovian occupation ant the inevitable atrocities. His father had died several years later. Most had said it was an workhouse accident. After that, Kovac had been wayward, a man in name only at 13. He spoke with little hesitance, as if speaking of a wound long healed and scarred over. <br><br>On his own, he had begun relying on the strange powers he’d sensed since he was a child, powers that he never told anybody about, not even his parents. It had been a priest of the Morninglord who’d noticed his abilities and took him in. It was the cult that had given him his sense of purpose when all had seemed lost. <br><br>So it seemed they had another thing in common, and Kovac could not tell which was worse—to lose one’s parents young, or to grow up without their memory at all? But he tried not to dwell on such morbid talk. He’d have all the morbidity he could handle soon enough, if Hilda was right about the mansion. So he changed the subject, telling her of his adventurers as a wandering priest. He’d been sent to far-off Sri Raji to hunt down a soul-eating ghoul, and how he’d found his talwar in its tomb.&nbsp; He spoke of Darkon, and an elven ghoul who’d eaten rotten fruit instead of robbing graves. That was his only tale of the undead that hadn’t ended with him vanquishing the creature. It seemed as though he’d fought and quelled just about every sort of form corrupted flesh could take. And yet none of his anecdotes had involved the spirit world itself. Regbardless, he kept the stories light, or as light as they could be considering both their trades. <br><br>When she explained about her father, Kovac gave her a sympathetic look. He’d have been lying if he’d told her he hadn’t felt a certain sense of wild freedom underneath the grief and guilt and raw suffering of his last living parent’s death. And he still clung to that freedom more than half a lifetime later. “They miss you, but on the bright side, it gives them a chance to spend time together.” A grin. “Much as I’d hate to deprive them of a houseful of spooks.” <br><br>Once he beheld Stamford House itself, he gave a low whistle. “I knew it would be big. I didn’t expect it to be a compound,” he said, looking at the smaller buildings. “A shame inded to let a place like this go fallow. Well, my lady,” he said,indicating the house with a sweeping gesture as if he were a valet, “let us see what Stamford holds for us.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>24-04-2013, 23:16:46</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"How sad that you had to keep the secret of your gift alone.&nbsp; Thank you for telling me."&nbsp; </em>When she could, Hilda reached out to touch his arm in sympathy, her eyes wide and mournful as she looked at him.&nbsp; There were few things she could imagine worse than having to deal with such a thing so young, without anyone to provide guidance and reassure. <em> "That you've done so much with it to benefit others is marvelous.&nbsp; You're a good man, Kovac."</em><br><br>She chuckled softly at the thought of the Darlings wishing to spend time alone together, but even as she did so, her brows drew together in a puzzled sort of bemusement and she looked again at Kovac, her lips parting slightly as distance and a new perspective brought a slightly uncomfortable, more adult understanding of things that might well pass between her foster parents out of her sight.&nbsp; "Yes, I suppose so."<br><br>The house was rather daunting, or inspiring, Hilda conceded silently as she gazed through the iron bars.&nbsp; <em>"I knew it would be large.&nbsp; According to the barrister, there were twenty servants for the house and grounds, and the house parties given here both when it was new and before the closure saw up to twenty guests."</em><br><br>The keys jangled noisily as she held them out to Kovac.&nbsp; <em>"Would you mind?&nbsp; That way, I can drive the cart right through to the stables.&nbsp; I suppose the best place to start is there, so the animals can be comfortable while we investigate the house -- wouldn't you say?" </em><br><br>A light wind picked up, and for a moment, Hilda thought she could smell the scent of woodsmoke, and her gaze went distant as she picked up distant echoes of laughter and conversation.<br><br>"Oh, how happy things were here then," she murmured softly, her own face lighting with a smile as she envisioned a future with Stamford House reopened.&nbsp; <em>"So much good can be accomplished here - we can bring Stamford House back to life, and make it a monument to withstanding adversity rather than a sad testament to misadventure and accident."</em><br><br>The key opened the lock soundlessly, and the gates were pushed open with only a bit of effort and an eerie creak.&nbsp; &nbsp;<em>"Perhaps we should secure them behind us?&nbsp; Though given how eager the locals are to avoid this place, I cannot see them entering even if the gates were left open wide."</em><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>26-04-2013, 05:26:04</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Heh, I don't know if I'm a -good- man." There was something in his voice that spspoke of long hours spent considering that very question. His denial was not merely the glib dismissal of a man who wanted his ego stroked. "Ridding the land of corruption has been good to me in many ways. You'd be surprised what treasures you can find on the hunt." He raised an eyebrow, then tilted his head, acknowledging that he was speaking to no rank amateur. "Or maybe you wouldn't. I'd be lying if I said my adventures were motivated purely by altruism." That had been part of it, of course, the pride, the sense of accomplishment of serving the ideals of his faith, even if he didn't always live up to them. Even if Lathander weren't real. <br><br>The itinerant priest jumped to the ground, and took his personal mount by the reins. "The stables sound like a fine choice," he said and patted Duke Gundar on the head. "I owe him a good rest anyway." Kovac did not hear voices or laughter on the wind, and for a moment he wondered at the certainty in her voice when she said things had been happy here. Could she sense something that he didn't?&nbsp; He wondered if she'd seen his personal spectre. He'd expected that shade to appear at any minute, but he hadn't seen her for some time now. He should have been relieved. <br><br>He eyed the gate. "I would be less concerned about somebody trying to sneak onto the grounds, and more concerned about somebody or something trying to keep us -in-. A locked gate might be a problem should we need to make a quick getaway." He examined the earth under the gate, then smiled. "Perhaps another way." <br><br>Kovac took a dagger from his boot and crouched low. He began tracing a pattern on the ground. At first a line, which became the horizon for a sunrise. Lances of fire sprung from the semicircular sun, and when Kovac was finished, the drawing glowed a bright red, and disappeared.&nbsp; <br><br>"A precaution. Should somebody cross the boundaries with malicious intent, that glyph should keep them busy long enough for us to know about it. Speak the word 'dusk' should you need to pass over it, and you'll pass through it freely."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>29-04-2013, 23:33:11</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><em>"I've heard stories,"</em> Hilda admitted with a small smile.&nbsp; <em>"Many of those who've sought out the Darlings' help ... and mine thereby ... paid fees to allow us to continue our work, based on what they could afford mostly." </em> She had never been involved with the details of recompense, though certainly the Darlings had made her aware when the patron was influential. <em> "But is was not always a lucrative endeavor, at least in terms of material recompense."</em>&nbsp; It had not been easy, with creditors always politely watchful, but things had loosened up quite a bit in the last several years ... and, of course, Hilda hoped to help still more after her inheritance was secured. <em> "There is certainly nothing wrong with looking out for your own interests, and many seem to excel at doing little for others, no matter how fortune has favored them."</em><br><br>She blushed a little as she realized how much like Mrs. Darling she sounded.&nbsp; <em>"I'm sorry.&nbsp; I should not say things like that - there are so many circumstances that I cannot see.&nbsp; It was ungenerous of me."</em><br><br>She watched in fascination as Kovic worked his magic at the gates, smiling in delight as she realized she could see something of it -- though she kept a tight rein on the cart horse just in case.&nbsp; <em>"Oh, lovely!&nbsp; What sort of things does it work on?&nbsp; What if one of the horses went through -- it wouldn't hurt them, would it?"</em><br><br>Once they had made their preparations at the gate, they made their way to the stables.&nbsp; Like the gate, the building was secured by a chain and padlock, but Hilda's ring of keys easily, if slowly, had it opened as well.&nbsp; All was quiet inside, but the air was fresh and there was no sign of dust.&nbsp; From the loft, the scent of fresh hay drifted down, and there were two woven sacks of grain stacked neatly near the door that when Hilda opened were fresh and unmolded.&nbsp; She lifted some up in her gloved hand, and let it pour back into the sack, her brow wrinkled in puzzlement.&nbsp; <em>"I had the impression that noone had seen to the place in decades.&nbsp; Perhaps the barrister was able to hire someone, and word missed me on the road ... though I would have thought he would have known to send word to Mayor Steuben."</em><br><br>After a few moments, her look of worry cleared.&nbsp; <em>"Of course, he did.&nbsp; You saw how reluctant the Mayor was.&nbsp; He must have known but refrained from telling me because I would have been all the more eager to come, alone if necessary -- or perhaps it was meant to be a pleasant surprise - welcoming us to Stamford.&nbsp; Not from the mayor, certainly, but from the barrister.&nbsp; He did say he had been in service to the Godefroy family for many years."</em><br><br>Her face lit with hopeful anticipation as she went to work unhitching the carthorse and getting him into one of the stalls.&nbsp; <em>"You don't suppose he found someone to see to the house too?&nbsp; That would be marvelous!"</em><br><br>The answer she'd arrived at didn't make a lot of sense, at least not from her impression of the barrister, but what other answer could there be?&nbsp; He had been a stranger to both her and the Darlings, and justifiably suspicious of her identity -- both things which did not contribute to getting to know a thoughtful nature.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>07-05-2013, 05:40:43</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				If Kovac had somehow been offended by Hilda’s speaking of do little for others, the wandering priest made no show of it. Instead, he merely chuckled. “No man—or woman—can see all the circumstances, ‘tis true. And surely I’ve been on the wrong end of people’s judgment before. But some folks who leave a bad taste in your mouth do so because they’re made of bile, through and through. The mind is a powerful weapon, but one should never blindly dismiss one’s instincts.”&nbsp; A roguish grin. “Except when it comes to me. You can trust me –implicitly-.” <br><br>But of course, she wouldn’t, Kovac mused. Too clever for that, especially now as she asked him about th ward he’d put over the gate.&nbsp; “No horses, only the footprints of men would set this off.” He glanced to the manor house. “I’ve no idea if it wards against those without flesh. But if they are tied to the house I suppose it makes little difference. If they are tied to the house. <br><br>At the stables, the smell of fresh hay stood out immediately to Kovac. He’d spent more than one night on the road holed up in some local farmer or aother’s barn, and he knew the musty stench of old, neglected hay. And this was far from it. “Mayhaps you’re right. Still, ‘tis passing strange.” Could this be the work of whatever spirits haunted the place. If so, why make such a welcome for them?&nbsp; <br><br>His face twisted into a frown when she asked if the mayor had sent somebody. “He did not strike me as that sort of man. I’d imagine he’s the kind of stone you’d have to squeeze pretty hard to get any blood out of.&nbsp; Your barrister, maybe, but I’d be surprised if our accommodations went far beyond the hay for our horses. But let us find out, yes?” <br><br>With a casual stride, he moved to the door of the mansion and opened it, his long fingered hands on the maive wrought iron handle. His othr ad rested on the butt of his pistol, which as already primed and loaded with silver shot. He’d no idea if that would have any effect on the creatures within the mansion, but he half-expected some creature to rush at him as soon as he opened the door. <br><br>Instead, there was nothing but the sound of the hinges creaking as the door swung open, though the creek wasn’t as loud as Kovac would have expected from the years of neglect. But what he saw was anything but neglected. A foyer opened into an ornate receiving room, its walls hung with tapestries and even an ancient matchlock hunting gun.&nbsp; The weapon looked well-cared for and strangely free of rust. <br>&nbsp;<br>“Perhaps we have been expected after all.” <br><br>His eyes then went to a pair of portraits on the wall. “Hilda, are you seeing that?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>12-05-2013, 16:41:45</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda left everything she had brought in the small cart and followed Kovac to the door of house, preparing her mental defenses as she went with a simple mental exercise.&nbsp; The size of the house hadn't daunted her -- she'd been too busy thinking how she could put the rooms to use -- but the first sight of so much space behind the open door made her feel somewhat faint.&nbsp; She'd never experienced personally the kind of money and decadence that the furnishings of Stamford House suggested, and the rush of excitement both eroded her defenses and made her oblivious to their lack.<br><br>"It's marvelous!" she enthused, leaving the door open to let in the light. <em> "Can you imagine what it will look like with the shutters open&nbsp; and candles lit?"&nbsp; </em>Hilda could imagine it, easily, and she smiled as she breathed in deeply through her mouth as if to suck it all in.&nbsp; One gloved hand ran across the rich wooden paneling, then a fingertip traced the outline of a tapestry in vibrant red, blue and gold.&nbsp; In her mind's eye, she stood at the head of the receiving room, clad in a gown finer and more daring than anything she'd worn or imagined, and welcomed people as they arrived with a bright smile and a warm touch.&nbsp; She could almost feel the heated brush of breath and lips on her hand, and shivered at the intensity.<br><br>Kovac's question broke her out of her reverie, dismissing it, and she moved over to stand beside him to regard the portraits he had brought to her attention.&nbsp; The portrait on the right was of an fair-haired woman dressed in a white evening gown of ruffles and lace.&nbsp; She had posed standing for the portrait, and the artist had painted her from the side, though her neck was turned just enough that her face was almost in the traditional view, though tilted just enough that her gaze seemed to be on the stairs leading up.&nbsp; She was undeniably beautiful, and Hilda thrilled slightly as she recognized a certain family resemblance.&nbsp; Followed on the heels of the realization was a deep blush as she paid more attention to the style of dress the woman had worn.&nbsp; While the skirt of the gown was almost modest, though it clung more tightly to the hips than any Hilda had ever seen, the bodice of the dress was so low cut as to bare the back and shoulders, and the front secured by a cloth collar around the neck that pulled the fabric taut against the woman's breasts in a most immodest fashion.&nbsp; Hilda flushed, and turned her attention to the other portrait of the raven-haired woman standing beside her.&nbsp; The picture had been styled so that it was a mirror image of the first, the two women obvious sisters and perhaps even twins by their face and body-structure.<br><br>Her embarrassment grew as she noted that the second woman's dress was even more immodest than the first.&nbsp; The black gown clung to its wearer like a second skin across the butt and hips with no possibility of corset or bustle, the back cut slightly lower and held up by some magic of design that Hilda could not even guess at -- as if they had attempted to outdo each other in an attempt to shock, or so it seemed to Hilda.&nbsp; Yet there was nothing wanton or lascivious in either woman's expression as she was halfway expecting from their style of dress.&nbsp; Instead, the artist had captured expressions that were almost serene, yet in the tilt of chin and the slight curve of lips she thought both had been proud and stubborn.<br><br>The flush in her cheeks deepened as she glanced over at Kovac, wondering what he might be thinking, yet in the back of her mind the niggling wonder of what it might feel like to descend the ornately carved staircase in such a dress with the eyes of those below upon her.&nbsp; She shook her head, as if to shoo away the errant thought.<br><br>At the top of the stairs, she could see more conventional portraits of those she presumed were the ancestral Godefroys, but they were smaller and did not dominate the room the way the portraits of the twins did.<br><br><em>"They certainly dressed differently than I've seen before,"</em> she said uncertainly, her eyes lingering on the picture of the dark-haired twin with a faint sense of unease.&nbsp; &nbsp;She had thought her first act in the house would be to lower her defenses a bit in the hope of receiving some communication from any spirits trapped within, but suddenly that did not seem like a good idea.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>15-05-2013, 06:05:25</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac regarded the portrait of the two women with a thoughtful eye.&nbsp; When he looked back at Hilda, his eyes crinkled with mischief.&nbsp; “Sometimes the old ways are the best ways, no?” One corner of his mouth turned up, almost imperceptibly.&nbsp; “I’d daresay that look might flatter you, Hilda. A travesty that the people of this land now hide their most beautiful women behind high collars and whalebone.” At the inn, Kovac had merely been suggestive—about as flirtatious as he dared to be in this stodgy society.&nbsp; To flirt as openly as he was now probably would have drawn gasps from the population of Idlethorpe. He was once again quite glad to be away from that crowd. And he was quite glad that the Morninglord demanded no vows of celibacy, or eve chastity for that matter. Points in Lathander’s favor. <br><br>But beyond his japes, he felt a sense of unease that went even beyond the possibility of specters.&nbsp; It was the knowledge that he was now in the midst of aristocracy.&nbsp; And he’d grown up associating nobility with evil—in Barovia, that was not exactly incorrect. Especially not in he parts occupied by Gundarakites like Kovac . But the opulence impressed him never the less, and he felt seized by a curiosity about the rest of the manor. <br><br>One door leading out of the receiving room stood ajar, and Kovac moved to examine it.&nbsp; The doorway was dark, and so Kovac produced a nondescript coin from his pocket and breathed a short prayer over it.&nbsp; The coin began to glow like a torch, and with this makeshift light in hand, the itinerant priest went exploring. <br><br>“This must have been the ballroom,” he said to Hilda after he’d stepped&nbsp; inside.&nbsp; Unlike the receiving room, the ravages of neglect were plain here. Gathered curtains hung every few places, but their deep red had faded to an almost sickly pink, and moths had taken more than their fair share.&nbsp; Unlit chandeliers hung from the ceiling, surfaces that must have once gleamed brightly now covered in a greenish patina.&nbsp; Toward the back, there was a raised platform where the musicians would have played.&nbsp; Their instruments were still here, as if the whole band had merely stepped out for a drink.&nbsp; Getting a closer look, Kovac saw that they were covered in dust, and yet there was something strange…<br><br>“The wood, it’s like new,” he said in surprise, setting the coin down to pick up a violin. “To be left out this long should have warped the wood.&nbsp; Ruined the strings.&nbsp; But it’s so well preserved I don’t know what to think. He found the bow, and put the fiddle up to his chin. Hi fingers flexed, and he drew he bow across the strings, playing a long, ominous chord. “A perfect C minor,” he marveled, “not a hair out of tune.”&nbsp; He looked down at the violin, and suddenly looked oddly sheepish. “The monk used to make me play as a youth. Was supposed to teach discipline.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>16-05-2013, 19:01:57</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"They do look lovely ... both of them."&nbsp; </em>It surprised Hilda how easily she pictured herself in similar clothing, particularly the white dress worn by her fairer ancestress.&nbsp; Of course the pictures of the women could only be the two who had died, and she felt a wave of sadness for the lives ended when they should have just begun, and was very aware that they were said to have been scant older than she was.&nbsp; <em>"Perhaps we may have the chance to find out.&nbsp; The barrister said that their father left everything in the house other than his personal possessions when he closed it up and left.&nbsp; If the clothing is as well preserved as other things about the house, it would be a shame to see it wasted."</em><br><br>She knew his comment was quite improper, and Mrs. Darling would have immediately stepped in to tell him so in the genteelist words imaginable, but Hilda only smiled warmly at him as she made the comment, with barely even a blush to grace the words.&nbsp; He had almost called her beautiful, though the words had been indirect enough that it might be immodest to attribute it to herself.&nbsp; She did not ask for more, but simply chose to take it to mean what she found herself wishing to hear and let the words add sparkle to her spirit.<br><br>"You are a man of many talents, Kovac," she complimented as he demonstrated his arcane skills, and followed him into the ballroom.&nbsp; <em>"How strange it is that this room was not cleaned.&nbsp; Perhaps they had only time to clean the rooms they thought we would need most at first."</em><br><br>She herself had never learned to play an instrument, though she enjoyed singing and had been told that her voice was quite pretty - an estimation that she had taken to mean passable but certainly not suited for performance before any sort of crowd.&nbsp; &nbsp;She smiled and nodded as Kovac revealed that he could play, inclining her head in a pleased 'I told you so' motion in reference to her earlier judgement.&nbsp; <br><br><em>"If it would please you ... keep the instrument.&nbsp; I would love to hear you play, and these sad halls have been silent too long.&nbsp; I owe you a debt of gratitude for taking up this task when all the men of Idlethorp stoppered their ears with their fingers rather than even hear of it.&nbsp; It is a lovely thing, and should be put to use and appreciated."</em><br><br>She could imagine that the room once had been quite elegant.&nbsp; There was no damage that she could see, and a good cleaning would restore much of the magnificence, but the drapings were damaged beyond salvaging and would have to be discarded, or preferably burned.&nbsp; For some reason, even looking at the molded and moth-eaten fabric filled her with such distaste that she found herself drawing her skirts more closely about her legs to prevent contamination.<br><br><em>"Perhaps we should see to the kitchen and then the bedrooms?&nbsp; We will need to be able to prepare food, and a place to sleep would be welcome before dark - though if they are as filthy as this, we might be better off sleeping in the entryway and taking our meals over a campfire at least for the first few days."</em><br><br>As if to add support to her conjecture that the clean rooms were the result of perfectly normal efforts on the part of the barrister and those he had hired, the kitchen too was almost immaculate, though a tea service was laid out on a tray near the large compartmentalized cast iron stove and there were several long, sharp knives left out in odd places along the counter.&nbsp; <em>"Well ... that is unusual.&nbsp; The cleaners must not have finished for some reason.&nbsp; No matter, but perhaps I should put the knives away." </em> She opened a couple of likely drawers before finding the correct one, and placed the knives inside with the others.<br><br>When she finished, she noticed a smear of greyish-green powder on the gloves she was still wearing to protect her hands from damage while driving the cart. It did not seem to be dust, but rather some residue from the knives.&nbsp; <em>"One more reason to give anything we use a good washing first.&nbsp; Shall we go upstairs and see what the bedrooms are like?"</em>&nbsp; She displayed her smeared glove for Kovac's inspection before peeling the gloves from her fingertips with a small frown.<br><br>Though Hilda herself hadn't been brought up in luxury, she seemed completely un-awed by the magnificence of the house and its excesses ... and nor did she notice any discomfort on Kovac's part.&nbsp; She simply accepted it, and no intuition or guiding spirit made itself known to point out the strangeness of how easily she moved through the hallways, as if she was accustomed to such things and accepted them in due course.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>21-05-2013, 05:41:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was with some effort that Kovac managed to keep a not-so-coy smile from his face at the concept of getting Hilda in such lurid attire. He sensed a certain sadness in her, and he was suddenly reminded that this was no simple exorcism of spirits or ghoul-hunt. He had to remind himself that Hilda may have blood-ties to any spirits who dwelt here. But till, he thought of Hilda in such a dress, or better yet in none at all, made h corner of his eyes crinkle. <br><br>“Perhaps you are right,” he told her as they examined the neglected ballroom.&nbsp; “I have known more than a few legal types in my day, and I’d not put any laziness past them.”&nbsp; But something still sat unwell with him. He sensed a trap of some sort, though set by who and for whom he did not know.&nbsp; Then again, he’d never known the undead to be so welcoming or so haphazard. Or maybe he only saw things as haphazard. <br><br>He reigned in such speculation. He could let it drive him mad if he’d let it, but he knew he’d have to wait for some sign of the spectres’ true intent before making any rash judgments.&nbsp; And that included the violin.&nbsp; “Calling my skills at the violin a ‘talent’ is generous.&nbsp; Still, when this is over, Hilda, perhaps I will take it with me a souvenir. For now, I think I’ll let it lie.&nbsp; They may be fine instruments, but why are they not touched by the rest of this decay?&nbsp; It may well be we’ll get a chance to see them played while we’re here.” <br><br>“And frankly, I’m looking forward to it,” he added.&nbsp; “The living dead I’ve dealt with have always been so visceral, so animal in their natures.&nbsp; The ghoul who wishes only to eat, the weight who wishes only to hunt.&nbsp; They are unnatural, but they are thoroughly in this world. But these spirits…if they are here, what strange knowledge will they have? Will they be all spirit, raised above the concerns of the flesh? Or would they be jealous of the living, hateful that we can feel what they cannot?”&nbsp; <br><br>“But now is not the hour to be existential. The kitchen it is.”&nbsp; He’d half-expected it to be filled with dust and decay, and yet the pristine condition had its own pall of strangeness to it.&nbsp; He looked at the long, sharp knives, and he felt a sudden, inexplicable need to test heir edge with his fingertip.&nbsp; But the grey-green powder made him thankful for a rare show of restraint that kept him from doing just that. Was it a poisoned dagger? Or had it been used to chop up some poisonous herb or mushroom? “It doesn’t look like rust to me, Hilda.&nbsp; I’ve no idea what it is, but in my professional opinion, I’d say don’t put it in your mouth.<br><br>His expression perked up when she mentioned the bedroom. “That, my dear, is the best idea I’ve heard in a long string of good ideas today.&nbsp; Let’s to the boudoir, as the Dementlieuse say.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>21-05-2013, 20:14:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Most of her experience with the undead - in fact, truly all of it that she could remember - was with spirits and specters and the like.&nbsp; Some of them could be truly terrifying and manifest the horror that trapped them on the edges of this life in disgusting and pitable forms but though she had read about creatures such as Kovac described in books such as those penned by Dr. van Richten and other writings, she had never seen them and was torn between fascination and dismay.&nbsp; As they ascended the staircase, she paused and placed a hand on Kovac's arm. <em> "These undead you have seen sound terrible to behold.&nbsp; The mayor and townsfolk of Idlethorpe did not mention such things in this area, only hauntings.&nbsp; &nbsp;Are there precautions we should make?&nbsp; I did not see it when we arrived, but the stories mention that those who died here in the tragedy were laid to rest before my relative left in what I had assumed was a family tomb or graveyard.&nbsp; Are there precautions we should take?"</em><br><br>She was more than willing to accept his guidance in matters beyond her knowledge, and hoped that he would do so for her if whatever spirits lingered here could be peacefully released from their ties to earthly pain.&nbsp; She went on to answer his questions asked earlier as they walked. <em> "There is no way that I know to predict the kinds of spirits we may encounter here.&nbsp; We cannot assume that they will be, as you said, raised above concerns of the flesh.&nbsp; Spirits of those who possessed great will in their lifetime can manifest physical form - indeed, I have witnessed a spirit who appeared as substantial as you and still others with no presence to the eyes but who could make their touch felt both to comfort and console as well as to hurt.&nbsp; It all depends, I think, on what they were in life and how grievously their angers or injustices dwell upon their souls."</em><br><br>As Kovac climbed the stairs, the eyes of the dark haired twin's portrait seemed to follow him, her unsmiling yet sensual lips appearing to hold the trace of a promising smile, no doubt from some trick of the light or imperfection in the canvas or layering of the paint.&nbsp; Hilda continued to conjecture, unaware.<br><br>At the head of the stairs, Hilda opened the first room to display a light and airy room that appeared as ready to receive visitors as the entryway had been.&nbsp; The furniture was somewhat old-fashioned based on current thinking, but the wood of the four poster bed was of a lovely light wood with an intricate carving of flowers and vines, and the rest of the furniture was of the same design that represented weeks of painstaking work by a skilled craftsman.&nbsp; The walls were papered in a periwinkle blue fleur-de-lis design and the drapings upon the bed were gauzy white that matched the drapes and let in the sunlight that filtered through the old oak tree outside, with one of its branches reaching out temptingly toward the unshuttered window. <em> "How lovely!"</em> Hilda exclaimed.&nbsp; <em>"And clean.&nbsp; A fortunate circumstance."</em><br><br>Leaving the door ajar, she took two steps across the hall to the next room and opened it as well.&nbsp; Where the first room had been airy and light like a spring meadow, the next room more reflected the sultry heat of summer.&nbsp; The furnishings were closely matched save for the color and the carvings, as if to reflect the nature of the two women that had occupied them.&nbsp; The wood of this room was of dark veined walnut, smoothed and polished into a rather severe style, save for the posters of the bed.&nbsp; These had been shaped into bas relief carvings of men and women whose bare forms seemed draped in clothing sheer enough to emphasize the shapes of their bodies rather than conceal.&nbsp; Each poster was carved with a single figure, with those of the fairer sex occupying the northeast and southwest positions.&nbsp; The drapes and decorations in this room, too, were similarly arranged but predominantly black to contrast against the red of the walls.&nbsp; This room, too, was neat and tidy as if its occupant had no more than stepped away. <br><br>The rest of the rooms on the floor were locked, though Hilda sorted through the keys until she had opened each one - and though tidy, they all showed the progress of the years and no attempt had been made to clean them.<br><br><em>"Well, at least they cleaned two of the rooms," </em>Hilda said with a sigh as she closed the final door.&nbsp; <em>"Which would you prefer?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>29-05-2013, 06:32:12</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;“They are quite terrible, the walking dead,” he said, “at first.&nbsp; In some ways it’s their best weapon. But they can be returned to the earth.”&nbsp; He did not continue the rest of his thought, did not say that he was much less sue about incorporeal spirits.&nbsp; He was confident in his own power, confident in his god’s path, but in too many ways he was traveling blind here. And perhaps hat was part of the thrill. <br><br>“We should find the graves, you are right. See that they were properly laid to rest, and that nobody has disturbed their slumber since.” He’d have to dredge up some of Ezra’s prayers from memory. Doubtless the deceased prayed to the goddess who seemed to hold so much sway in these lands.&nbsp; Lathander would turn a blind eye to the theological indiscretion of Kovac praying to a different god. Or at least, the Morniglord hadn’t made a peep when he’d done it before. <br><br>But that was more or less the extent of his knowledge on the topic, and he listened intently to Hilda as she explained what she knew.&nbsp; Much of it was new to him.&nbsp; He’d heard tales of spirits who could indirectly affect the physical world, but not that they could take on a physical form of their own.&nbsp; It occurred to him that if one of those spirits were from the painting, he might not mind so much.&nbsp; But he quickly put such thoughts out of his skull. It wasn’t some ghost he’d come here to seduce, after all. <br><br>He did not see the portrait’s gaze move toward him, but at the top of the stairs, for only an instant, he saw his red-haired stranger. She wasn’t grinning, and she didn’t look alarmed as she had the last tie he’d seen her, but instead she seemed to be concentrating on something vey intently, he fingers pressed to her temples. She was there for only an instant.&nbsp; Part of Kovac wanted to tell Hilda, surely she’d have some interpretation.&nbsp; But he was still not eager to share that problem, even if he didn’t know what the problem was. Perhaps especially since he didn’t know. <br><br>By the time they entered the first bedroom, Kovac felt his sense of trepidation beginning to wane.&nbsp; “Lovely is indeed the word for it,” Kovac agreed.&nbsp; And clean, as she said.&nbsp; He peered at the fleur-de-lis.&nbsp; “A design from Dementlieu, yes? Your ancestors had a taste for high fashion. I confess, it’s hard to think of this room as haunted. “ <br><br>The second bedroom was closer to what he’d been expecting.&nbsp; He walked to the bed and traced a finger along the edge of the figure carved into the southwest corner.&nbsp; “This is the sort of fashion I can appreciate.&nbsp; Was this the dark-haired sister’s room?&nbsp; I’ve heard more than a few Mordentish ballads where the dark-haired sister is the wicked one, plotting against the fair sister. Of course, in my country, we are all dark of hair. So we are all scoundrels.” The last line was delivered deadpan, not a hint of a grin cracking his swarthy features. <br><br>When they had finished searching the mansion, he told her, “I think I’d prefer the second bedroom, it seems more to my style.”&nbsp; Of course, if he had his way they’d do away with this talk of separate beds, but for once, Kovac managed to marshal his patience. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>30-05-2013, 23:39:43</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"It's not like anything I've seen, so I'm sure you're right,"</em> Hilda acknowledged with an almost dreamy little smile as she surveyed the papered walls.&nbsp; She hadn't, she was sure, but all the same there was a familiar feel to everything as if knowledge of such a room had come to her from the description in a book or perhaps a dream.&nbsp; She was relieved when Kovac seemed to like the darker room.&nbsp; It was lovely, but the carvings on the bedposts and the bright colors made her feel ... funny. <br><br><em>"Nonsense.&nbsp; That's just an allegorical device that has nothing to do with how things are in the real world ... though I wouldn't be surprised to learn that there's at least a little bit of scoundrel in you, you are a <strong>good</strong> man.&nbsp; And this room shall be yours, then."</em>&nbsp; Hilda scolded him easily for his jest, though she hadn't meant to say the first part of her assessment.&nbsp; Am I actually flirting with him? she wondered, a little surprised at her own boldness.&nbsp; She'd watched other women do it, and marveled and envied their easy manner, but there'd been little opportunity to practice under the Darlings watchful supervision.&nbsp; She searched Kovac's face a little anxiously to guage how he'd received the remark, but didn't attempt to detract from it.&nbsp; She liked the little feeling of excitement it had given her to speak her thoughts without tempering them for fear of being misinterpreted.<br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">"A good man is hard to find, and a hard man is good to find."&nbsp; </span></span>She heard the whisper of a voice speaking softly to her as if to her ear, and a wave of heat like the blast of warmth escaping a newly opened door into winter's frigid embrace enveloped her so thoroughly that she could feel it worming its way beneath her skirts and the loose armbands of her dress.&nbsp; It was followed by a pleased, self satisfied chuckle that left her instinctively wanting to box the ears of whoever had uttered it, and she quickly turned to see if Kovac had heard it.<br><br>The voice had been audible to them both, though muffled as if the speaker had been talking with a hand partially covering her lips.&nbsp; The voice was feminine, though a bit deeper in pitch than average, husky and sensual and filled with both assurance and satisfaction.&nbsp; Never before had Hilda experienced so strong an initial manifestation without having called it forth, and it startled her, though she was careful not to show it.<br><br><em>"Who are you?&nbsp; What is it you wish from us?" </em>Hilda asked, her tone firm and unfraid as if she were speaking to an unruly child or impertinent servant as she moved forward a step to see if the emanation of heat moved with her.&nbsp; It did not, but dissipated instead, and there was no answer.&nbsp; Hilda's heart beat rapidly in her chest, and she took a moment to focus and calm herself before she gave a little shrug and smiled apologetically at Kovac.<br><br><em>"Perhaps then we should bring our things up from the wagon, and then search for the cemetery while the sun still shines?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>05-06-2013, 05:41:31</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac heard the disembodied voice as well, though his instinct was to stifle a laugh, not shudder.&nbsp; “Wit from a spectre?” This was new to him, new and altogether strange. And yet he felt no fear. If anything, the voice sounded almost…enticing.&nbsp; And something seemed to have affected Hilda as well, though Kovac could not put it into words. But for a split second, the look he gave her was utterly devoid of honorable intent. <br>“Yes, yes let’s gather our belongings,” he said, half-relieved, half-frustrated that his unbidden thoughts on the woman before him were interrupted by practical work. Kovac made quick work of that task one the less, and soon the two went in search of a cemetery. Outside, there were a few marked graves, but these proved to be the burial places of beloved animals—faithful steeds, trusty hounds, a handful of cats, and even a hawk that one “Crispin Godefroy” had trained to hunt, according to the marker In the shape of the bird. “A better grave than some men have. But where are the Godefroy’s buried? Perhaps a crypt under the manor?” <br><br>A search of the manor soon turned up a heavy oaken door and a staircase of well-worn granite leading down into the darkness. He descended the stairs that led to the family crypt, ad using the ensorcelled coin for illumination, stepped into the final resting place of the Godefroy family. <br><br>Kovac had expected a crypt similar to those I his homeland, where the bones of the dead lay exposed in niches caved along the walls. He’d expected to see skulls sitting atop piles of bones, no regard given to their original owner. He expected the smell of must, the hint of decay that never truly leaves a body even after the bones are picked clean. Instead, he found a large room walls made of marble, and neat little square vaults for each occupant, their names carved upon the blocks that separated Kovac and Hilda from the remains. <br><br>“Now –this- is a crypt.” Kovac’s voice carried a sliver of wry humor. “Very clean. Very modern. Very very removed from the very idea of death. I’d be hard pressed to find a rat here.” He swept his light source around, revealing row after row of names and dates. “Nothing –appears- disturbed here. Normally when a grave has been violated it is easy to tell. Rubble from broken sarcophagi, scattered bones. But if Stanford House truly is haunted, I don’t think it’s an improper burial.”<br><br>“Hello…” his light fell on a pair of names on one wall. Almost all the other vaults had been sealed with the same grey marble that lined the walls, but these two stood out amongst the departed.&nbsp; One was alabaster, and in thinly-hammered gold the name read: Alys Godefroy. Immediately to the left of that vault was one sealed with black onyx streaked in red bands. The silver writing proclaimed the occupant to be Lene Godefroy.&nbsp; “Well, I believe we have found our twins.”&nbsp; He looked at the dates of their death. “Too damned young to die. Both on the same day as well.&nbsp; Ill-fortune indeed. And yet…nothing seems amiss. All I see is that they stand out from jut about every other tomb here.”&nbsp; He waved the light about the crypt for emphasis, then something caught his eye near the entrance, a tomb that wasn’t quite like the others either. But this was more subtle, and he couldn’t put his finger on it, so he went to take a closer look. <br><br>There was no date of birth on the face of this tomb, only the date of death, which was the same as Alys and Lene’s. And there was no proper name on this vault, merely “The Visitor.” <br><br>“How curious,” Kovac said, then turned to Hilda with a raised eyebrow. “Three dead on the same day, and one of them a stranger? There is even more to this house than we thought.” <br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>06-06-2013, 18:43:47</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"Tis better than curses, I suppose," </em>Hilda agreed, though it had unnerved her nonetheless.&nbsp; She turned this way and that, attempting to get some sense of the spirit that had spoken, but caught only the glimpse of Kovac's momentary expression which had vanished even before the wave of heat it inspired flashed through her body, leaving goosebumps on her arms in its wake.&nbsp; Perhaps she had imagined it, or it had been inspired by the room's odd furnishings which were certainly lacking in either humility or modesty.&nbsp; &nbsp;The thought that it had been her imagination, however, brought with it a sense of disappointment that left her addled and confused ... and still rather warm.&nbsp; <br><br>She accepted his agreement with relief, and gathered her things which she took to the room she would be occupying, asking for his help only with the trunk that contained, among other things, some of the tools she used for her work with the spirits.&nbsp; &nbsp;As she hefted her end of it from the back of the cart, she heard a small snort ... which she decided must have come from one of the horses, though she knew better in her heart of hearts.&nbsp; &nbsp;She did not linger to unpack, though the room called to her with its soothing and unthreatening lines and colors, but hurried down to begin the search with Kovac.<br><br>Hilda shook her head at graves they found, torn between being touched by the evidence of love her ancestors had had for their animals and being aghast at the expense and labor involved.&nbsp; She had never had a pet, and in truth had never really felt the lack, but amongst these memorials she resolved that here she would have one - a cat, perhaps, or a dog - as soon as it could be arranged after they delt with the haunting.<br><br>Below the house, she was relieved to find the family crypt undisturbed, though she would have much preferred that her ancestors had been the sort to bury their dead at a respectable and honorable distance from their dwelling.&nbsp; But as Kovac had said, it was hard to feel too morbid when all one was confronted with was polished marble and artistic plaques.&nbsp; <em>"I suppose it makes sense - additional protection for the bodies of the deceased against tampering.&nbsp; But yes, according to the stories I heard in Idlethorpe, the two girls did die at the same time - at dinner, of all things, and with them several eligible young men from the surrounding area meeting the same fate at the table.&nbsp; If my father's relative hadn't been called away on business, he would have certainly joined them ... and perhaps my parents would never have been on the road to an early death." </em> She spent a few moments pondering how easily the course of a life can be changed, then walked over to examine the visitor's grave a bit more closely.<br><br><em>"I wonder if we shall discover who he is?&nbsp; &nbsp;It seems to me that this may be the very heart of the mystery, though perhaps I am too quick to suspect a stranger.&nbsp; The townsfolk seem to believe that the stranger was some .... malign being ... that led them to their doom, but perhaps he was simply a traveler like yourself, unknown in the area so that his family never knew what had become of him?&nbsp; Wanting a loved one to learn the truth of a disappearance is sometimes enough to make a spirit unquiet."</em><br><br>The tombs of the two girls were lavishly and expensively decorated.&nbsp; By all accounts, their father must have loved them very much, so much so that he had left his home rather than remain in the veritable mansion where they had died.&nbsp; Or had it been guilt, that he had left them unprotected while pursuing his business ventures.&nbsp; She reached out and stroked the gold lettering, wondering what might have become of its occupant had she been allowed to experience the fullness of life.&nbsp; Try as she might, though, she could not conjure up any vision of either of the woman save in the lushness of youth as they appeared in the portraits, vibrant with life and assured of their place in it.<br><br><em>"Kovac ... would you mind?" </em>she asked softly, looking up at him expectantly.&nbsp; <em>"Though this place has not been disturbed, perhaps your prayers would comfort any that might yet linger."</em><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>11-06-2013, 04:48:04</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				“Both died when their father was away? Passing strange, that. A suspicious man might think the patriarch had something to do with it. But who can say what happened so long ago?&nbsp; Perhaps the two sisters murdered each other over a quarrel with this one,” he said, pointing at the stranger’s tomb. <br><br>“Whatever the case, it’s safe to say we’re not alone. You heard that voice as well as I did. But it is strange to me. I am unused to undead who make themselves known but do not attack.&nbsp; Yet you act as if you’ve seen such things before.” He gave her an appraising glance, one that held more respect than lust, though that was far from absent in his smoldering gaze. <br><br>“But you are right,” he said, turning away suddenly. “A prayer might help put these souls on the right path.”&nbsp; He paused for a moment, trying to think of an appropriate invocation. There were so many damned splinters to the Ezran faith, so Kovac went with what he knew of the Mordentish worshipers. <br><br>“Oh Ezra, mother of the Alabaster Shield, watch over these, your fallen children.&nbsp; Protect them with the sword at your belt, watch over them from where you dwell in The Mists.&nbsp; Though these people may be far from us in time, we ask that you show your mercy upon these souls, of those of House Godefroy, and for those souls that lie here yet unknown.&nbsp; Let these Pure Hearts know the full measure of your love and understanding. So let it be.” <br><br>Kovac then bowed his head and muttered another prayer in Luktar, this one to the Morninglord. In the language of his homeland, he said, “Lathander, if they must be troublesome, at least make them interesting.” <br><br>“Now that done,” he said, heading toward the stairwell that led to the upper chambers.&nbsp; “Let’s try to make ourselves at home, shall we?&nbsp; There’s plenty of wood for the fires, and mayhaps I have a bottle or three to keep us company during our stay.&nbsp; It would be a right shame to make me drink it alone. I’d feel like a sot. But,” he said with a sly look as he stepped back onto the ground floor.&nbsp; “With somebody to help pass the time and pass the bottle, it’s a bit more seemly. Won’t you join me?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 02:17:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"I suppose that's possible," </em>Hilda said, though her tone suggested how repugnant she found the very thought.&nbsp; She had spent much of her younger years wondering about who she was and what her family had been like.&nbsp; Certainly she had not entertained the notion that they were saints and she'd even told herself stories about villany in their midst that had resulted in her being fostered, but even so something in her wanted to vehemently protest the suggestion.&nbsp; She warned herself against allowing her own desires color the truth.&nbsp; Some scholars opined that the words uttered by the spirits of the dead were without falsehood, but Hilda knew that to be a lie from her own experience.&nbsp; The spirits of the dead lied ... sometimes even to themselves. <br><br><em>"No, it seems that the people of Idlethorpe were correct.&nbsp; The house is the site of a haunting.&nbsp; What that means for us is yet to be decided." </em> Hilda flushed a little under Kovac's gaze, but something inside her warmed all the same.&nbsp; She came to stand beside him as he began his prayer and bowed her head.&nbsp; She hoped to feel some sense of spiritual comfort, if not for herself, then for the unquiet dead that lingered, but it did not come.&nbsp; The words were only words, with no accompanying sense of peace.<br><br>Her eyes opened and she shot Kovac a quizzical look when he spoke words that she did not recognize, but she did not pry.&nbsp; Perhaps later, she would ask him what he had said, and he would answer if it pleased him and she would accept it if he did not.&nbsp; The relationship between the individual and the gods, or so it seemed to her, was a deeply private thing and only meaningful for another when they were invited.<br><br>She was nonetheless inclined to linger in the crypt no more than he had been.&nbsp; Whatever the circumstances that led to the spirits unquiet rest, she did not think it would be found here.&nbsp; Only at great need would she suggest that the tombs be invaded, and as a last resort.&nbsp; Contrary to what some believed, Hilda held that the destruction of the remains was of little use at best and dangerous at worst if the circumstances of the haunting had not been discovered.&nbsp; &nbsp; Her steps were eager and quick as she followed Kovac.<br><br><em>"I would be delighted to provide company, and there is enough food in the basket from the inn that we should be well prepared for the night if you would be content with a cold repast - though tomorrow I should attempt to learn the workings of the stove in the kitchen." </em> In truth, it was probably best that they not separate until they had more of an idea of the nature of the spirit, or spirits, haunting the house.<br><em><br>"Kovac, you said that you had not much experience with the incorporeal undead.&nbsp; I would caution you to question anything you see that seems out of place.&nbsp; Many spirits seem invested with the ability to bring scenes and items from their lives into this world - usually these things are innocent communications, but they can also conceal dangers if the spirit is unfriendly.&nbsp; I would not wish to see you injured."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>18-06-2013, 05:28:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Well then,” he replied with undisguised delight when she took him up on his offer, “Let’s make ourselves comfortable. If today has been any indication, we may be here for a bit.” With that, he headed for the stables to fetch his back, motioning for her to join him. As they walked, he listened to her suggestions with clear attention. Kovac may have had the years on her, but he wasn’t so proud as to pretend to be the expert in this matter. <br><br>“You’re right, in many ways this is new ground for me. But I will keep my eyes open, even more so than usual, because this I all unusual to me. And to me, the very state of this place seems odd. I don’t know your friend the barrister or any of the clerks who work for him, but I don’t see them having taken the time prepare this place for our welcome. If they feared it haunted—and rightly so—would they have stayed long enough to clean so much of the mansion for us? Would they have even stayed long enough to bring hay for the horses?” He shook his head, and his brow creased as he through through what they had seen so far. “Whatever’s In this house, I think it wants us to feel…welcome.” <br>He gave her a tight smile and an arched eyebrow, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was saying. “Ghouls and wights tend for the direct approach. See flesh, eat flesh. This is altogether more subtle. And yet…you didn’t seem afraid when the spirit spoke. Do you think these creatures might be benevolent?<br><br>Now he truly looked skeptical. “What would benevolence even mean to a spirit? What is left of man when the body is gone? Are they pure thought? My faith says it must be this way, that the soul will live again. But what is the mind like when divorced from the body? Would they be all ideals and high mindedness? Without the sensations of the flesh, do they think on a higher plane than us? Or does the lack of a body twist them into hatred? Do they year to feel the coolness of a river or the warmth of a lover? And what would it do to them if they couldn’t?” <br>He pursed his lips, as if he were somewhere distant.” Forgive me. “That’s the sort of conversation I should save until after I find this bottle. Ah!” He produced a bottle whose faded label written in Darkonese. <br><br>“They call it Blackvine. A monk at the University of Il Aluk grew the grapes himself just outside of the city. This was one of the last vintages he pressed before that tragic city met its fate. I’d been saving it for a special occasion, and this seems to fit the bill.”<br><br>“Now as I see it,” he told her with that sly smile of his, “let’s get the fire lit, this bottle open, and see if our phantoms entertain us with more bawdy jokes.” <br><br>But Hilda’s warning was not far from his mind, and he kept a wary eye around the manor even as he pulled the cork from the bottle. “So what do you think? Do the spirits think and feel as we do? And how much can they influence the living?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>19-06-2013, 22:46:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"I hope your suspicions are unfounded," </em>Hilda answered slowly, having been mulling over Kovac's words as they fetched their things and moved them into the rooms they had decided on, then retreated to the most hospitable of the open rooms downstairs, accompanied by the basket of food that the inn had put up for them and Kovac's wine.&nbsp; She sat upon the beautifully carved and upholstered settee nearest the fireplace, both because the presence of a low table would come in handy for the glasses and the food and because it offered a view of the garden through glass panes as clear and unblemished as she had ever seen windows once the shutters were pushed away.<br><br>Such casual treatment of their surroundings seemed slightly scandalous, given the richness of the furniture, but to stand on ceremony seemed as needlessly stuffy as the innkeeper had been back in Idlethorpe.<br><br><em>"If the spirits can affect the passage of time and the flow of the air over such a large area, that would be an act suggesting considerable power." </em> Hilda bit her lip thoughtfully as she considered.&nbsp; <em>"Or interference from some outside source.&nbsp; It is hard to think it of two hardly more than my own age.&nbsp; Though I cannot say the barrister is a friend.&nbsp; He was nice enough, but seemed to regard the whole thing as duty to be dispensed with."<br></em><br>She realized as she spoke that her own estimation of the barrister was chipping away at the explanation she wished to believe, and gave a deep sigh. <em> "I think you are right.&nbsp; I have felt no hostility to our presence.&nbsp; I would learn more if I open myself to the spirits, though doing so without more investigation is not without danger."</em><br><br>She listened with delight as her adventuring companion postulated upon the nature of spirits.&nbsp; <em>"Perhaps the spirits that have left their life behind are truly as you speak.&nbsp; Perhaps they merely wish the secret of their death be known, or to undertake vengeance on those who wronged them in life.&nbsp; Some spirits watch over that which they have loved, but others ... others know only rage and pain from their passing or old wrongs and betrayals."</em><br><br>She was ready enough to leave such musings aside, and instead studied the bottle that Kovac produced.&nbsp; The fate of Il Aluk had been written of in some of the Darling's prized books, and it seemed a marvel to her that something from that place had come so far, and that it had been brought into her presence.&nbsp; <em>"I am honored, and very glad, that you have chosen to share it with me."</em><br><br>Before Hilda could answer more as to his inquiries about spirits, the wood laid in the grate made a soft *whoosh* sort of sound, and a blaze sprung to life shortly after the pop of the bottle's cork, and the scent of fermented grape mingled with the scent of green pine and cherrywood smoke.&nbsp; Hilda sat still, her hands folded in her lap as she waited expectantly for something more, but there was nothing but the slight crackling sound as resin from the wood heated to crackle and sizzle on the warming grate.<br><br><em>"Unless the heat from the fireplace is illusion, I think you have much of your answer, Kovac. We should be wary, but keep an open mind.&nbsp; Whatever is here ... wishes to be heard."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>24-06-2013, 07:13:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When Hilda threw opened the shutters, Kovac found himself admiring the view outside long enough to take his eyes for a time away from his impromptu dining companion. “It is a lovely estate. I can see why you’d want to fight to uphold your claim.” He’d once read that garden were where nature and culture met, and this place certainly throbbed with a certain cultured wildness that was unlike the grisly sort of haunts Kovac had grown used to. And though he knew to be on his guard, he couldn’t help but enjoy himself.&nbsp; It certainly wouldn’t the bite first time he’d taken a glass of wine with a loaded pistol at his hip and a prayer ready on his lips. <br><br>But of course Hilda had thus far proven correct. “Not hostile, no.&nbsp; But I’m not ruling out a trap. Time is one thing our hosts have in abundance. And I agree, we need to investigate more before we try contacting the spirits directly. And in the morning, when I meditate upon The Morninglord, I can prepare spells to shield you from those who’d wish you harm, and to ward you against the fell energies of the negative material plane. Until then…” <br><br>As if on cue, the fireplace took light of its own accord. “Until then, I’ve had worse hosts.&nbsp; He took a pair of glasses from the mantle, noting how clean they seemed despite decade of neglect, and poured the wine. “The honor is mind, Hilda. I’d not reckoned to find someone who’d truly appreciate this vintage’s pedigree.&nbsp; At least, not under such pleasant circumstances. I’ve traveled with it for some time; I’d begun to think I’d break it before I had he chance to share it. For once, I’m happy to be proven wrong.” His teeth were very white as he grinned. <br><br>He poured two glasses, then stopped, the scent from the flames catching him. “Pine,” he said, something in his voice running below the rather obvious statement.&nbsp; “There was a tavern in the mountains, back in Gundarak.” He still used the old name, even though there’d been no Gundarakite nation in close to a score of years. “They always burned pine.&nbsp; I hated the smell of it at the time, too thick, too acrid.&nbsp; But now, it reminds me of home.&nbsp; Or part of it, anyway.” A slight chuckle “The part my instructors would have hided me for if they’d have known.” <br><br>He handed her a full glass, then raised his own. “To all the things we never should have gotten away with.” He took a long sip, then nodded appreciatively.&nbsp; <br><br>“Speaking of, I’m curious, Hilda. How are you finding life without the Darlings?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>25-06-2013, 19:52:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Despite some chafing at time being wasted, Hilda didn't protest Kovac's recommendation that they leave off such things until the morning.&nbsp; By then, they would likely have a better idea of what they were dealing with and not probing like a blind physician too impatient to learn where the scars and wounds were on his patient before wielding the scalpel.&nbsp; She was here now, and had no intention of being driven away before she had fulfilled the terms of her inheritance.&nbsp; Time no longer flowed so steadily against her, and she could measure bold action against the advisability of caution.<br><br><em>"Again we are in agreement.&nbsp; Your Morninglord must look well upon our endeavor to have led you to me at the time of my greatest need." </em> She hesitated for a moment, her ankles crossed primly and correctly under her skirt and her back straight before shrugging and leaning back against the comfortable cushions.&nbsp; She even went so far as to leave her slippers pushed discreetly beneath the divan's edge, and drew her feet up under her in an unladylike, if not truly immodest, position as she settled in.&nbsp; Her face colored a bit, but her lower lip pushed out in a bit of defiance tinged with humor.&nbsp; How silly the stuffy conventions of her foster parents and the people of Idlethorpe who locked themselves behind their thresholds at dusk seemed here, and she had no thought that her companion would think less of her for getting comfortable.<br><br>The fire's warmth was pleasant, and it did not take long for it to drive the chill from the air as she accepted the wine and sipped at it hesitantly.&nbsp; The flavor was rich and smooth and sweet to her tongue, not at all like the dry and slightly acrid drink the Darlings served to guests.&nbsp; She had always been allowed a small glass before seances, but the flavor of it so prickled at her mouth that she rarely finished more than half.&nbsp; <br><br><em>"And to all the things we will get away with in the future," </em>she added to Kovac's toast, unaware of how easily the words slipped from her lips.&nbsp; Where they had come from, she had no idea, but she had no real desire to recall them or apologize.&nbsp; In this setting, they seemed perfectly right and perfectly natural, and she finished off a full half of the glass before attending to his question.<br><br><em>"I suppose it is ungenerous of me, but I find it all a great adventure.&nbsp; I had thought I would be lost without them to guide me, but I think I have met the challenges of travel without giving too bad an account of myself.&nbsp; And in Idlethorpe, I did not let either the mayor's nor the innkeeper's cautions and misdirections discourage me into giving up.&nbsp; &nbsp;Of course, it will be good to have them nearby and to be able to repay some of their kindnesses, but I am not sure I wish to return to the nest proper." </em> Hilda spoke musingly, admitting to herself that her confidence had grown in leaps and bounds since being on her own.&nbsp; Was that not the mark of parents having successfully raised a child?"<br><br>Again, Hilda gave no thought to how quickly and how strongly that thought had grown.&nbsp; Even though she softened the announcements of her plans with uncertainty, she now knew that her initial plans to bring the Darlings here and use the house and its proceeds to set up the foundation they had long dreamed of were not precisely what she wished to do anymore, though of course she would see that they were generously looked after.&nbsp; What she did want to do was not yet certain, but with Kovac's help she felt sure she would figure it out.<br><br>Hilda also gave no thought to how easily she had incorporated her newly acquired protector in those hazy thoughts of a future, or that he might have other plans that didn't coincide with her own.&nbsp; As the warmth from the fire settled around her and her toes curled into the rich cushions beneath her, the future seemed to have rolled out before her on a lush red carpet, hers for the taking.&nbsp; It felt ... <em>delightful </em>and just a bit heady.&nbsp; Or perhaps it was just the wine.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>28-06-2013, 06:58:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“May the future be so bright,” Kovac said, in response to her toast, a wisp of a smile playing across his full lips. He took a long drink from the wine, savoring how it played across his palate. Some claimed the wine’s quality was due to the terrible curse surrounding Il-Aluk, and that the same fell magic that slew all life within the city also prevented the vintages from spoiling in the bottle. Whatever the case, it had proved exactly what Kovac had needed to refresh himself. He pulled off his boots and set them by the fire before returning to a place near Hilda. <br>“You’re right; there must be a time when you strike out on your own, and you seem none the worse for wear because of it. The monks…well they had me on a leash, but not so short of one that I’d choke. The let me figure out my own mistakes, they let me define my own mistakes. I won’t forget that.” <br><br>It had been quite some time since he’d told anybody about his experiences growing up in the faith, but he felt comfortable sharing those details with the woman at his side. He could almost swear he were merely settling down for a fine night with a beautiful companion. <br>Of course, if Kovac were a vengeful spirit, he’d probably want his prey to be relaxed as well. And though Hilda seemed more at ease, and more in her element, he still thought it wise to keep his guard up. But the longer he sad there with Hilda, the less he desired to do the strictly wise thing. <br><br>Kovac had lived long enough to have some sense of his flaws, but foolishness wasn’t often among them. Of course, what fool is wise enough to admit it? But time and again, Kovac’s wits had gotten him out of tight situations.&nbsp; He wasn’t one to be conned, or caught in a ruse.&nbsp; But all the wits and all the cunning in the world matter little when faced with a beautiful woman, a bottle of good wine, and the exhilaration of this strange, new kind of encounter with the unliving, well, perhaps Kovac was more foolish about some things than the others. <br><br>But damn wisdom, Kovac thought. He gave Hilda a sidelong glance, wondering what words to say before deciding that the time for words had come and gone for now. Instead, he moved to face her, shifting with the natural grace that his life had so often depended on. His hand reached out to brush away a stray lock of her hair, then he touched her cheek, his touh soft but his fingertips calloused from years of rough work. He leaned in, and tilting his head slightly pressed his lips to hers.&nbsp; There was no yield in his kiss, but neither did he force it. The sensation sent a chill down Kovac's spine, and the he felt flushed with heat. <br><br>He broke the kiss before letting it linger too long, and pulled his head back, keeping his eyes locked on hers.&nbsp; In his homeland, what he’d done would be considered almost shy, but In Mordent he might be considered a savage.&nbsp; Either way, it had been worth it. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>01-07-2013, 19:52:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Despite the house's reputation, and the oddities they'd encountered, Hilda felt no sense of foreboding as she relaxed in front of the fire.&nbsp; Some small part of her wondered about the fire lighting itself and cautioned against taking the spirit's, or spirits'. helpful actions at face value.&nbsp; It was so very easy to dismiss her misgivings as negative thinking.&nbsp; This was the home of her ancestors - her cousins, removed from the direct line though she might be - welcomed her because she belonged there.&nbsp; It seemed so simple to accept the feelings.&nbsp; She had made it through the obstacles placed in her way and never again would she be someone's cast off, foundling, poor relation.&nbsp; In time, she would be the lady of Stamford House, a respected scholar and researcher of the spiritual arts.<br><br>It did not occur to her, as she gazed into Kovac's eyes, that she had never really felt any of those things at all, at least prior to opening the doors to this house.&nbsp; &nbsp;She was warm, and relaxed, and slow growth of admiration and desire in the Gundarakian adventurer's eyes was acting upon her senses in much the same manner as his wine, save for the warmth and tingling that suffused her as he reached for her manifested itself in regions only tentatively explored hitherto.<br><br>Her lips parted of their own volition as she felt the touch of his hand on her cheek, and as his lips pressed against hers, she inhaled softly, taking in his wine flavored breath and savoring the taste of both it and him.&nbsp; Her kiss was soft and yielding, with only the faintest hesitation before she responded, tilting her head to better fit against his.&nbsp; As he pulled away (too soon, much too soon), Hilda's eyes opened and held his gaze.&nbsp; Her lips remained parted, and after a few heartbeats, her mouth pursed slightly and the tip of her tongue ventured out to moisten lips that felt almost bruised, or perhaps just to reclaim the taste of his mouth upon hers for a few seconds more.&nbsp; Her expression was one of bemusement, and then she smiled softly, a faint trace of color giving her cheeks a rosy glow in the firelight.<br><br><em>"I've been waiting for you to do that," </em>she said after a moment, the words escaping her lips without thought.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her blush deepened, and she felt an instant of mortification that she had been so ill mannered, but the near horror was fleeting.&nbsp; It was true, after all, even if she had only just realized it.&nbsp; There was no shame in admitting what was simply the truth, and no shame either in the perfectly natural feeling.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>05-07-2013, 20:16:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac hadn’t quite known what to expect when he’d kissed her. But once his lips were pressing into hers, , he found himself somewhat surprised at her reaction. He’d half expected a slap across the face—or perhaps worse, considering the powers at Hilda’s command, but instead, she’d welcomed it.&nbsp; And the desires that had but a moment before felt like a risk now felt imperative.&nbsp; He looked at Hilda with a smile that was no longer playful, no longer quite so lighthearted.&nbsp; <br><br>He took a moment watching the expressions flicker across her face—a little doubt, yes. The mores of her culture surely told her this was wrong. They would tell her it was wrong even if Kovac had been a well-bred Mordentish nobleman, instead of an upstart backwater vagabond with a fortune of suspect origin and a devotion half-mad foreign god. But beyond that, and much stronger. And Kovac needed no reminding that even if she was Mordentish, she was still a woman. <br><br>When she told him she’d been hoping for the kiss, he wasted no time responding with words.&nbsp; Instead, he reached out to encircle her waist with one arm, drawing her to him, pressing her body close to his. With his other hand he quickly unbuckled the belt that carried his sword and pistol, and the weapons clattered to the ground, temporarily forgotten. All that mattered in the moment was Hilda’s touch.<br><br>His lips met hers again, this time hard, without any of the gentles of that first kiss.&nbsp; His strong arms kept her to him, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.&nbsp; The feel of her, the taste of her was all that he knew, and all the ghosts and all the haunts in the world be damned.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>08-07-2013, 22:57:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was often the way of matters relating to the spirits of the departed that there was no time to ponder the best course of action.&nbsp; A moment's delay could result in knowledge forever lost, or prompt the anger of the unquiet dead.&nbsp; Hilda had learned to trust her instincts, at least when in the grips of channeling the auras that responded to her presence.&nbsp; It had always seemed strange to her that her foster parents had encouraged that, yet held the opinion that instincts were not to be trusted in a seemingly narrow range of circumstances dealing with natural attraction.&nbsp; Kovac allowed her no time to ponder her own in this case, and Hilda had only time to emit a startled gasp that was smothered against the urgent seeking of his lips as he drew them together.<br><br>She stiffened as if to draw away, a moment of fear penetrating her consciousness like the flash of fire reflected on the edge of a sharpened blade approaching her throat.&nbsp; Yet it was quickly overwhelmed by senses just as primal and more persuasive - a blend of Hilda's own curiosity, desire, and the soft, almost imperceptible inner voice that murmured of how handsome and strong Kovac was, and how sweet the touch of his lips and hands.&nbsp; She melted against him, lips parting with no further hesitation at the press of his tongue.&nbsp; She could taste the wine stronger now, stronger even than from her glass, and the soft rasp of his tongue was a sweet promise of further and even more exciting intimacies.&nbsp; <br><br>She barely even heard the muffled thump of the weapon belt as it was discarded, taking with it the glass Hilda had nearly drained to send it spinning wildly across the floor.&nbsp; If she did hear it, she assumed it was the wild beat of her own heart, of the blood rushing through her veins, as her hand sought a grip on his shoulder as she tentatively met the press of his tongue with her own.&nbsp; She was likewise unconscious of the movement of her own body.&nbsp; Her legs unfolded from beneath her on the couch as she leaned back against the arm of the settee, the grasp of her hand upon his shoulder providing enough invitation to dispel the idea that she sought to get away from all but the most diffident of lovers.<br><br>Her body seemed to know what to do better than did either her conscious mind or her lips, but the latter was learning even quicker apace than the former.&nbsp; &nbsp;A soft laugh, hardly above a whisper, sounded from the shadows of the room.&nbsp; The wine glass, which had come to a stop near the corner, began to roll slowly again.&nbsp; It disappeared beneath the darkness of a chair, and then from the room altogether, leaving only a barely perceptible trail of spilled vintage to mark its passage.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>22-07-2013, 05:47:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There were moments that Kovac dared not trust to his brain, opportunities too rare and fleeting to sit around pondering them over like some scholar. But there was little time here, in that sliver of time between now as they pressed against each other in the firelight and the morrow, when they would have to begin their work in earnest. But now, with the warmth of her body against him and the taste of her lips on his tongue, he could think of nothing but Hilda. <br><br>His tongue played inside her mouth, first caressing the roof, the interlocking with her own tongue as they lay prone. He tasted the wine on her lips, just as he was sure she’d tasted it on his. But beyond the lingering sweetness of the drink, the subtle pressure of their tongues against each other was sweeter by far. He pulled away, almost teasingly, only to take her lower lip between his teeth. Not quite biting, but not quite gentle. His eyes met hers, and now there was only hunger. <br><br>He returned to her lips then, breaking the kiss only as she leaned back, pulling him down onto the sette with him. His hand slid up her waist, and even underneath the layers and petticoats he could feel her supple body responding to him. As he felt her legs spread beneath him, and his tough moved down slowly past her waist again, down to her ankles. He reached underneath the dress, his hand finding the bare skin of her calf, then her thigh, all the while keeping his slate blue eyes locked on hers. He had not seen the wine glass, may not have even cared if he had seen it. His other hand went behind her back, and he began undoing the lacings of her dress. &nbsp;(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tno_mMKojso&amp;t=01m13s)<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>22-07-2013, 18:40:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Under the watchful eyes of the Darling's chaperonage, the most Hilda had ventured with any of the young men who came to avail themselves of spiritual counsel had been the quick, fumbling press of mouth against mouth, or the more daring lingering kiss upon her palm and wrist.&nbsp; Yet when Kovac's teeth tugged gently at her lips, his eyes burning into hers with both promise and hungry need, she understood that she stood upon the edge of solid ground and deep water.&nbsp; Retreat was still possible, but another step and she would be plunged into its depths to sink or swim.&nbsp; His eyes promised that there was nothing to fear ... and his knowledge of the world came from experience, not dusty and stilted books and manuscripts.<br><br>Yet she was aware of the knowledge that she had not gotten from romantic poems or the few clinical texts that dealt with the body's workings that her body possessed.&nbsp; She felt some portion of his weight upon her, and desired it in full with such intensity that her limbs seemed to ache with its absence.&nbsp; His hand burned through the fabric of her skirts, fingers long and nimble, unhesitating and yet retaining the consideration of his spirit that he had consistently displayed.&nbsp; The fire in the hearth flickered and dimmed, yet it seemed to burn hotter as that hand slipped beneath the hem of her dress and slid along her skin, bringing with it flickering heat that licked upward to her most secret of parts, kindling a smoldering need.<br><br>She heard a moan in the room, muffled, and speaking not of pain but instead of anticipation almost unbearable in its intensity ... and smiled against Kovac's seeking lips to realize that the sound had issued from her own lips.&nbsp; She held Kovac's gaze, and slid her arms upward to encircle his neck as she arched against him, the better to allow him to dispense with the lacings of her dress.<br><br>Stamford house was hush, a quiet that was expectant rather than still.&nbsp; That which did not sleep gathered in the flickering shadows, a faint presence that did not protest the living within those walls, but welcomed it instead.&nbsp; The natural hunger of the two young lovers was as sweet as wine to it, and it urged them on, slowly and subtly dampening inhibitions, whispering silent encouragement.<br><br>When the last of the lacings had been loosened, it was Hilda that reached for the neckline of the fabric and pulled it downward, baring the tops of pale, creamy breasts with soft, pink peaks peeking from folds of soft white lace before lying back onto the sofa in wordless invitation.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>24-07-2013, 15:44:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As they fell together, entwined I each others arms, some small part of Kovac shouted a warning that he would not hear for the rush of blood in his ears, the pounding of his own pulse the only sound worth listening too.&nbsp; It was the house, the voice said, some spectre who wanted them distracted. But that voice be damned. Everything be damned but the touch and the taste of the woman who lay under him, face blushing and legs laid bare. <br><br>He pulled away again, leaning back only to strip the shirt from his back there in the firelight. His body was leaned and toned, not some soft scholar, but not a hulking brute either. H was muscled yet lean, his chest and arms crisscrossed with scars, the evidence of a lifetime spent living and fighting. Faint, fin scars, like what a blade might make, and faint, ragged shadows of lacerations made by some savage beast, or many of them. His right shoulder bore a circular wound, flecks of black testament to the smokepowder round he’d taken at close range.&nbsp; And over his heart there was a tattoo of the sun, the rays extending into crimson spearheads. A beneath that, another tattoo of a smiling mouth with a fleck of blood on it lips, an esoteric symbol of The Morninglord’s duality. <br><br>And some may have seen contradiction, even hypocrisy in Kovac now, a man so steeped in his faith and yet a man who was o poised to take a woman he’d barely met. But Kovac saw no conflict; his was the god of life, of enlightenment, of experience.&nbsp; The cloister had never been for him, had never been for any of hi s kind.&nbsp; And in this moment, all he needed to know about life and enlightenment was lying before him. His eyes did not immediately drift downward. Instead his eyes continued to burn into hers, as hot as the son emblazoned on his chest.&nbsp; He broke the gaze only to kiss her neck, then her collar bone, then the hollow of her throat, and lower still until he reached her breasts. He took one between his teeth, not too hard, but firm enough. Then his tongue was there, soothing where his teeth had pressed into her. One hand worked her other breast, sometimes squeezing firmly, sometimes long fingers teasing the nipple. All the while, his free hand worked to pull her dress from around her legs. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>24-07-2013, 23:47:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her heart pounding in her chest so strongly that it seemed she'd been running, Hilda watched with heavy eyes as Kovac removed his shirt.&nbsp; She swallowed once, her throat making a small convulsive movement, but even had she wanted to she doubted that she could tear her eyes away.&nbsp; They traveled slowly over the bared skin, marked with scars of a danger-filled life, in fascination, and her hand with two fingertips extended reached out to trail along the marks hesitantly as if fearing that the touch might reawaken old pain.<br><br>As she felt the warmth of his skin and the pulse of life beneath the taut muscle, the scars and even the brightly colored tattoo on his faded from focus, and her palm joined her fingertips in gentle exploration of the man entire, sliding to his shoulders and back as he leaned in to kiss the skin she had bared for him in a gesture of both daring and need.&nbsp; His mouth burned like sweet fire along her neck and lower, the skin sensitive for its almost constant protection from the sun and elements.&nbsp; Her clothes felt heavy on her limbs where they still clung, like a shroud that hid the warmth of his body and the fire from her, and without thought or modesty she helped him divest her of them even as she felt his teeth upon her breast.<br><br>A momentary alarm broke through the fog of newly awakened and ravenous desire, and she stiffened against him, then relaxed again as tongue and lips played over where his teeth had gently bit in play.&nbsp; The movements of his head against her seemed so much more than a simple touch.&nbsp; Her breath caught and held, then escaped in a long, shuddering sigh as her nerve endings sang in response to his kisses and caresses.&nbsp; She wanted more, and her hips rose eagerly to allow him to push the heavy skirts from her legs to the floor, leaving her clothed only in the corset that bared as much as it concealed of her breasts, soft white stockings, and a garment of softest linen fastened with small buttons that hinted at the shape of her sex with its soft golden curls.<br><br>Hilda's body was that of a girl just coming in to the first ripe flush of womanhood, not yet the statuesque perfection of her ancestors depicted upon the walls, but not far from it.&nbsp; Her body already moved against his with instinctive knowledge, welcoming every touch and arching for more after the one brief hesitation.&nbsp; "Kovac," she whispered softly, lips curling in a smile as both hands reached out to frame his face and then his head, fingers threading through his hair and drawing his mouth to the smoothness of his skin with gentle impatience.<br><br>A presence in the room, little more than a heaviness in the air as it lingered in the shadows, watched avidly, a little jealous that sweet little Hilda was the first to taste of Kovac's lips.&nbsp; The spirit was half tempted to make her presence known, to disrupt the delicious proceedings to claim a far more pleasurable first for herself ... but it might spoil the fun later.&nbsp; &nbsp;They were family, after all, and families shared.&nbsp; Hilda, and her darling lover would soon learn that.&nbsp; "Am I not correct, dearest Sister?" she whispered, her voice no more than the rustle of a breeze that fluttered the flames of the nearby lamp.<br><br>Of course, there was another in the house whose generosity was more suspect, but there was time before <em>he</em> came ... there was still time, and perhaps they would prove strong enough.&nbsp; For a little while, she would watch.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>27-07-2013, 05:16:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sound he made as her fingers brushed against his scars was not one of pain, and nor was it a moan. It was closer to a low growl, gruff and husky and even a bit impatient. He felt an insistent, burning desire to simply tear what remained of her clothes from her and take her without further delay. But he resisted that urge, if only to draw out this moment for as long as possible. To savor the taste of her skin, the feel of her body, still clothed, all too clothed, moving in time with his ministrations. Had she know the touch of a man before now? He thought perhaps, but the way her hips bucked against him spoke of a woman lost in pleasure.&nbsp; <br><br>When she spoke his name, he looked up at her, a ravenous smile on his lips. “Hilda…” he said in answer, and his nimble fingers worked to unfasten the corset. The sight of that corset had inflamed him, but he wanted to feel her skin on his, to kiss his way down to her sex, and so with a few practiced motions he’d undone the complicated, crisscrossing knots of Hilda’s corset, and tugged it free. The stockings could stay, he thought wickedly, but everything else…<br><br>His breath was hot on her skin as he slowly, almost tortuously slowly, kissed his way down her body, first the underside of her breast, and then down stomach and hips that had been covered by the corset before. He brushed a hand against her linen smallclothes, his touch unyielding but still somehow gentle as his fingers played across the folds of her budding womanhood through the linen. <br><br>By the time his mouth reached the spot where flesh gave way to her smallclothes, his hunger for her was too sharp for subtlety. He took the first button between his teeth and ripped it out by the seams, the others soon until her sex was laid bare before him, the golden curls barley covering the contours of her womanhood and the heat of her arousal. He wasted o time, could not allow himself ay more time. His tongue pressed against hr moist flesh, first attending to her outer folds. His hands dug into her hips, fingers pressing, clutching.&nbsp; His tongue moved in long, languid strokes, and then he moved up to the smooth, raised button of flesh.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>29-07-2013, 02:44:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Outside Stamford House, the moon hung full and silvery in the sky like a queen holding court with the stars, illuminating the landscape with a cool and gentle glow.&nbsp; As Kovac's lips slowly made their tortuously teasing way down her newly revealed skin, the clouds slowly crept toward the argent orb and devoured its light in stages just as slow.<br><br>Hilda trembled with each soft press of his lips, heat radiating from his breath and skin combining with the mild heat from the flickering flames in the hearth making her feel as if she had been set alight with the trailing tickle of fire culminating at the apex of her thighs, now spread wide apart by Kovac's torso and her own unthinking desire.&nbsp; As his teeth ripped away the first button, the moon's light disappeared behind the clouds and the shadows lengthened so that the light from the dancing flames seemed to reach out to run insubstantial hands over the lovers'bodies in shared delight.<br><br>There was a soft sound of eager anticipation from the shadows in the far reaches of the room, a hungry sound, as Kovac's tongue delved slowly and deliberately between the soft folds of Hilda's nether lips, but it was lost in Hilda's cry as she felt the intimate caress and pushed herself up on her elbows with an expression of mingled desire, embarrassment, and confusion.<br><br>Her hand in Kovac's hair half moved to push his head away, even as she moaned against the sensations that the oh-so-intimate kiss provoked and her hips lifted involuntarily toward his mouth in a hungry plea for more.&nbsp; She had never even thought of such a kiss ... or had she?&nbsp; Her fingers clutched at the soft waves of his hair as his tongue continued its expert teasing, his eyes lifting to hers intent with desire for her.&nbsp; He was worldly, experienced, a man of faith and of principles ... and his mouth on her body made her ache with a hunger that was both familiar and new, but never had an ache felt so devastatingly sweet.<br><br>Any reservations melted away as she felt the first probing touch of his lightly roughened tongue against the very center of the ache.&nbsp; <em>"Kovac, by the stars!"</em> she whispered, the exclamation seeming right though she had never uttered such a thing before that she could remember.&nbsp; <em><strong>"Please!"</strong></em><br><br>The presence in the room took care to remain in the shadows as her hunger grew. Her sister had always had a preference for those who were gentlemen only in one sense of the word, The more things changed, the more they remained the same.&nbsp; All the same, she longed to be the one so deliciously laved by the Gundarakite priest's clever, agile tongue, or&nbsp; perhaps to join the two of them in a delicious tangle of mouths, hands, tongues and .. surely he would shed his pants soon and reveal the quality of his finest warrior's blade.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>30-07-2013, 23:51:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For half a heartbeat, Kovac did not know of her shout of "please"'was her crying for him to stop or her begging him to continue. But the way she dug her fingers in his hair and pressed him even closer to her sex. His tongue pulsated against the button of her womanhood, first in slow, languid arcs, then faster, forceful strokes, and then the cycle would begin anew.<br><br>He could have almost lost himself in those rhythms, the heat if her desire in his face and her smooth legs wrapped around him. But the foreplay had only intensified his desire for her, his need for her in that moment. He had to have her. <br><br>Nimble, impatient fingers worked to undo his trousers, and he kicked off his boots with practiced ease, not needing hands for that. He was already hard, had been since their lips had first met. Now, both of them naked, Kovac took Hilda in his arms and kissed her fiercely, the taste of her still lingering on his lips. <br><br>His arms wrapped around her, and with nothing between them but the sheer material of Hilda's stockings, he felt her body pressed close to his and gave a small shudder of anticipation. His arms tight about her waist, he flipped them both so now he was the one sitting on the settee and she was straddling him. His manhood throbbed against her, and he slowly pressed his tumescence against her sex. Not penetrating, not just yet, but rather letting the tension build, letting her get used to the feel of him, letting her give the sign that she was ready to cross this threshold. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>01-08-2013, 02:15:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The large, high-ceilinged room hung heavy with an air of eager expectancy as Hilda writhed and squirmed against Kovac's expert ministrations, the sweet musk of her arousal borne on the air currents.&nbsp; "Oh, you lovely man," the presence half-growled, shuddering with the memory of pleasures taken long ago in that very spot but far from forgotten.&nbsp; Her sweet little blonde cousin's body went rigid and her legs pressed against her lover's shoulders as he drove her to the edge of release as the spirit fought to control the aching emptiness within her that longed again to be filled.<br><br>As Kovac lifted away, his lips glistening faintly in the firelight with Hilda's virginal nectar, the presence felt control slipping, and let its frustrated longing be heard in the crackle of splitting logs in the fireplace.&nbsp; Almost angrily, she let herself be drawn aloft in the shadows, unseen, to the comfort of the room which had been hers in life.&nbsp; The priest's things were there, and she let the promise of things to come soothe her hungers.&nbsp; She faded from the tempestous emotions, and slept, lost in memories of all that was, and all that the voices told her would be.<br><br>Below, on the settee, Hilda half raised as Kovac divested himself of boots and trousers, her hair tousled, breasts heaving and flushed with warmth.&nbsp; She had never seen a man unclothed entire, though there were drawings and texts that she had been allowed to study for her work, and nature was much less concerned about such things than people.&nbsp; Yet all the same, the knowledge of what came next and that there was nothing to fear was there, instinctive, and she offered no resistance as he pulled her up into his arms and covered her mouth with his own, but pressed herself against him instead with near wanton eagerness.&nbsp; Somehow in the midst of the kiss, she found herself atop his unclothed, lean body, clad only in the white knit stockings that hugged her calves and gave her bent legs greater purchase on the settee's slick fabric as she felt the heat and press of his manhood, pulsing against her like the beat of his heart, and she could feel her own corresponding heartbeat in the juncture between her legs where his lips and tongue had so recently delved.<br><br>Blue-grey, stormy eyes regarded him with a mix of heavy desire and trust, though a trace of uncertainty or confusion lingered, as if she hadn't really expected thing to happen so suddenly or so emphatically.&nbsp; Her hands were surer though and slid slowly down his arms as they steadied her as if committing the feel of them to memory.&nbsp; She bent slowly at the waist, her hair slipping down to frame her face and pressed her lips to his again, her hips undulating ever so slightly so that their skin rubbed deliciously in a touch of promise.&nbsp; In a husky voice that held no trace of doubt at all, she whispered, <em>"Make love to me, Kovac,"</em> before delivering two brief, feather-light kisses to the corners of his mouth before her lips closed over his bottom lip and sucked it gently but insistently in a kiss that was far from innocent or unworldly. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>06-08-2013, 06:56:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He heard her pleading for him to make love to her over the roar of his own pulse in his ears. Heard her almost command it, then felt the exquisite sting of her teeth pulling at his lips. He had no words to respond, but His touch was firm, sure, knowing. Needing. The feeling of her new and sharp like a fresh razor, but familiar too, as if this wasn't their first time together. Her lithe body pressed against his muscles and his scars as if it were meant to. His hips rocked against hers; the heat of her burning against his straining manhood. <br><br>His touch slid up her back, caressing the bare flesh and the curve of her spine. Fingers that veritably danced when weaving a spell or loading a firelock now entwined in her hair and pulled back, not rough, but not without force. He kissed her fiercely, no tenderness in his lips and his tongue, no shy virtue in the way he grabbed her, kneading hr flesh.&nbsp; His hand closed around the swell of her buttocks and he squeezed, felt the flesh yield to his touch.<br><br>H was dimly aware of the fireplace, how it seemed to crackle louder and burn hotter as Kovac and Hilda explored each other's bodies. He felt it even over the heat of their bodies clinging desperately to each other. If it was a sign, some warning or portent of things to come, such things were beyond him now., He paid it no heed. Paid nothing heed except Hilda, her lithe body sliding against him, achingly beautiful, and his, even if only for tonight. <br><br>His arms around her waist, his sex throbbing against hers, he took her there in the parlor of the empty mansion. His eyes locked on hers, his sex pressed against her folds, hard as granite ad hot as flame. He felt her open for him, and he lowered her slim body onto his tumescence and thrust his hips up until he was inside her. His lips parted and he let out a soft, low moan a he sheathed himself inside her, but he went slowly, letting her grow accustomed to him. Then, he would truly take her, and this holy man meant to show her all the ways of the world. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>07-08-2013, 20:40:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was nothing but the two of them, and Hilda almost felt she should be afraid but wasn't.&nbsp; The heat from the fire warmed their bodies so that each movement that brought flesh against flesh scorched pleasantly, the heat welcoming and insistent.&nbsp; His body, his face, was beautiful in the flickering firelight, their bodies contrasting even as the play of light and shadows from the hearth, an exquisite dance of color and movement, desire and need, pleasure and even the occasional sweet tang of pain, the pull of hair, the nip of teeth, scrape of nails to heighten the senses.<br><br>Hilda was silent, save for her breathing, which responded to Kovac's every touch and kiss as if he were drawing notes from one of the instruments in the music room.&nbsp; She cried out only once, sharply, as the slow thrust of his hips met a momentary resistance that was gone almost before it was registered.&nbsp; She stilled, her head thrown back and long blonde tresses tangling about his fingers as he held her, but when her eyes opened and head raised, it was she that moved against him, pushing his heated hardness deeper into her depths as her mouth found his once more.&nbsp; She kissed him back as he had kissed her, a primal need that her body understood well enough that it need not trouble her thoughts overwhelming more tender emotions as it drove her onward.&nbsp; The sound of his moan was sweet, heady, and her body responded to it, tightening around him as if fearing he planned to escape before the lovely sensations their joining evoked could be fully explored.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>09-08-2013, 07:20:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sensation of her yielding to him, the moment of resistance giving way to ecstasy, drove Kovac near the brink of madness with desire fulfilled, and desires yet to be. His moan loudened into a deep, full sound that seemed to reverberate throughout the parlor.&nbsp; The sound was cut off only by her mouth on his, and he met it with a passion to equal hers. His hips began rocking faster now even as she tightened around him, his desire to savor this&nbsp; moment outweighed by the need, the all consuming lust to have her. The way her hair spilled around her shoulders, the way her skin seemed to glow against the firelight, the way he felt against her, inside her. She was almost too perfect to be real. A dangerous thought that, and in this moment, what did that matter? <br><br>He was not content to take her just on the settee.&nbsp; He stood, lifting her with no effort, graceful even here, arms around her, still throbbing inside her. He drove them both forward, holding her up by her legs, until he’d backed her against one of the walls, pinning her there with his body. He caught her by the wrists then, and moved to pin those against the wall as well. No sign of malice on his face as he did so, only wanting, and perhaps something deeper. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>11-08-2013, 20:40:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The feeling of having Kovac inside her was indescribable, alive, suffused with heat.&nbsp; Each movement brought tingles and waves of pleasure that radiated from their joining, and for that moment in time she felt as if everything centered upon the other for the two of them, as if their joining was akin to the focusing crystal that she sometimes used to intensify her control.<br><br>There was no control for her here, and without knowing how or why, she felt that the same was true of her lover.&nbsp; The thrill of that knowledge ran through her like a fire itself, particularly as he lifted her effortlessly and pinned her against the wall.&nbsp; Her legs wrapped around his hips as the movement drove him even deeper inside, and she offered no resistance as he raised her wrist and held her there.&nbsp; In fact, she kissed him all the more urgently, lips parting as if inviting him to do as he liked so long as he did not stop. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>14-08-2013, 06:39:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her kiss drew a growl from somewhere deep in his chest, s noise that told of lust and longing and this furious moment they shared. His hands kept her pinned to the wall, and her act of yielding to his desire sent nearly a wave of pleasure through him, to rival his physical ecstasy. This priest, at the moment thoroughly a man of the world, attended to her body as fervently as any prayer, and the burning intensity in his eyes indeed belonged to a man consumed by far more than lust, or rather, consumed by a lust that was far from simple. <br><br>Still gripping her wrists, he moved them so that her hands crossed above her head. Giving her a wicked grin, he pinioned both her hands against the wall with only one of his. The other hand began a slow trek down the length of her body, caressing the places he’d scratched, nails raking across the bare skin he’d caressed before. He stopped only when his fingertips brushed the smooth, taught skin on her stomach, and the palm of his hand pressed against her golden mound. He began to rub between her legs in ever-tightening circles, moving in counter-rhythm to his hips. He would press firm against her as he withdrew his manhood, letting up only as he drove into her once more, giving her no respite, no break from his attentions. He wanted to see her lose herself in the height of her passion, and so his pace became faster, his ministrations less gentle as his body rocked against hers. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>14-08-2013, 22:52:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The heat from the fire seemed to Hilda to have seeped into the wall itself, to the stone and board and mortar itself.&nbsp; It was all around her, against her bare back and buttocks where Kovack's weight and grasp pinned her, against her inner thighs where the soft skin scraped along his hips with each thrust, at the pulse in her wrists where his fingers pinned them, and oh, dear gods, the fire that licked at her where his fingers relentlessly toyed with a part of her that surely must burst into liquid fire and consume her wholly ... and the sweet fire within that burned stronger each time he buried his member deep inside her aching depths.&nbsp; She heard a sound, like the crackling of embers when the heat finally grew too great for the structure to hold, and realized that it came from her lips as her head tilted back hard against the wall and she shuddered and shook against him, muscles contracting hard and tight around him as sparks exploded behind her closed eyes and filled her vision.<br><br>The liquid fire within her seemed to burst free, bringing with it a heady, exhausting release, slick warm juices cooling the fire and easing Kovac's thrusting passage even as she gripped him within, and his demanding fingers drenched with that wet heat.&nbsp; Hilda slumped against him, her breath coming in short, hard pants, the token resistance from her wrists gone completely.&nbsp; Only her legs still clutched him, instinct operating where thought no longer sufficed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>16-08-2013, 03:52:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac leaned forward, putting more weight on the hand that held her pinioned to the wall, and he felt the first tremors of her climax ripple through her slender, wanton frame. He whispered her name over and over, though he lost the sound of his own words under her moans. He drew up flush with her as she began to shake in orgasm, his hard, lean stomach pressing against hers. As her legs clutched him and her body slumped against the wall, Kovac took her once again in his arms and the two of them tumbled onto the floor. He was underneath her now, still throbbing inside her, relishing the heat of her body, the way it felt almost weightless against him. He was close now, so close part of him wanted to release inside of her now. But no, not yet. A faint, roguish grin parted his lips, and he withdrew from her sex, slowly, teasingly. Then his fingers, still heavy with the scent of her, curled tightly around her hair, then pushed downward. Downard toward his sex, still hard, still aching for her, now wet and glistening with her own nectar. He ached to feel himself inside of mouth, ached to release his seed behind her lovely lips, ached for this final sign that she belogned to him this night.&nbsp; <br><br>Meanwhile, near the fireplace that had blazed and flared as if in time with their passions, a faint figure took form, still too blurred for the eye to make out clearly.&nbsp; But as the priest and his young lover's passions reached their height, the outline became sharper, ahd anyone been there to see it. Red hair, tight lips, a neat crimson circle on the forehead. Only now had she followed the Gundarakite to this place, this strange mansions where the other spirits strained at her, let her know she was unwelcome in these halls. Only now had she found a way in, slipping between the thin fabric between the worlds. Now she cast cold eyes on the priest, and she wore a smile as icy as the fire was blazing.&nbsp; And in a blink, the form was gone, as she so often was. But Kovac knew none of this; he only knew his desire, his need for release. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>18-08-2013, 04:03:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As her body continued to shake, little tremors of pleasure radiating still from the nerve endings that had been so sweetly ravaged, Hilda was only dimly aware of the motion that took them both to the floor beside the fireplace.&nbsp; She heard Kovac whispering her name, a soft and sweet litany almost like a prayer.&nbsp; For a moment, it seemed that it was not her name that he was saying, which cut through the fog of bemused ecstasy as a stab of jealousy ripped through her.&nbsp; It was a momentary flash only, until she focused on his face smiling below her, still Kovac even though his face was filled with desire and an intense need that robbed her of breath.<br><br>Without thinking, she made a soft sound of protest as he pulled away, the heat and hardness of him slipping from her and leaving her feeling oddly empty, almost bereft and tingling with the reminder of recent pleasure.&nbsp; His hand tangled in her hair, still gentle, but insistent.&nbsp; For a moment, she was confused, and resisted the gentle push of his hand, her lips parting to form a question that failed to form.&nbsp; Yet the same unexplained knowledge that had guided her earlier took over and she remembered his trailing kisses down across her stomach and lower, the thrill of his mouth and tongue upon her most secret and sensitive of places, and she understood what he wanted.<br><br>Of that which Kovac saw, she knew nothing, but the heat from the fire grew cold for a moment as she hesitated.&nbsp; She dismissed it as a touch of fear from her own uncertainty, and with her eyes holding his, she lifted herself upon her knees and let his hand guide her, stopping to press her lips against the ridge of muscle along his stomach, then following it with an exploratory flick of her tongue.&nbsp; His skin tasted faintly of salt and a hint of sweetness, her tongue hot against his skin.<br><br>Uncertainty wavered, and vanished, as her eyes sought his and held his gaze, and she slid down another inch and repeated the kiss, her lips curving in smile that reflected his.&nbsp; <em>"Is this what you wish, Kovac?&nbsp; Tell me what you would have me do." </em> The words were husky, her voice and yet strange to her ears, and it seemed that she already knew the taste of him, still slick from their recent joining.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>21-08-2013, 05:56:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac threw back his head and arched his back as he felt her kisses snake their way down his stomach, felt her tongue flick against his lean, scarred flesh.&nbsp; His hips rose to meet her, and his fingers gripped at her hair, hard now, vicelike in his desire. He closed his eyes, savoring her kisses, her teasing as the fire painted shadows on the backs of his eyelids.&nbsp; &nbsp;<em>Light in the pit,</em> it as if she’d been made for this.&nbsp; Even now, in her hesitation, she sent sparks through him, a lightning storm centered on them and them alone.&nbsp; He opened his eyes, and then his mouth to call out his name, but what he saw next stopped the words in his throat. <br><br>She was there, the haunt, the spectre. Not the ones Hilda had warned of, but his own demon.&nbsp; She stood there, outlined against the flames, staring down at them both, a blank expression on her pallid face, made somehow even more white against the firelight. She made no move to approach the lovers, did nothing but what she always did, stare at him as if she was supposed to know what any of it bloody meant.&nbsp; <br><br>Perhaps a lesser man would have been afraid, perhaps a lesser man would have been deterred. But even that harpy of a shade could not draw him from his coupling, away from this woman, so new, but so eager.&nbsp; “Hilda…” he said at last. “Yes, Hilda, keep going.&nbsp; Take my cock in your mouth. Make me come.” It was half a command, half a plea as he writhed under her touch.&nbsp; If this thrice-damned spectre wanted a show, by all the gods he’d give her one. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>22-08-2013, 18:01:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A faint trace of unease gripped Hilda as she she knelt there on the floor by her lover, her legs cushioned by the fine weave of the rug that held the fire's heat and dampened the chill of the stone tile.&nbsp; For the first time since she had felt the touch of Kovac's mouth on her naked flesh, she was aware, truly aware, of the flame-fed fog that had clouded her mind.&nbsp; She could sense the influence, knew too that she had acted under its demand.<br><br>Her head turned toward the flames, the strongest source of that other there in the room, reaching out for the talent that would reveal such things -- but in her current state, those talents were lost in the haze of desire, both satiated and still hungering.&nbsp; That the fire concealed something, she knew ... and knew too that another revenant of past days stood before the blaze, but to rebuke them was beyond her just then.&nbsp; Her eyes half-closed against the instincts that told her she had behaved with shameful wantonness and the ones that defiantly insisted that there was nothing wrong with giving herself to whomever she chose.<br><br>Kovac's words broke the momentary confusion, and she looked down at him, hearing the command but seeing the naked need in his eyes that was as much emotional, succor against the night, as physical.&nbsp; The heat from the fire receded abruptly, leaving her skin warm to the touch but not burning hot as it had been, and Hilda admitted to herself that she did not regret her choices, and nor did she blame any other for them.&nbsp; She had done no more and no less than what she had wished, and would do again. <br><br>How she knew what to do, she did not know and she did not question.&nbsp; She simply did as Kovac bade and let his hands in her hair guide her head, and let her lips envelop him just as her nether lips had done only moments before.&nbsp; The skin was silken against her lips, her tongue gliding over the ridges of veins beneath skin and muscle, and he tasted of salt and skin, a sharp and distinct but not unpleasant flavor that she realized was her own.&nbsp; Her eyes lifted to his, calm now and certain, seeking to reassure, as she mirrored his earlier slow thrusts, letting his hands and expressions guide her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>25-08-2013, 23:59:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The next time he opened his eyes, the red spectre was gone. Or at least, she was out of his view. It hardly mattered right now. Had the abyss itself opened up underneath him, it hardly would have mattered.&nbsp; For all his spiritual training, Kovac was very much a creature of the world, lying there on the floor, with Hilda poised over him. His hips, his whole body seemed to move of its own accord now, as if her were but a puppet in his young love’s hands. Every touch from her sent small lightning strikes coursing through his body. And when she obeyed him and took him into her mouth, he moaned aloud, not caring who heard, living or dead<br><br>“Gods, yes, just like that Hilda, just like that…” His grip on her hair loosened a little. For all his desire to possess her, to control her, she needed no guidance from him now.&nbsp; Every flick of her tongue, every purse of her lips drew sounds from him, sometimes moans, sometimes exhortations to continue, sometimes only heavy, ragged breathing. And soon, he felt himself begin to shake, and he could hold back no longer. His hips bucked, he called her amen loudly enough that there could be o mistaking it, and he released into her mouth<br><br>His eyes rolled back and his body went rigid, and when he started breathing again his chest roe and fell like a bellows.&nbsp; The red woman was till nowhere to be seen, and the fire that had threatened to envelope the parlor was but glowing embers now, smoldering, though not extinguished.&nbsp; He reached down to pull Hilda’s face flush with his, and kissed her full on the mouth. Soon, he knew, they’d have to make some sense of this. Work through what they’d just done as professionals. But not yet, not just yet…<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>27-08-2013, 22:16:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Feeling Kovac writhe beneath her, almost like a thing possessed, was a heady sensation and it goaded Hilda onward, both to drive him to the brink and to hold him there on its edge for as long as possible.&nbsp; When he loosed his seed into her mouth - a thing she would not have even imagined in her most secret of dreams - her look held triumph, the sound coming from her throat as she drank it down and made him part of her even more completely, exultant, but it was lost in Kovac's final cry of her name in a sound so ragged that she thought he must surely have damaged his voice.<br><br>Yet when he pulled her up and to him, his kiss tasting of her just as she no doubt tasted of him, that feeling was swept away beneath the rug of her consciousness and covered, for now, deeply.&nbsp; Until there was need of it again, she almost thought, before that too dissolved into the lovely feeling of afterglow from their lovemaking.&nbsp; There on the rug, warm and sated, she snuggled her head into the crook of her lover's neck and pressed soft kisses into his neck for a few seconds before she stilled, and fell into a light doze, much like a cat in the sun that had just consumed a full meal, her nakedness or his of no moment.<br><br>Just then, she cared nothing for what came after, or what had come before.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>29-08-2013, 06:08:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac pressed his lips against Hilda's forehead, then stared up at the ceiling, feeling content for the first time in recent memory. He thought for a moment about carrying her to one of the bedrooms, yet he found himself infinitely comfortable here. So many of his recent nights had been spent in tents, taverns, or bedrolls. But here, lying on the rug with a beautiful woman and a smoldering fire, he almost felt like lord of the manor. It was...oddly refreshing. He had enough treasure stored away in caches, enough likely to buy his own mansion. But that had never been what he'd craved. For so long, all he had cared about was traveling The Core, rooting out mockeries of life, pausing only to heal his wounds. So why was he feeling comfortable now? <br><br>Maybe he was getting old. Maybe he was getting soft. But to hells with it, all he worried about getting now was a night of peace beside this lovely creature. He let his head fall back onto the rug and his arms wrapped around Hilda, and he fell into a sleep that was blessedly deep, blessedly dreamless. <br><br>And sometime during that long sleep, the red spectre returned to the parlor, having given the mansion the same sort of cursory examination that these two mortals had earlier. She hadn't liked what she'd seen, or felt. In life, the magic of pyromancy and seduction had been her passion, until jealousy had put an end to her temporal existence. Here, amidst a generation-old tragedy, with a blazing fire, and the man she'd chosen to haunt consumed with lust, she had thought this would be the perfect conduit. <br><br>And yet, spirit though she was, even she felt unwelcome here. Perhaps more than that do-gooding Barovian. There was a presence here she had not counted on, something she could not define, but which sent little alarms off in her mind--if "mind" was what one would even call it. Her plan had been so simple. Too simple now, she realized. <br><br>And there was more to this girl, as well. The spectre had encountered many a charlatan both in life and beyond, but there was an aura to this girl, different from the one she saw around Kovac, but there none the less. She hovered over to the sleeping woman, ethereal body floating parallel to the ground until she was almost face to face with the blonde. She snapped her fingers, sending a shower of illusory sparks, intent on waking the girl from her slumber. <br><br>"What is your game, child? Why are you truly here?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>30-08-2013, 18:51:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Hilda slept, satiated, she dreamed of the room where they lay, and of finely dressed women and men of roughly her own age passing through the room and sitting about on the furniture in poses of animation and ease.&nbsp; Some carried glasses, elegant flutes of fragile crystal that gleamed when the sunlight passed through it just right, filled with wine as red as blood.&nbsp; Most of the gathering was centered on the sofa where she and Kovac had begun their amorous activities, and Hilda saw it as if from outside, thorough the paned windows.&nbsp; Two girls sat there, the sisters from the paintings, laughing and talking and flirting with a number of beaux, their eyes frequently cutting to each other in a manner that suggested that they were engaged in some rivalry that was more friendly than not.&nbsp; There was a man near the fireplace with his back to the girls, his face hidden from Hilda as he leaned in to whisper something to the woman standing beside him, and the hand that was held at his back and closest to the fire fluttered or twitched.&nbsp; The action seemed somehow significant to Hilda's dream self, and the fire in the hearth sent out a shower of sparks that seemed to burst unnoticed over the room, and just as Hilda awoke, she saw the man's hand holding his wine glass dribble out a few drops of the blood red liquid onto the exposed skin above the neckline of his partner's not quite modest dress, and his head dipped toward it suggestively.<br><br>Hilda's eyes flew open, and she let out an indelicate but no doubt understandable squawk of surprise and fear as she realized that she was no longer dreaming.&nbsp; &nbsp;Words came from her mouth, hers but not hers, before she could think.&nbsp; <em>"Welcome, sister.&nbsp; There is always room for another."</em><br><br>She swallowed, shaking her head a little to clear it, but careful not to wake the sleeping man at her side.&nbsp; No doubt such a sight would hardly be welcome, and her hand raised between herself and the spirit in a warding fashion as she opened herself, just slightly, to her gifts.&nbsp; <em>"If you wish to speak with me, move away.&nbsp; I will help you if I can, but I do not fear you."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>03-09-2013, 05:11:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The spirit's eyebrows knitted together, squeezing out a drop of insubstantial blood from the wound on her forehead.&nbsp; "Sister?" Yet she acquiesced when Hilda requested she back off. The form whipped back like a tongue of flame amidst an inferno, and in a blink she hovered several feet away from the medium. "There, does that comfort you? You find safety in physical distance?" <br><br>And then there was a flash in her eyes, something akin to realization. "I heard you tell the priest you could speak with spirits...it seems you're not a charlatan after all. But little butterfly, what a web you've flown into." A grin came next, startlingly bright against the redness of her lips. "Or maybe you think you're the trap, a white widow come to chase her rivals out of the nest. How much do you truly know about the history of this place?" The spirit's last sentence could be seen as a challenge, and yet there was a hint of curiosity to it, as if the spectre herself did not know the answer. <br><br>"And what's your plan for this one?" She lifted a hand to Kovac, who still slept, his naked form barely illuminated by the dying firelight. "He fears me, you know. Ever since he began seeing me. But he wouldn't tell you that. He probably thinks it would make him seem weak." A hint of a smile tugs at the spectre's translucent lips. "But I have plans for him, plans that extend beyond whatever games you have here. So I'll know what you mean to do." <br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>04-09-2013, 02:30:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"I am in no danger," </em>Hilda said simply as she rose carefully, attempting to not wake Kovac.&nbsp; Without hurry, she moved to where her clothes had been discarded and began to dress, pulling her clothes on as if she had all the time in the world.&nbsp; As the spirit continued to speak, to threaten, the fire in the hearth which had died down to embers slowly began to climb.&nbsp; <em>"I know little of the history, save that it has seen tragedy ... you are not part of it.&nbsp; You ... you have tied yourself to him.&nbsp; But you have no claim on me, spirit, and have not the power nor right to demand it, not of me, and not in this place."</em><br><br>The warmer the fire blazed, the more Hilda's certainty increased.&nbsp; Gently, she took the coverlet from the couch and draped it over Kovac's nakedness, not because she had become shy of the view, but because she did not like the spirit gazing upon him.&nbsp; This one had not, she thought, with a sudden blaze of angry resentment, come to share but to interfere.&nbsp; Hilda's experience with those revenants that lingered in the physical world was usually to speak with them, to help them find some resolution that would make them move on, and she rarely called upon the power to force them away -- temporary though it surely was -- unless they offered violence.&nbsp; This one had not, but she found herself reaching deep with the intent to do just that, but the heat made her feel faint, so that when she held out her hands to rebuke, she stumbled against the hearth and felt the shock of the heated brick even through her gown.<br><br>Hilda's head dropped, and when it raised again her green-tinted eyes were so no longer, but the blue-gray of approaching winter snow.&nbsp; She smiled, a tiny movement of her lips, and Hilda's face lost some of its innocence as those eyes stared out of it.&nbsp; "You would know?" her voice asked as her smile grew.&nbsp; "Would you, indeed?&nbsp; Then watch and learn - we may even share him with you if you find your manners.&nbsp; When we have done with him, he may leave if it is his wish.&nbsp; Linger too long, and <em>he</em> will come for you, little uninvited sister.&nbsp; Now go, before this sweet little shell, this body of our body, drives you forth where <em>he</em> might waken.&nbsp; <em>He</em> might have liked you once.&nbsp; No longer, I think.&nbsp; No longer."<br><br>She moved over to where Kovac lay sleeping as the fire died down, and knelt beside him as the fire blazed and died down once more. &nbsp;"Kovac, wake up." &nbsp;She shook his shoulder gently, her eyes cutting up to regard the spirit with an almost delighted challenge.<br><br>The voice, the posture of Hilda's body, the expression upon her face, her eyes changed between one word and the next.&nbsp; <em>"There's something here with us."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>06-09-2013, 06:09:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In his dream, he stood in a Souragne marsh, mud up to his ankles, weapons in hand, surrounded by the living dead. A swift cut took the head off the nearest zombie, and a pistol shot shattered a skeleton's spin, sending it clattering to the ground HE holstered the gun ad made a gesture in the air as the walking corpses closed in around him. A ray of light shot from his hand, incinerating a pair of shambling creatures. And still the dead came on. For Kovac, the dream was no nightmare. Hec wore a tight smile on his face as he wove a web of steel and magic around himself. Here were foes he could fight, creatures he knew ho w to vanquish. It was, all things considered, one of his better dreams of late. <br><br>Hilda's touch quickly brought him out of that slumber, ad he shot up, blinking at the coverlet about his shoulders. His confusion evaporated in an instant when his eyes focused on the spirit in front of them.&nbsp; He stood, letting the coverlet fall, heedless of his own nakedness, and stepped between Hilda and the ghost. He shot one arm into the air, and shouted something in his guttural Gundarakite tongue while tracing a circle in the air. A ring of light surrounded Hilda and himself, and he stood within its protection, glaring at the spirit. <br><br>"So you really do exist, and I'm not mad after all..." <br><br>The ghost grinned. "Half right." Her crimson eyes flicked down to Hilda and then back at the priest. "Your latest seems quite the hellion. You have a type, Kovac Gabrosza. The ones who dwell here seem jealous, petty, as Bound One always are." She cast Hilda a final, baleful gaze. "Fare the well, -vessel-." And with that she disappeared into the night, leaving a scent of burning pine in the air. <br><br>Kovac remained standing for some time while the circle glowed faintly around them. At last, he spoke: "So you've met La Flamme." He said the name in High Mordentish, the kind spoken in Dementlieu. He shook his head. "She's never spoken until now, never made any sign she knew who I was. Just there in the corner of my vision, for months now. What did he say?" <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>11-09-2013, 01:49:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><em>"She says she has plans for you, and she does not seem to like the thought that I might interfere with them,"</em> Hilda answered as if by rote.&nbsp; Her thoughts were jumbled and unclear, and it seemed as if there was something more she had meant to say.&nbsp; She frowned, tugging at her dress to pull the shoulders into place absently without wondering overmuch why she needed to as she worried at a detail, until it suddenly came to her and swept away the fuzz of sleep ... or perhaps what they had done before sleep.&nbsp; <em>"She said that you fear her."<br><br>"So this is the first time she has clearly revealed herself to you, then?&nbsp; That's interesting.&nbsp; I wonder ... I wonder what allowed her to manifest so strongly -- it gives credence to the stories in the village.&nbsp; Do you know who she is ... who she was?"</em><br><br>Hilda's cheeks suffused with color as she looked at him, the realization that he was unclothed coming with a disjointed barrage of memories, his hands, his mouth, his body heated and writhing under her hands.&nbsp; Her breath expelled in a long, ragged sound as she brought her thoughts under control.&nbsp; This was no time to be maidenish, and though she was unclear on exactly how things had progressed so quickly, she regretted nothing.<br><br><em>"She did not attempt to harm me, Kovac - only to threaten, to intimidate.&nbsp; Yet I think she is not kindly disposed to you ... or to me."</em>&nbsp; &nbsp;Hilda's hands moved to her arms, rubbing them lightly to dispel the chill bumps that had appeared.&nbsp; It was warm enough outside that it ought not too feel cold, she thought absently, glancing over at the hearth.&nbsp; How long had they slept?&nbsp; She seemed to remember that there had been a fire in the hearth, but there was not even the glimmer of a coal remaining.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>13-09-2013, 04:03:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac stood, blinking away the mental cobwebs as best he could. He reached for his trousers and his weapon belt, but remained bare safe for that. “I should have mentioned it sooner,” he said, the sting of a wounded pride somewhere in the shadows of his tone. “It’s been going on for about a month. I was in Port-a-Lucine, tracking down a necromancer who’s nightly suarees served as a front for his experiments. He was…a crafty bastard, but in the end I put him down for the final death. I gave the remains of the walking corpses he’d enslaved a decent burial and went on my way. I was eager for the wilds of Valachan after a dose of Dementlieu’s ‘civilization.’<br><br><br>“But Dementlieu came with me.&nbsp; I don’t know who she is, this spectre I’ve taken to calling La Flamme. But I didn’t see her until I’d felled the necromancer. I would see her, but never at length. A glance out of the corner of my eye. A face passing by in a crowd. The lingering afterimage upon waking from a nightmare. But she never spoke to me, never directly interacted. I was beginning to think I was touched in the head rather than haunted. And if I were haunted, for such a creature to exist beyond my reach, it is…disconcerting. I was on my way to Mordentshire, to seek out some of Doctor Van Richten’s works on incorporeal undead, and seek the answers there. And should that not have worked, I’d have continued on to Chateaufaux, to seek Vilhelm Mikki’s treatments.” <br><br>“But now I know, or more than I did. And she’s right…there is part of me that fears her, or fears not knowing what she is. But I don’t know what her plans are, or what either of us would be to her.” He furrowed his brow. “What of the other spirits? I doubt they’ll appreciate yet another intruder on their domain.”&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>14-09-2013, 21:05:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"There is no shame in fear, Kovac.&nbsp; Often, it is the thing that keeps us from folly.&nbsp; There are, I think, three basic kinds of spirits -- The first are those who are aware of only their own loss and pain.&nbsp; We may fear them, but the fear comes from within us, a fear of that which we do not know and therefore cannot control.&nbsp; The second are those who are aware of us, and seek our help or our knowledge or simply a remembrance of the companionship they wished in life -- again, these rarely seek to cause fear.&nbsp; The third ... the third seek our fear and the power it gives them over us.&nbsp; Your 'La Flamme' is one such, I think, even if she also seeks something from you.&nbsp; Yet you know her now - has your fear of her not changed now that you do?"</em><br><br>Hilda shivered, hugging herself about the shoulders.&nbsp; The way the spirit had appeared over her ... yes, she wished to instill fear, and also to stake her claim over Kovac.&nbsp; <em>"An ally of the foe you felled, or one of his victims?&nbsp; Have you any sense of her at all?&nbsp; The first thing that comes to mind is often the truest, though our own perceptions can distort, like the impurities in glass."</em><br><br>She avoided watching Kovac dress, avoided the bare expanse of his chest with her eyes, though the simple fact of deciding not to look gave strength to the memories.&nbsp; Her body remembered, too, and made her aware of those memories in a way she could not control as readily as her thoughts.<br><br><em>"I imagine that you are correct.&nbsp; Spirits are often consumed with emotions strong enough to anchor them to the physical world.&nbsp; To have another not bound by the same series of events could be ... like tossing a rock into a nest of wasps.&nbsp; Whether it might help or hinder us, I cannot say."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>17-09-2013, 05:52:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac was not a man given to speaking his fears aloud, not a man whose culture permitted such signs of weakness. But still, he nodded when Hilda asked if that knowledge changed his fear. “It does, but is fear the only emotion that can drive a spectre? If so, I’d expect to see her, or maybe sense her, when I’ve felt most afraid this past month. But she was not there when the child’s skeleton crawled into my bedroll, or when the remains of a great panther stalked me like a mouse in Valachan. I won’t lie, I felt cold fear in those moments, but I saw her not.”<br><br>“When I’ve seen her, it’s often been at taverns or inns, late at night. Late enough that at first I put it off to the hour, or the drink. But no, now that I’m putting it together. I’d see her at parties as well. Once at a ball in Invidia, and again at a festival in Valachan, a celebration of one of their many animal totems. I had thought at first that she was merely appearing in crowds to taunt me, confuse my senses. But now I see a common thread.&nbsp; She seeks out lust, I think. Wherever people have been drinking and feeling amorous, whenever there is a celebration and the couplings that inevitably occur. The last time I saw her…was when I first saw you.”&nbsp; There was no blush in his cheeks when he said that, but he fixed Hilda with a knowing look all the same. And even with what he suspected about his haunt, he felt his need for her smoldering like the ashes of the fire. <br><br>“If that’s the case, if she feeds on desire, that would fit the what I knew of the Necromancer, and his rituals. Was she his victim? His ally? Perhaps both? Perhaps she didn’t don’t know. But she hasn’t harmed me. And you say she didn’t harm you?” He shook his head. “Strange, and bound to get stranger. And are there others? After what we’ve seen, I’m convinced La Flamme isn’t the only spirit among us, but I’ve not felt others. Have you?”&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>18-09-2013, 02:41:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"No, the emotion that draws them most strongly is akin to what keeps them here, or so I have read and so I believe from my own experiences.&nbsp; Fear, anger, lust, sorrow ... those things that speak to us in the loudest of voices."<br></em><br>As Kovac continued to speculate, Hilda listened closely.&nbsp; The names of the places he mentioned she knew only from books and writings, and from conversations of those who had been drawn to travel over the lands to seek out hauntings and infestations.&nbsp; Again, she marveled at how many places he had been and all the things he had done, things he spoke of casually and things that spoke through him, through his scars and his poise, through his confidence and manner.&nbsp; &nbsp;He might not have blushed when he mentioned the connection between his spectre and lust, of couplings, she colored a deep and rosy pink, but she did not look away and there was the trace of a smile on her lips even so.<br><br><em>"She didn't harm me ... but nor did she seem pleased to find me ... with you.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her manner was not of one seeking help, or to warn of danger ... but rather, I think, ... to discourage."</em><br><br>Hilda thought for a minute, her brow furrowing in confusion as she attempted to think, but it seemed as if a veil of fog had been drawn over the events after Kovac had opened the wine.&nbsp; She knew that she had ...&nbsp; that they had ... that she had been with him, but it was choppy and unclear, her memories flashes of heat, skin against skin, his hands, his mouth, and the hard press ...<br><br>She shivered as another wave of heat washed over her, and she took a long, deep breath to steady herself as she understood what had happened ... what must have happened, though she found herself uneasy all the same. <em> "There are others, at least one strong spirit and perhaps more.&nbsp; I fear that we have been influenced, the ... natural feelings of a man and woman well-disposed to one another .. intensified, hastened.&nbsp; &nbsp;It is not that I regret ...&nbsp; I don't ... but ..."</em><br><br>She stopped as her tongue tripped over itself, not knowing what it was that she wanted to say, or rather how to say what she felt when the words were as jumbled as the flashes of memory, and the knowledge that what she regretted most was the interruption that drew her from his arms.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>19-09-2013, 05:13:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“I can’t speak for you, but my actions are mine.” He shrugged his shoulders, and for a moment wished he hadn’t thrown the last of his tobacco away weeks ago. “It’s rare to meet someone who shares a similar gift, someone who knows the burden of contact with living death. And rarer still for that other person to be so damned beautiful. And you’re so damned clever and quick with conversation, it’s easy to forget that –I’m- supposed to be the responsible one. If we went too fast, it’s because I wanted it to go fast.” Again, there wasn’t regret in his voice, only a frank honesty that could not have existed had the tension between them gone unresolved. “Did I take advantage of you? Even if I did,” and here, there was even the hint of a lopsided smile, “I’d probably do it again.” <br><br>“But I see your point,” he said after a pause. “We must be careful. And if some of those spirits did influence us…to what end? And if one set of spirits pushes us together, why does La Flamme seek to discourage it?” He shook his head. “This is a different world, a different dance than I’m used to. But it seems to me, as long as these spirits can come and go at their whim, keeping watch over us all the while, we’ll forever be at a disadvantage. So how do we contact them? How do we balance the scales?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>19-09-2013, 20:21:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"You are not responsible for me, Kovac - you are here to protect me from the physical dangers of which I could not face alone, certainly not when I attempt to make contact with the spirits and have them tell me things they may not wish to reveal." </em> Hilda chided him gently, then moved forward to lay a hand on her arm.&nbsp; <em>"And I did not say that I regretted what has passed between us - at times, the spirits help rather than hinder, showing us things that would otherwise remain hidden, or undiscovered for a long passage of time."</em><br><br>Her eyes were soft in the faint light, older than her years, but she looked very certain even as her face colored as she continued.&nbsp; <em>"And I hope that you will ... do it again, and I am glad that you find me beautiful and clever."</em><br><br>Yet before she could weaken or fall into confusion again, she took a step back and a deep breath to fortify her will.&nbsp; <em>"Tomorrow.&nbsp; I will make preparation to call them forth tomorrow, and together we can discern what they do.&nbsp; Perhaps I can even summon your spirit, your 'La Flamme' and have from her what purpose ties her to you.&nbsp; We should rest, and when we awaken tomorrow have no spirits or food or drink, save for weak, sweet tea ... and nothing further tonight beyond water to quench our thirst.&nbsp; We should go upstairs - whatever lingers here is strong in this room.&nbsp; I can't think why I didn't feel it before."<br></em><br>She could see it now, could catch flashes of the people who had gathered here long ago.&nbsp; There had been jealousy here then, jealousy and the sort of love that had been tainted with darkness, obsession, and they had done things ...&nbsp; Hilda shut off the thought abruptly, uncertain once again whether she had seen what others had done in this room before the roaring fire, or what she and Kovac had done. <br><br>She reached down to pick up her shoes, though she did not attempt to put them back on.&nbsp; She longed for the clean brightness of the bedroom upstairs.&nbsp; There, she thought, there she would be able to think.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>22-09-2013, 01:28:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When she rested her hand on his arm, he laid hi hand upon hers ad squeezed, a quick, shall gesture before letting go. “Let’s hope they’re here to help, the. I was skeptically when we first arrived, sure they meant to do us harm as sure as any ghoul or wight. Now I don’t know what to think. And maybe that’s a good thing. It’ll help keep my eyes open.”&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>He nodded at her plan.&nbsp; “Right, no food or strong drink.” Such were the sacrifices one made for understanding. “Lathander grants me my spells at dawn, during my morning benedictions. There are rituals to help mitigate the influence of malevolent spirits. We’ll have need of that, I’d wager, even if we were not attacked tonight.” His brow creased. “I’ve got chainmail in my luggage, but I doubt I’ll need –that- kind of armor. More likely to wear me down than anything. Do spirits recoil from silver? I have several bullets’ worth. And the blade ensorcelled—Sri Rajiian magics, though I’m still deciphering. But I suspect the edge cuts through more than just flesh.<br><br>He stood, and gathered what remained of his clothing from off the floor. His shirt once again fell over his muscled flesh, Once they were atop the stairs, he turned to Hilda, a roguish smile playing on his lips. For a moment he considered inviting Hilda to share his bed in the darer room, to finish what had been interrupted by spending the rest of the night in each other’s arms. But he thought better on it. If some of the spirits were manipulating them, or feeding from their emotions, perhaps it was best not leaving temptation about. And Hilda was tempting enough to lure Van Richten himself out of hiding. <br><br>&nbsp;“Rest easy, Hilda. In the morning we’ll get to the bottom of this. And should something happen, call out, and I’ll come running.” He then turned to find his bedroom, and return to his much-needed sleep. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>25-09-2013, 18:11:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"It would not be amiss to be prepared.&nbsp; Though armor may do no good against a spectral manifestation, it will help guard against other mischief.&nbsp; We know so little for certain, but the enchantment upon your blade will likely help.&nbsp; Until the spirits make themselves known to us, there is little we can do to prepare, which makes this next day the most dangerous of what we will face."<br></em><br>As her words reminded her of her studies and her congress with the spirit world, Hilda was struck by how uncautious, if not scandalous, her behavior with Kovac had been, but she could not bring herself to regret a moment of it.&nbsp; She had already dressed, mostly, having left off only her stockings and shoes. She picked up the former, and slipped her bare feet into the latter, mostly because it went against her nature to leave things untidily strewn about and because it gave her something to occupy herself as Kovac finished dressing.<br><br>She smiled at his confidence, attempting to mirror it, but her brow remained slightly furrowed.&nbsp; "<em>Yes, we will ... and I will not hesitate to call should anything untoward happen.&nbsp; And you also, and if you see your spirit again."</em><br><br>At the top of the stairs, she raised up on her toes to kiss Kovac lightly on the cheek, not daring more under the current circumstances but unwilling to depart without some acknowledgement of regard.&nbsp; <em>"Sleep well, Kovac.&nbsp; May Lathander, and the forces of light, watch over you as you dream."</em>&nbsp; She did not look back as she moved away and entered the bedroom she had claimed as hers. <br><br>In the room, she felt no niggle of worry and nothing of discomfort.&nbsp; Though she could not think why, she felt safe in that room, and made mental note to check it over on the morrow for any signs of warding against the undead or other evils.&nbsp; Perhaps the previous owner of the house had made preparations for whatever calamity threatened his daughters, but had not been thorough enough.&nbsp; She undressed, humming softly, and climbed into the cool blankets, and fell asleep, remembering the brush of Kovac's hair against her cheek and the light scratch of his stubble against her neck.<br><br><hr><br>In Kovac's room, once the candles were extinguished and Kovac settled down upon the softness of the bed, the faint scent of violet (perhaps from the pillow) in his nostrils, the carvings upon the bed post moved faintly in the shadows, the naked figures swaying slightly as if moving to the first soft notes of an unheard melody.<br><br>By the window, the air grew heavy and the moonlit shadows near the window thickened.&nbsp; A faint, feminine humming disturbed the silence, barely a whisper at first and then louder.&nbsp; Some of the very oldest in Idlethorpe might have recognized <em>"The Blade and the Rose"</em>, a ballad that a wandering minstrel had made popular decades before.&nbsp; Before Kovac could descend too deeply into sleep, the soft touch pulled him from slumber.&nbsp; Though he could see nothing, it felt as if a feminine hand had stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers in a slow, gentle touch.&nbsp; Once fully awake, he had no trouble at all hearing the tune being hummed.&nbsp; The sound seemed to emanate from no particular place in the room, but from the air itself, and the scent of violets was stronger.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>28-09-2013, 22:39:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Though there was a trace of the ominous in his words, he bore a smile as he entered the room and began replaying the day's events. By all rights, he should have been shaken to his core. And his brush with La Flamme had put him ill at ease for a time. And yet that trepidation seemed but a shadow of whatever it was he was feeling. Lathander's bloody lips, what was he feeling?"<br><br>Kovac liked to think of himself as a worldly man. He’d traveled most of the lands in the Core, and more than a few beyond. Yet for all that there was still a part of him that would never leave the prejudices of his homeland behind. To think that Hilda, a girl from a prudish culture, would be so receptive to him so quickly smacked of sorcerery, some fell influence about the house—maybe even one he’d dragged in with him. But as he lay on the bed, drifting off to sleep, he found himself having to admit that perhaps his initial wariness, his thinking he’d somehow taken advantage of here, were nothing but the mountain traditions of Old Gundarak and its backward ways bleeding through.&nbsp; Should he be so surprised, so suspicious that she could be taken with him? Surely he was not the only wielder of strange forces who yearned&nbsp; for a kindred soul, even if for but a short time? Yes, perhaps he need not be so paranoid, even if a hint of paranoia had saved his life, and his sanity, more than once. <br><br>He had nearly found sleep again, felt his mind sinking into that blissful half-awareness, when a soft touch on his face made him sit up with a start. It was only then that he became aware of the faint music—gods, had that been playing as he’d drifted off, or had he merely dreamed it? Finding no source of the song, and now smelling flowers where he saw none, he drew himself up straighter as he sat on the bed. One hand touched the silver medallion at his chest. <br><br>“One of Ms Godefroy’s ancestors, I presume?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>01-10-2013, 03:48:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>The humming ceased, and soft laughter issued from the shadows like the pealing of a silver bell over the moors calling the faithful to worship.&nbsp; There was no malice in sound, only joy.&nbsp; The mattress upon which he sat, stuffed to a delicious firmness, shifted slightly, as if to accommodate the weight of a visitor, and in the pale moonlight seeping through the drapes, Kovac could see the imprint of that weight upon the bed and the covers, pulling them tighter about his legs than they had any right to be.<br><br>"It has been long since such a handsome man has graced my bed," the voice mused softly.&nbsp; "Would that I were the lure rather than restful slumber.&nbsp; If it were I that you had treated so deliciously, I would not have let you slip away before the dawn."<br><br>The disembodied voice did not come from the bed, but rather from a space near Kovac's ear, so close that the air almost seemed to stir and tickle against his ear as the shadows deepened, the moon outside slipping behind a cloud and bathing the room in near darkness.<br><br>To Kovac's question, there was no answer, but there was some similarity to Hilda's voice, a familiar note in the soft laughter.<br><br>The humming resumed, soft as a whisper, and the weight upon the bed shifted ever so slightly, as if his uninvited guest had leaned forward toward him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>03-10-2013, 05:56:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was not the presence of undeath which caught him off guard. In some ways, he'd half-expected another spirit to try to speak with him, especially after the reclusive La Flamme's appearance. But now, with one of the ghosts beside him on the bed, what struck him the most was the pressure the shade exerted on the bed. As if the ghost at his side were flesh and blood. As if it could touch...or be touched. <br><br>His eyes scanned the room, looking for a trace of something that could not be seen.&nbsp; And when the clouds passed over the moon, it was as if someone had pulled a thick blanket over the warrior-priest's eyes. With a word, he could have illuminated the room, but he suspected his eyes would do him little good with this entity. <br><br>"Not just any ancestor then. Lene, yes?" He recalled the dark hair in the portrait, and the onyx nameplate on the vault which bore her bones. He did not at first reply when the spectre began to flirt with him. And when he felt the presence lean in, he did not lean forward, but neither did he lean away. And if only for half a heartbeat, his eyes flashed with a cat's curiosity.<br><br>"Lady Lene, I am a priest of Lathander. I may be no priggish Ezran hiding the best parts of me beneath endless robes, but what makes you think I'd share a bed with Death?" And yet he did not pull away. He could have called upon his god's blessing to repel the spirit, or conjure up a lance of sunlight to dart at where he thought the ghost was, but he did not. Instead, he continued staring, eyes fixed at where he supposed the ghost would be, waiting for some response, be it spoken or otherwise. <br><br>And then he blinked, something of the spirit's cryptic speech clicking in his mind. "What do you mean -lure-?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>03-10-2013, 20:23:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br><br>The air close to Kovac's ears made a soft, pleased sound when she was called by name.&nbsp; <em>"So suspicious, my handsome priest, so cautious."&nbsp; </em><br><br>In the space of a heartbeat, the air near the voice, and where the bed was indented swirled and coalesced, taking on a faded, milky like appearance that slowly brightened and solidified until the ghost's figure was nearly indistinguishable from that of a living girl.&nbsp; It was Lene, as he had surmised, dressed in what must once have been a nightgown and robe.&nbsp; Her body beneath appeared solid as it had in life, the shadows hinting at the lushness of form.<br><br><em>"You have already shared a bed with death, if death you think me, have you not?&nbsp; Yet it is to my bed you have come.&nbsp; I know already that you are no Ezran, and you seem as determined to hide nothing as you are to let nothing be hidden.&nbsp; My sweet little ... cousin ... cried out loud enough to wake the dead as your sought out her secrets with those lovely lips.&nbsp; Priests are ever scholars, but I am pleased to see that you put your knowledge to use rather than setting it in ink upon parchment and hoarding it in your private thoughts and grasp."<br></em><br>Lene smiled, the satisfied smile of a beautiful woman who believes that in time she can have all that she desires, and folded her hands with mock demureness upon her stomach.<br><br><em>"Do I look like death to you, my worldly priest?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>04-10-2013, 23:24:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac tried and failed to hide the surprise in his eyes as the spirit took on what appeared to be a truly material form. So it was Lene, after all. And beyond that, a sudden rush of knowledge, misconceptions dashed away. He'd known that spirits could interact with the living, had in fact been living that for the past month. But here seemed a shade that was almost tangible. He could almost swear he caught a lingering scent of her perfume, though perhaps that was in his head. But there was nothing imaginary about the woman who sat before him now, and he could not help but notice the suggestion of curves beneath clothing. <br><br>"If you mean the two of us now occupy the same bed, then yes, spirit, we do share a bed. But you are not simple, you take my true meaning." Kovac watched her expression carefully as he spoke. What had she really meant by that? Did she think he had taken the red spectre as a lover? Or was she merely teasing him? <br><br>"I believe," he said, shifting at bit at the mention of Hilda, "I'm meant to take that as a compliment. But you're right, Lene. I am cautious. I am suspicious. Your kind plays a game whose rules are alien to the living mind. You do not look like death, far from it, but why would you? And why do you come to me now?" Although Kovac had a guess as to that. He couldn't ignore her sultry gaze, couldn't ignore his body's natural reaction to this cat-and-mouse game, even if he knew full well to be wary. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>09-10-2013, 04:06:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><em>"Nor are you, my worldly priest. Are we not in the company of death from the first ragged breath we take?&nbsp; Our death is with us each day, from the skin we shed as surely as any serpent, most evident in the graying of our hair, the lines of of care upon our faces, the sag of sweet flesh that once pressed firm and eager."<br></em><br>As if to illustrate, Lene's hands moved over the fabric of her gown, illustrating the lushness of flesh beneath her cupping palms, her eyes moving to the motion as if daring, tempting, him to follow the movement.<br><br><em>"Do you really think the dead so different from the living?" </em> Lene laughed softly. <em> "How foolish.&nbsp; We love, we hunger, we long, we ... regret.&nbsp; We anger, we plan, we hope, we touch, we ache.&nbsp; This house has been empty so long, bereft of laughter, of the sweet sound of pleasure and passion.&nbsp; So long since I have felt the warmth of a man's touch, the heat of a kiss." </em> At the naming of each emotion, the spirit's voice rang with that feeling of which she spoke, particularly upon love, touch, and ache. <br><br><em>"Why would I not come?&nbsp; This is my bed, but you knew that already, did you not?&nbsp; Did you not feel me calling to you when first you gazed upon it?&nbsp; Did you not wonder what delights had been experienced here, and might yet come to pass?"</em><br><br>Lene could feel the heat from his body like a flame, and she hungered for it.&nbsp; &nbsp;Perhaps it had been a mistake to wake him, rather than to have slipped beneath the sheets as he dreamed and brought his hungers to the fore, but he would have thought it was Hilda or the one who followed him with jealous, hungry eyes and Lene could not bear that, after all this time.&nbsp; His wanting would be for her when she came to him, and unlike her sister she would settle for no less.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>12-10-2013, 06:53:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac took a long look at the dark-haired figure who sat before him, and he felt his mouth go dry. She'd had the right of it when she'd called him a cautious man, more than she likely knew. Although he'd ridden into many a town with all the sanguinary jolliness of a well-fed merchant, under that friendly exterior lurked a suspicious, sometimes frosty nature. When so much of your time was spent amongst the bones ad carrion flesh of the living dead, one learned to grow detached. To be an island unto himself, even in the midst of Dementlieu’s sprawling ballrooms or Darkon’s feast halls. <br><br>And yet there had always been a gap in that armor he’d clad around his soul. A loneliness that came with hunting dreaded things, a loneliness that came with being set apart from the ebb ad flow of normal folk’s lives. But he’d learned to ignore that nagging at the soul, keeping it tamped down as he always did until it burst, as it always did, when he’d wake to find himself on a whorehouse mattress or in a dutchess’ bedchamber. And now, once again, he felt him staring into that rent in his defenses, and knowing it would fail him again. Knowing, and anticipating. <br><br>“You have some sliver of the truth spir—Lene.” He fixed her with a steely gaze, and his chest rose and fell in a heavy motion, perhaps from fear, perhaps from desire. He reached out a hand, a hand that seemed to move of its own volition to caress the contours of her face. But the hand came to a stop a hair’s breadth from Lene’s face, and he sat there, the lust plain on his face, but a deeper conflict burning in his eyes. <br><br>“And what of Hilda? She is your own kin, as you say. Would you have me both take her and make a fool of her in the same night?” His other words had been more toke resistance, the things a man said to make him feel better about deliberate and foolish acts. But the sincerity with which he spoke of Hilda almost surprised him. His hand, however, did not withdraw, he held her gaze, still listening, still hoping for something to happen one way or the other. But hoping for what?<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>12-10-2013, 21:01:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>Kovac's spirit visitor sat motionless as an image set on canvas as he reached out to touch or rebuke her, and there was no whisper of breath upon his skin even so close as his fingertips hovered.&nbsp; Only her eyes showed animation, a glittering hungry desire that sought to draw him in.<br><br>At Kovac's words, Lene's head lifted and her lips parted, prompting a faint movement of heated moist air near his fingertips.&nbsp; Her expression was one of surprise ... and then she laughed softly.<br><em><br>"Would the space of a few hours between the two truly be more virtuous?&nbsp; What is the proper interval?&nbsp; &nbsp;Have you given yourself body and soul to the love of but one woman?&nbsp; And she to you?" </em> Lene's widened eyes expressed doubt, but more than that was the amusement lurking in the curve of soft lips.&nbsp; <em>"I am not so selfish as to seek to keep you to myself&nbsp; ... I have learned the wisdom of sharing, and if sweet Hilda has not, perhaps she should. "</em><br><br>Lene hesitated for a moment, pondering.&nbsp; <em>"Before the trouble starts again." </em> Her eyes locked on Kovac, the smile holding in place for a heartbeat or two before she shrugged, the motion making her breasts rise and fall invitingly, with the appearance of lush, vibrant life.<br><em><br>"Would you have me go?&nbsp; Would you bargain for slumber free from disturbance for what remains of this night?"<br></em><br><br>She had, against her better judgement, issued a warning.&nbsp; It would do no good, for wheel had been spun long ago.&nbsp; Sooner or later, it would tick to a stop and the accounting so long postponed would come due.&nbsp; &nbsp;As for Kovac, she hated the thought of wasted time, but she would have him.&nbsp; That too was inevitable, and she could afford to play a bit. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>15-10-2013, 06:00:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed when the spirit asked him if he'd given himself to loving but one woman. Damn the dead thing that sat before him, because she was right. Did he think he had some claim to Hilda, just because she'd chosen him for a romp? Had the solitude of the road made him that delusional? Yes, she had said she'd like to find herself in his embrace once more, but what did that truly mean? He was no sparkling youth anymore, and he had nearly a decade on her at least. If he truly were to pursue the young medium, he'd be going down a perilous road. <br><br>But the road that now lay before him was far from safe, yet he found himself inextricably drawn to it. No hope of love or devotion here in this shade, only desire stripped bare. And if she wanted to attack him, did she not have the power to have already done so? So often, the creatures of the night were strongest within their own lairs, and surely in that respect this ghost was no different. So why had she not driven him from the house? Could she be telling the truth, or some semblance of it? <br><br>His eyes locked on hers once again, but he did not move to stroke her ethereal cheek. Instead, he intoned ancient words of power, and the air around him began to shimmer. Thi was one of his ost powerful incantations, a prayer made to shield against the living dead's corrupting touch. <br><br>"Do I want you? Aye. My soul burns for you, Lene. But maybe that is part of your power. To allure me with the temptations of the flesh, when naught but air or cold flesh resides. Were I to take up your offer, I would see it or the illusion it is..." And with that, he leaned forward to kiss the spectre, one hand circling about long-dead woman's waist. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>16-10-2013, 20:14:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>Lene's eyes glittered a bit as Kovac invoked his power, raising her head as if bracing for some challenge, but she did not retreat.&nbsp; What he had done, she did not know, but she felt no threat from him, no danger beyond what was posed by wit and brawn which she did not completely discount.&nbsp; Ordinary men could do little to drive her away so close to that which held and sustained her, but Kovac was no ordinary man.<br><br>She had been alone and hungry for too long.<br><br>His words of want were like the sweetest, coldest water after an unimaginable drought.&nbsp; The spirit inhaled the breath that had carried them, letting it warm her, and the last vestige of her ghostly appearance solidified, heated, so that when Kovac's hand met her waist and his lips touched hers, there was no sensation other than skin upon skin, the fabric of Lene's gown as soft and fresh as if she had donned it mere moments before.<br><br>Lene savored the kiss, tasting the sweetness of life upon Kovac's lips, the faint remnant of the wine he had drunk, even the faint, sweet nectar of another that still remained, heady reminder of the pleasuring she had witnessed and so hungered to join.&nbsp; For the moment, though the ache for him had blossomed into an aching blaze within her, she did not give in to her own desires completely.<br><br>Instead, she drew back just enough to break the kiss, for him to feel the memory of breath upon her lips, and reached for his hand.&nbsp; Her fingers were slender and warm, the fingers long and supple with nails stained the color of roses, and they covered his as they guided his hands to the full curve of a breast beneath the soft reality of the thin linen and shaped his hand to cup and fit its fullness.&nbsp; <em>"Does this seem illusion, sweet priest?&nbsp; In this bed, I live as surely as do you, and my body burns for yours."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>21-10-2013, 04:01:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac had spent nearly half his life hunting the undead. Year after year, he’d stared unblinking into the gaping mouth of the afterlife and all the horrors it had promised. He’d borne his wounds, but had always emerged victorious. And yet now, seated on the bed, the spectre of what had once been Lene Godefroy, Kovac knew defeat. He had conjured wards around himself to protect from any corrupting attack, but he’d made no protection against his own will. Perhaps he did not want to bolster his resistance. Perhaps he wanted to give in. But speculation ceased to matter as he pressed his lips against hers.&nbsp; <br><br>At first, he’d thought that he would simply pass through her form, like a bird passing through a cloud. Or maybe they would yield as if she were no more substantial than gauze. But instead he felt flesh, true flesh, and his fingers scratched down the length of her gown as he kissed her.&nbsp; When she pulled away, there was more than a hint of disappointment in the warrior-priest’s eyes. He needed no encouragement as she guided his hand to her breast, and his strong, calloused hands squeezed, hungrily, roughly.<br><br>He made no answer to her question of whether she was an illusion. No answer needed to be made. His response was plain in the fire in his eyes and the heat of his body. His thumb found her nibble and he began caressing it in tight circles. His lips went to her collarbone, kissing and nibbling at the soft flesh where neck met shoulder. His free hand worked to remove that thin linen garment from between him and Lene. After all, he’d faced the living dead before—he saw no need to run away now. As it was, he doubted he’d even be able to leave the bed until he’d satisfied this strange but undeniable new lust. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>22-10-2013, 19:53:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>Beneath his hands and mouth, the revenant of Lene seemed as human as Hilda, and as responsive and eager.&nbsp; Her head tilted to allow free access to the warm softness of her neck, and she cried out softly in unmistakable pleasure at his touch, or perhaps at his surrender to the hungers that drove them both.&nbsp; Her expression as she looked toward the shadows of the ceiling was exultant, triumphant, with an undertone of terrible need that would at long last be met.<br><br>Warm, firm flesh yielded to the press of his hand and lips, and the linen ties of her gown yielded as readily to his hands, too readily, so that the cloth slipped away at the first tug, baring pale, unblemished skin to his lips and then hands.&nbsp; Beneath the gown, she wore nothing at all, and the remainder of the cloth slid away as her arms went around him and pulled them both back upon the bed with surprising strength.&nbsp; <br><br>His weight pushed her body into the soft down of the mattress, pressing soft curves hard against his frame.&nbsp; If she were discomforted by this, she gave no sign.&nbsp; Her hands were hurried and eager, as hungry as her eyes as they slid beneath the hem of his nightshirt.&nbsp; Her body undulated in serpentine fashion, moving them both so that her flat palms caressed his skin as hands pushed upward, divesting him of his clothing in wanton abandon as her breath came in soft, almost silent, eager gasps and pants. <br><br>As soon as they both were naked upon the bed, her hand again found his, closing over his caressing fingers and pressing them hard against the hard, wonderfully hot tip before once again guiding his caress down the gentle curve of her stomach, through soft, crisp curls as black as her hair, to the dusky rose-tinted lips at the joining of her thighs.&nbsp; Her other hand tangled in the soft locks of his hair, pulling his head up so that she could gaze hungrily into his eyes as their entwined fingers slipped into the heated moist folds that parted eagerly in welcome.&nbsp; The heady scent of lavender filled the air around them, as if their tryst took place under a bower of spring blossoms, as Lene's hips rocked against the touch of her own hand, and Kovac's.<br><em><br>"So long," </em>she breathed.&nbsp; <em> "Touch me, taste me ... take me." </em> Somewhere between an entreaty and order, the words were husky with desire and hunger, as her dark eyes feasted upon the desire and lust in his expression as her fingers tightened upon his.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>27-10-2013, 05:29:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For the second time in that long, torrid night, Kovac’s blood burned hot as a pitch-fire. His hands tore at the loose fabric of her gown, and he was unsurprised to find her bare underneath. What more could surprise him, in this strange hour? He was beyond surprise, beyond reason. Hilda was not in his mind now, not in this moment. There was only the fragrance of lavender, the caress of Lene’s skin against his, smooth as silk whispering over his scarred flesh. His tongue glided across the hollow of her throat, and he nipped the flesh, first gently, then roughly. It mattered not that the flesh that yielded to the clench of his white teeth was in truth as insubstantial as thought. It mattered not that that the being in whose arms he found himself was one that he was sworn as a servant of Lathander to destroy. All that mattered was his need, his desire for her, whoever she was, whatever she may be. <br><br>The air was cold on his skin as she stripped him of what little clothing he’d retained, but the heat of his desire quickly made him heedless to the night’s chill. His kisses and bites traveled down her skin until he came to her breasts, and with a low, bestial growl, he took first one nipple into his mouth, then the other. His hands scratched her pale skin, and then grabbed at her buttocks. The feel of her in his hands drew another low growl from the man. His mouth left her breasts, his breath still hot on her nipples, and he lowered himself further still on the bed, laying her on her back. <br><br>“Yes...” Kovac’s voice was barely above a whisper as he answered he plea to take her. His face hovered above her sex, and his head dipped as if in prayer, though her body was the only altar that concerned him. His lips were but a fraction of a hand’s breath away from her sex, and yet he paused. And instead of giving her he release she craved for, he lifted his head away. But there was no hesitation in his actions, no sign in his fluid movements that he’d had second thoughts about this unholy tryst. Instead he moved with a dance’s grace, pivoting his body. He stopped once he was aligned inverted to her, his hardness near her mouth, heat radiating from his manhood. The, and only then, did he taste her flower, and he lapped at her, the strokes of his tongue growing ever bolder as he anticipated her taking him in his mouth. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>29-10-2013, 22:39:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>Lene's soft laughter rang out in the stillness of the room as Kovac's desire clouded his thoughts and guided his actions.&nbsp; &nbsp;It had been so long, and the heat of his body was maddening.&nbsp; Around them, the temperature dropped still further, until Kovac's breath condensed and the heat emanating from his engorged manhood and Lene's eager vee rose in nearly invisible waves.<br><br><em>"Yes," </em>she echoed his whisper, her eyes dark with hunger as he moved above her, but no surprise.&nbsp; The spirit hesitated not at all, but took what was offered as a drunkard lunged for a goblet of wine after a long period of aching dryness.&nbsp; One soft, incredibly warm hand closed about his hard, throbbing shaft and guided its tip to her warm, ruby lips where her tongue delicately flicked out to taste him, his sex still bearing the faint sweetness of his earlier coupling.&nbsp; <br><br>She had watched from the shadows as Kovac's bright, bobbing head had dipped and nuzzled between Hilda's soft white thighs, aching with memories and need, and had hungered for him.&nbsp; She would waste no time gorging upon the feast he offered, and as her head tilted and rose to engulf his hardness between the eager press of her lips, her own hips tilted and rose to meet his caress.&nbsp; She shuddered with delight as his softly rough tongue lapped and explored her tender folds, and her arms snaked about his bare thighs to hold him steady as her mouth raised to engulf him, lowered to rake down his length.<br><br>There was nothing virginal or tender in the caress of the spirit's mouth; living or dead or somewhere in between her body demanded from her mortal lover as much as she gave.&nbsp; Her legs spread eagerly to receive his caress, parting the lips of her sex softly as if in anticipation, and from the first intrusion of his stroking tongue her hips mimicked the rise and fall of her head.&nbsp; The scent of lavender was softly intoxicating, drawn in with every breath and intensified by the heat of their body's joining and arousal, while the room's chill encouraged their hungers and discouraged tenderness and any thoughts of slow exploration.<br><br>Lene's surging hips ground against his lips and tongue; the suck of her mouth was relentless as he slipped from the hot, wet heat of her kiss, the lap of her tongue over pulsing veins and ridges soothing and hungered.&nbsp; The sounds emerging from her lips were muffled, but loud nonetheless, unbridled expressions of joy and rising need, and the mattress groaned its soft encouragement beneath them&nbsp; as the moonlight broke through the clouds to bathe them in its silvery cool light.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>03-11-2013, 04:09:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His hips ground against her, driving his sex deeper into her mouth. He needed her, needed the heat of her lips and tongue on his manhood was like nothing he’d ever felt. Like nothing human. But those complex moral questions, those doubts about whether he was committing an abomination here in a house he’d agreed to protect, had flown out the window as surely as the moonlight now poured in. <br><br>And even as he nearly lost himself in the pleasure of her mouth, he sated his own hunger on the folds between Lene’s long, silken legs. He lapped at her nectar as if he were starving, and in the fog of his passion he wasted no time musing on just how true that was. How long had he forced solitude onto himself? How long had he taken to the road rather than confront the rowing darkness within himself?&nbsp; All he felt now was the need deep within him, and the caress of Lene’s body that answered that yearning. His tongue-strokes danced between splendid pressure and teasing lightness, almost pulsing as steadily as his own heartbeat. He drew spirals on her sex with his mouth, searching for something she’d respond to, then continuing that, ever adapting to the shifting rhythms of their forbidden congress. <br><br>At last, with aching slowness, he pulled his face away from her sex, and even more slowly, even more reluctantly, pulled himself from the eager embrace of her mouth. The taste of her had been sweeter than he could have thought possible, but now he yearned to take her fully, to make this creature his, whomever or whatever she might truly be. He raised himself up onto his knees, and then his hands reached for Lene, bidding her to take her place before him, on her hands and knees to be taken from behind. Kovac seized a handful of her dark hair in his strong grip, and poised his throbbing manhood against her sex, teasing her but not penetrating, not yet. <br>“Tell me how much you want it,” Kovac rasped as he leaned forward. “Tell me how much you want me.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>05-11-2013, 23:21:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>Her father had been much interested in the subject of ghosts and spirits, particularly after his wife had died, leaving him with two half-grown girls to raise in the company of servants.&nbsp; Before circumstances had become such that she was left with no choice but to take notice, she had cared nothing for those who had passed.<br><br>She had been too young when her mother died, and too much under the care of her nurse and nanny even then to feel the depths of loss; too, she had her sister, her twin, and it was enough.&nbsp; If she had been asked, she would have likely said that ghosts felt nothing after their death - how could they?&nbsp; Yet now, she knew that ghosts could feel many things, particularly hunger for all the things that they could no longer experience, save when a mortal like Kovac entered their sphere.<br><br>Hunger she had felt, and now she felt every exquisite movement that eased and fed that hunger, every taste, every scent, every tremble; every moan from Kovac's lips or her own, every gasp, every acknowledgement was a symphony, a ball, a feast.&nbsp; The mortal man was a generous lover; his earlier romp with sweet Hilda had not dulled his appetite in the least.&nbsp; His tongue drew out shuddering sensations that began in the aching center of her sex and radiated outward with heat that made her shiver and quake, and moan with delight around the hot pulse of his sex against her tongue, against her teeth.<br><br>Though she had spoken truly that she did not seek his life force, she fed upon the sheer sexual energy of their union, letting it drive the cold from her fully until she felt radiant with heat, pulsing with heat and life as her body remembered the thrill of climax and his wonderfully agile tongue drove her toward it.&nbsp; He was as filled with need and hunger as she, with only a little grey bitterness of doubt, and as her lips closed around him with hot, slow suction and the eager laps of her tongue, the scrape of her teeth shielded by the softness of her lips,&nbsp; For a time, she was vibrant with life, and Lene reveled in it, in his touch, his taste, in the feel of his body against her, inside her.<br><br>A soft sound of hungry protest escaped her lips as he pulled free, leaving her burning and aching, but she didn't resist the pull of his hands.&nbsp; She moved as he bade her, eyes wide and dark as her hair spread out upon the sheets one moment and then kneeling before him in a position that should have suggested supplication, but there was strength in the hunger of her eyes as she turned to regard Kovac as he spoke, demanded.<br><br>Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her look teasing challenge between half lowered lashes as she smiled back at him.&nbsp; <em>"I want you more than life itself.&nbsp; I have waited a lifetime and more to be taken by you.&nbsp; I yearn for you, to feel you hard with want inside me, to hear my name upon your lips as you claim me."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>10-11-2013, 03:59:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hearing her beg for him, hearing her echo a need that spanned the rise and fall of generations, stripped any doubt that was left in his mind. One hand pulled at a handfull of her lush, dark air, while another clamped onto her hip as his manhood first pressed against the folds of her sex, then thrust inside her, inside a world that even a worldly man like Kovac had yet to discover. But once he was inside her, the sound he made was anything but human. <br><br>With Hilda he had been no shy maid, but Lene aroused something more animal in him, something darker. His hands, at times like vices, at times like claws, raked up and down the flanks of Lene’s body as she bent before him, accepting his manhood.&nbsp; In the cold light of dawn he might look back on this moment with regret, but those thoughts made little difference now. <br><br>There was nothing, slow, nothing gentle about how he treated Lene. Nothing that could be called lovemaking. When he drove into her, it was an act of savagery, not love. His entire body, muscles, scars and all, seemed to move in concert, the fulcrum of his thrusts. Every stroke sent him as deep within her as he could go. He reveled in her sex wrapped around him. He was now fully unburdened by questions of life or death or unlife, whatever she was&nbsp; <br><br>He released his iron grip on her hair, but this was no reprieve. He seized her by the waist, and pulled her up onto her knees.The muscles of his abdomen pressed against the soft swell of her back once he'd pulled her perpendicular to the bed, still piercing her from behind.&nbsp; Living and dead were one there in the moonlight. A union of oppositions never meant to have been.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>13-11-2013, 20:02:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>Kovac's breath in the moonlit room fogged slightly before his face as hands tangled in long, dark hair and used it to pull the ghost of Lene Godefroy's head up, holding her steady as their bodies slid seamlessly into the position for joining.&nbsp; &nbsp;There was no similar reaction to the cold from Lene's mouth - she seemed not to even encompass the memory of breathing, but her slick folds were hot as with fever, taking away the steadily growing chill of the atmosphere as he impaled her.&nbsp; Her voice joined with his in a primal, unearthly wail of need.<br><br>Lene's body, or the approximation of it that she wore even in death, was lithe and strong.&nbsp; Muscles that had firmed and toughened through hours of riding, countless afternoons of striding across the countryside, held a croquet mallet and a bow with equal ease, remembered the condition of living, and held firm against each hard thrust of his hip, pushing back so that his length drove deep.<br><br>There was the memory of pain as fingers bit into her, back, hip, waist, but it was old and muted and dry as the dustmotes that swirled in the air about them, glinting in the moonlight as the harsh movements of bodies stirred the air. His grunts of effort punctuated the slap of flesh meeting flesh, not the memory of it, joined by Lene's soft, almost purring words of encouragement as she savaged her, affirmations as his thrust drove home, accepting all and demanding more.<br><br>As he pulled her up her knees before him, their bodies still joined, perspiration from the heat generated running down Kovac's chest and wetting the pale curves of Lene's soft, unbruised flesh, her head turned, lips and teeth raking against his jaw, and her fingers and nails dug into the iron of his arms encircled around her, marking him with her passions like a cat lazily sharpening its claws upon a new addition to its territory.<br><br>The room around them was cold as winter, as evidenced by each panting breath that Kovac took, and the sweat of his body clammy where the air touched, but could not touch where their bodies met and joined. <em> "Say my name, priest of Lathander," </em>she whispered against his earlobe, her neck stretched and bare and deceptively fragile as she nuzzled him, nipped with her teeth.&nbsp; There, as she spoke, her breath ruffled his hair, kissed at his skin, like heat rising off a stone midday in the midst of summer.&nbsp; <em>"Drive away the darkness."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>20-11-2013, 06:18:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The heat of her womanhood made him nearly oblivious to the sudden chill in the room. He was no stranger to noble-born women, with their soft bodies and courtly ways. But there was nothing oft or courtly about Lene’s body. His skin slid against hers, and he reveled in the tightness of her muscles and the limberness of her arms as they reached for him and her legs as they spread for his ex. Nothing but a thin sheen of sweat separated the living and the dead. This was no noble as he knew them, no leisurely socialite. No, this was a woman. <br><br>But there was a common thread between the woman who now bent before him and the other nobles he’d taken—there was a streak of anger in hi lovemaking, something dark, something hateful. Despite hi sophistication and his riches, at heart he was still a commoner from Gundarak, another peasant to be ground under the heels of corrupt rulers. And living or not, Lene was a part of that ruling class, and so he was not gentle with her, not gentle at all as he pulled her on to her knees, forcing himself even deeper inside her as they rose. <br><br>He made not a sound as he claws dug into him, but his eyes flashed with passion. The streak of lust mixed with aggression was only magnified by the vast difference between them. The heat between her legs was real enough, hot as a furnace and wet as a bath. But even as he gave himself over to the ecstasy of the moment, he could not ignore the lack of steam coming from his lover’s “breath,” despite the chill of the room which had Kovac’s own breaths coming in great clouds. That should not have surprised him; he’d known what she was when he’d kissed her. And yet that small thing, that small lacking, hammered home the difference between them more than anything else. But he did not shy away, did not give in to what should have been his conscience or hi duty. Instead, this stark reminder of their forbidden tryst only excited him more, and he grew even harder and thicker inside her. <br><br>His masculinity drove up inside her now that they were both standing on their knees. His hands clamped around her waist, lifting her with each trust until he could feel her womb press tightly against the throbbing head of his member. His breath came in deep waves, his scarred, toned chess pressing flush with the curve of her back. When she pleaded for him to call her name, his breath suddenly became ragged. He wrapped one hand around her smooth belly and leaned his head close to hers. His wild hair brushed at the top of her neck, and his lips brushed gently against her ear before biting down on the lobe. “Yes, Lene. Yes, Lady Godefroy. Lose yourself around me.” He gave a low growl, a wolf’s growl, and his next words held no obfuscating poetry. “Do it now, Lene. Come on my cock.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>26-11-2013, 23:56:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br>As Kovac pulled her against him roughly, his arms like steel bands around her, Lene made no protest.&nbsp; If anything, his anger fed that which animated her, strengthened her to withstand and revel in every thrust until they moved in unison.&nbsp; He had no fear of what she was, and she could feel the darkness in him surge up in excitement as their bodies joined and spirits collided.<br><br>Memories and the reality of the present met and merged as she felt him respond to her, the resistance giving way to a hunger that he had loosed fully.&nbsp; His hand cupped the gentle curve of her stomach, almost tenderly, as if in tribute to her womanhood as his breath signalled the surrender.&nbsp; His lips were suddenly soft, gentle, against her ear, and just as suddenly she felt the hard bite of teeth bring both pleasure and pain that fused both into an almost unbearable sweetness as she heard her name from his lips.<br><br>She shuddered, shivered, as the room grew colder still against the unnatural heat of her skin that emanated from her core.&nbsp; That heat chased the chill from his skin, enveloped him from his cock outward, and when she cried out her exultation, a pillar of white fog erupted from her lips and roiled outward and up as she screamed his name like a shout of triumph.&nbsp; Her sex clenched and tightened around his shaft in pulsing tremors, almost painfully tight, as her fingers raked down his arms, nails leaving marks behind that stung but did not rend.<br><br>She came, her hips grinding and undulating against the hard press of Kovac's thrusts, her cry rising to the moon like a howl, in accompaniment to his growl as she felt the spurt of his seed within her depths, liquid heat that warmed them both, and spread out to the air around them until the chill was but a memory.<br><br>She hung there for a moment, suspended, and then her head turned toward Kovac's.&nbsp; Her eyes, dark as coals against the paleness of her face, glittered in the dim light of the moon, and a glimmer of moisture on her cheeks caught the light... and then she was gone, with nothing more than the imprint of her knees upon the bed and the slick heat of her juices left cooling upon his thighs and shaft, mixing with the sweat that had gathered where their bodies had met.<br><br><hr><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>The night was silent, the memory of her cries still lingering in his ears, as the sound of footsteps hurrying down the hallway brushed them away.<br><br>Hilda's voice, alarmed and humming with concern, and the sound of her knock upon the thick wood of the door, returned the noises of the night, the wind blowing against the eaves, the chirp of crickets, to harmonize with his own labored breathing.<br><br><em>"Kovac?&nbsp; Are you well?" </em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>02-12-2013, 05:01:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the heat of their shared passion reached its climax, Kovac had to fight to keep from screaming Lene's name aloud in the darkness. His manhood throbbed inside her, filling her incorporeal womb with his seed. The whole of his body tensed, unified in motion by those few moments of bliss. And when he fell back onto the bed, his arms tightened around Lene's form to pull her down with him. But when his scratched and marked back hit the mattress, his arms closed only around the chill night air where Lene's material form had been. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br><br>He lay there, for how long he had no way of knowing. Only the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he drew cold, dagger-sharp air into his lungs. The breath he exhaled was no more substantial than the women he'd just taken as if she were some common strumpet. But only after the deed had been done, after he'd given himself to a creature he'd sworn to hunt down, did the enormity of his indiscretion strike him. <br><br>The Morninglord was not a prudish god, not one to make his servants bow and scrape at the altar of chastity. No, virtue for Lathander included living life to its fullest, taking the pleasures of life as they came, so long as they brought harm to none. He contemplated that as he stared up at the ceiling, his breaths still ragged. Who had been hurt? He'd let his guard down, true. He wasn't proud of that. But all he'd done was give the spirit what it wanted. Wasn't that supposed to be what ghosts and spectres were supposed to crave, the thing that would quell them? Perhaps he'd even done a fair bit of good by taking Lene into his bed--or her bed, as fate had it. But those were details. In the end, who indeed was harmed? <br><br>Just then, he heard Hilda's voice, and his self-serving justifications cracked and fell away like shattered glass. He stood, throwing his pants on as quickly as he could, and at the same time whispering the words for a spell to heal his body of the makrs and scratches Lene had left on him. <br><br>"Hilda!" His smile was bright when he opened the door. "Wicked dreams, I fear. Memories of frightful encounters long past. Whether it was one of the spirits trying to reach out to me, or my own mind, I do not know. But I think I am well enough. And you? Is your sleep undisturbed?" <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>11-12-2013, 18:11:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>There was a slight chill in the room, and the faintest trace of ozone and lilac, prickling against Kovac's skin as he stood bare-chested in the door, a lingering reminder of his illicit passion.<br><br>Hilda stood there, her eyes wide and worried, with a contrastingly innocent robe of green pulled tight and cinched at her waist with a tasseled tie.&nbsp; When she saw that Kovac was not endangered, her posture softened and relaxed, and she heaved a long sigh of relief as her lips curled into an answering smile.<br><br>"Oh, good.&nbsp; Not, of course, good that dreams disturb your sleep, but I feared ... the tales of the villagers and their evil omens."&nbsp; She shook her head wryly, the smile lingering as her gaze slid down the chiseled contours of Kovac's chest and then away while her color heightened.<br><br>"I slept as soon as my head touched the pillow - it was almost as if I were in my bed at home." &nbsp;As she realized what she said, her chin raised and the smile took on a faintly satisfied, proud cast, and she chuckled. &nbsp;"I guess that's because this IS home."&nbsp; <br><br>With that statement, her stance underwent another subtle transformation, and the awkward way she was avoiding looking at Kovac's bare flesh smoothed away, and her gaze became more bold, though mostly she still sought his face.<br><br>"I should leave you to your sleep ... or would you like me to stay?&nbsp; Even when dealing with the spirit realm, there can be more safety in numbers, so long as fear does not take control."<br><br>While there was honest concern in her offer, so to was the knowledge of what had passed between them before, and her own uncertainty as to what it might have meant.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>14-12-2013, 23:45:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac’s face reddened at nearly the same time that Hilda’s did, though his blush was tainted with guilt.&nbsp; After Lene had disappeared, he’d had but a few heartbeats before he’d heard Hilda’s knock, and those few heartbeats had been pregnant with guilt. Normally, the time after release was Kovac’s favorite part of lovemaking, the part where he would lay entwined with a lover. They were some of the only times when he’d felt comfortable, felt like he could truly connect with another person, and pretend he wasn’t estranged from the world itself. But there had been none of that after his congress with Lene. Only shame, shame which he felt keenly once more as Hilda looked upon him. <br><br>“I envy your sleep, then,” he told her truthfully. “But you are right, I think. This is your home, if there be spirits, and I think we know that to be true, would they not welcome you? Protect you, even?” He shook his head. “We’ve much to learn tomorrow.” And as he spoke, he wondered if her sleep had been somehow magically induced. <br><br>When she looked back up at him, he saw something in her eyes, something that told of the time they’d spent together so recently. “I’d rather not be alone. Perhaps they are only dreams, but I’ll be no good to anyone if I’m too distracted to sleep well. But this room,” he said, waving a hand towards Lene’s bedchamber. “Something of it sits ill with me. I would join you in the other room, if you’d have me.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>17-12-2013, 23:03:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br><em>"Not all families are bound together by love, and depending on the circumstance, might rather see a family destroyed than have those who come after them succeed where they had failed." </em> Hilda's words were sad, but she was speaking from more true experience than she would like -- yet even so something of what she had said seemed to sit ill with her, for her brow continued to be puckered, her gaze troubled.<br><br>When Kovac said that he would like not to be alone, though, the confusion and disquiet drained from her expression to be replaced by a quiet happiness, not untouched by a gleam of womanly satisfaction that women of all ages seemed capable of donning no matter their age or station.<br><br><em>"Of course.&nbsp; I ... I would like that.&nbsp; Something of this room seems ... unsettled.&nbsp; I would not like to sit in judgement of another, but it seems very ... bold.&nbsp; Yet I know that not all lands view that which passes between man and woman in the same light.&nbsp; Do you suppose my relative married someone from one of those places?&nbsp; &nbsp;I wonder why we have seen nothing of her, and why the townsfolk speak only of the father and daughters?"</em><br><br>She caught herself, and laughed a little, shrugging her shoulders apologetically.&nbsp; <em>"But there are so many possibilities.&nbsp; It does no good to think of what might have been, without some clearer clue.&nbsp; Tomorrow we will begin on the trail in earnest.&nbsp; We will have an answer to the mysteries that hold this place."</em><br><br>Without the slightest self-consciousness, Hilda offered Kovac her hand, and smiled up at him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>20-12-2013, 04:41:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The smile on Kovac's lips when he'd explained his discomfort had been one of deception. Not a thing that Kovac liked to admit to himself, but one needed no delusions when he himself was holding back so much of the truth. Yet when he saw happiness touch Hilda's face, all deception sublimated from his smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as his gaze met hers. Perhaps he could elude this dangerous game he'd begun playing, and return to the all-too-brief pleasure that had been lying in Hilda's arms.<br><br>But her words also reminded him that they had a job to do, and more, that he'd still seen nothing of Lene's fairer sister, or any of the other guests for that matter. "Yes, a curious thing. If this place is haunted...and I have no doubt that it is, how many spirits haunt it? Only the sisters? Their father as well? And what of the many guests, and that stranger?" He shook his head, "I am thinking in circles now. We've much to seek out when the morning comes. You are right; tomorrow we'll begin the trail."<br><br>He took her hand without hesitation then, and started as soon as he could for the other bedroom. Yes, there'd be much to investigate in the morning, much to speak with the Morninglord about in his daily hymns, and much forgiveness to ask before he dug himself a grave too deep to leap out of.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>29-12-2013, 15:11:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br><em>"In the morning," </em>Hilda agreed.&nbsp; Her eyes remained on his, and she did not so much as glance at the surroundings, and she did not suggest that he dress himself further but simply led the way back to the room she had claimed for her own as if the mantle of 'master of the manor' had settled in comfortably on her shoulders.<br><br>In the room that had belonged, presumably, to Lene's sister, Hilda had apparently spent a bit of time getting settled in rather than going right to sleep.&nbsp; Her traveling case was open, and some personal items had been neatly laid out upon the dressing table, joining the previous occupant's things rather than replacing them.<br><br>A large silver candleabra sat upon the room's small table, burning brightly with a warm, golden light and the drapes were pulled against the moonlight, though Kovac could hear the sounds of the wind scraping tender branches against the eaves aes, nd the shutters.<br><br>The bed covers had been pushed back, presumably when Hilda rose, but even so the sheets were wrinkled and messed, hardly indicative of a mere peaceful slumber.&nbsp; The air had a slight odor of staleness about it, though it was overlaid by the musky scent of dried flowers and herbs that lingered most strongly near the side of the bed, where Hilda had hung a sachet.&nbsp; Too, there was another lingering scent that teased at Kovac's nostrils as she led him into the room and shut the door behind them -- the sweet musk of joining, perhaps a remnant of their earlier activities below in the parlor, or a reminder of illicit visitations as his conscience reasserted itself.<br><br>Hilda seemed to notice none of it.&nbsp; Without hesitation, she moved to the candles and blew them out softly one by one, until her form blended without shadow into the darkness.&nbsp; A soft rustle of fabric heralded the removal of her robe, and then the warmth of her fingers curled around his as she led him to the bed and pulled him down beside her to the contrasting sensations of the chilled sheets and the heat of her body.<br><br>Surely it was nothing more than imagination that made the soft rasp of twigs against the house and shutters sound like soft, dry laughter as Hilda's arms slid trustingly about Kovac's waist and her leg snaked over his, her head pillowed upon his shoulder.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>02-01-2014, 21:08:21</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				He should have felt better in this new room, removed from temptation. Yet there was something in the air that kept him from feeling completely at ease. Maybe it was just a mix of imagination and his own sense of guilt. Or perhaps a sense of awkawardness that inevitably arise when two lovers see each other again after their first time together. And gods, had it not even been a full day since they’d first met? <br><br>But then he saw the rumpled sheets, and caught the scent of...something in the air, and his mind turned down a darker path. What if Hilda’s slumber had been nterrupted in the same way his had been. Had some other specter crept into this room to seduce her, just as Lene had done with him?<br><br>Kovac tried to shake that thought from his mind as he lay onto the bed—he could see no end to that line of inquiry. It would be better to plunge into that in the morning. And so he wrapped one arm around Hilda’s slender waist, and let sleep overtake him as his breath slowed to match the girl’s. <br><br>He awoke early, and with far too little sleep. He could nearly feel the bags under his eyes, but Kovac had to awaken with the dawn. He had little choice in the matter. He walked to a nearby window and drew back the curtains, letting the rose-red predawn light bathe his face and bare chest. And as the sun crested the horizon, the battle-priest prayed to his god for guidance. Not forgiveness, not for any balm for his guilty conscience, only for enough wisdom to do the bloody job right this time. <br><br>When he was done, he turned once again to face Hilda, touching her lightly on her arm. “Are you awake? If so, my lady, we’d best get to work.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>08-01-2014, 23:12:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>Hilda seemed unaware of the undercurrents, and she chattered as they made the few adjustments necessary for Kovac to join her in the bed that had presumably belonged to the fair-haired daughter of the house.&nbsp; &nbsp; She spoke of other nights getting ready for bed, of cold winter evenings near the coast where she had filled a flatiron with coals from the fire to warm the sheets ... of saying her prayers beneath the blankets and feeling guilty because the Darlings would have disapproved.&nbsp; Already, it seemed, Hilda had left that life behind, for she spoke of her foster parents now a bit differently than she had at first.&nbsp; &nbsp; A diffidence that she had used when uttering their names before had fled, lost somewhere in the realization of her birthright, and while they might still figure in this new life, listening to her it seemed certain that her foster parents would find the dynamics of the relationship changed.<br><br>She slept on, her breathing all but silent as Kovac began and completed his morning devotions.&nbsp; So still did she slumber that, had it not been for the warmth of her skin against his fingers when he touched her, a strong man might be forgiven for a moment of worry.&nbsp; Yet, she woke easily enough, and gazed up at him with wide, confused eyes that held a trace of fear before she remembered.&nbsp; In the pale light of the Morninglord's dawn, Hilda blushed red as a rose and pulled the blankets about her protectively before the past and present diverged.<br><br>She was still flushed a moment later as she pushed up and slid from beneath the covers, a trace of awkwardness in her stance in her thin nightgown before she collected herself enough to meet his eyes with a faintly apologetic air.&nbsp; <em>"Yes, we must not waste the light, must we?"</em><br><br>Hilda slipped into a dressing gown, pulling it resolutely over her garments ... and by the doing, regained much of her certainty and poise.&nbsp; &nbsp;<em> "We should dress, and meet downstairs to refresh ourselves.&nbsp; I would suggest we begin downstairs ... perhaps in the drawing room?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>17-01-2014, 06:52:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				"Yes, I'll need a moment to gather my equipment. I suspect that whatever haunts this mansion will be less powerful in the daytime, but something still may try to resist your attempts to reach out--perhaps violently. But there are steps we can take, wards and barriers to keep them at bay." Or at least, it should in theory. And if the spells that had proven so useful against the walking dead turned out to be no match for ethereal spirits, then the Wrath of Lathander would surely suffice. <br><br>In Lene's room, he dressed hastily, dawning a shirt of chain over his clothes. Whether the unease he felt in the room was the lingering power of some malign spirit, or the mere shade of his own ambivalence about what happened, he did not know. <br><br>He was downstairs soon enough, sword and pistol slung low on his hips, a large silver disk representing a rising sun hung about his neck, clinging softly against the steel links of his chain shirt as he descended the stairs. "And so, Hilda, where would you like to begin? Point out the place, and I will start weaving my wards." All the while, he was careful to keep his eyes from gazing up at the portrait of the dark-haired twin. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>23-01-2014, 20:36:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda made her own preparations carefully, rummaging in the trunk she had brought with her and selecting items from it -- the necklace from her childhood, two small kits that held a variety of small items that she sometimes used to increase focus and provide an anchor or reference point to confused spirits, and after some thought, the first letter that she had received from the barrister informing her of her potential family connections and inheritance.&nbsp; <br><br>One section of the trunk held her books, gifts from the Darlings and from the society that they sometimes had worked with, as well as others whom her gifts had helped.&nbsp; From this stack, she withdrew a black tome with a cracked leather cover whose gilded title <em>'Taken Too Soon - The Trelayne Haunting and Other Vengeful Spirits'</em> and browsed through the familiar pages for a bit before adding it to her mall collection of items.<br><br>All that she might need she put into a battered leather satchel, and then sat down upon the bed and began her cleansing meditation.&nbsp; The room of her ancestress held no terrors for her -- from the first, she had felt only welcome here, so if she neglected certain rituals in preparation of her cleansing, it was surely that they were not needed.&nbsp; A feeling of peace flowed immediately over her&nbsp; and she smiled and let the ritual cleansing transport her to the place where worries, jealousies, and such could not climb.<br><br>A watcher might have noted small tremors and twitches that targeted her face, her arms, her hands, and her body, but Hilda was unaware of them, and there was none to see.&nbsp; When she rose, refreshed, she remembered only the peaceful tranquility of her cleansing.<br><br>She was smiling as she descended the stairs, and she had made her decision where best to begin. <em> "We will cleanse the entryway first, and then the study.&nbsp; It is there that I will first attempt to call a restless spirit -- The last attempt, the last cleansing will be in the dining room where so many left this realm. We should not venture there until the very last, when the cleansing is all but complete."</em><br><br>She took no notice of Kovac's discomfort, but her gaze upon him was warm and full of trust.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>01-02-2014, 18:42:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				He lay his sword on a nearby footstool, still unsheathed, still within close reach should man, beast, or monster interrupt their rituals.&nbsp; He began chanting, a low, almost guttural sound as he called out to his god in a tongue that may have been Luktar, or may have been something far beyond mortal reckoning. As he chanted, he knelt on the ground and began sketching symbols on the floor around Hilda in concentric circles. Sparks of sunrise-red light flew from his fingertips as he worked. Some of the circles bore symbols which could be clearly seen against the floor, glowing bright as coals but doing seemingly no damage to the house itself. Other runes left no visible trace, disappearing nearly as soon as he’d sketched them into existence.&nbsp; When he was through, rings of power circled Hilda. <br><br>“There,” he said as he stood, then wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. Evidently, the casting had taken slightly more out of Kovac than a casual observer might have thought. “These wards and protections should deflect those who would wish to harm you. Even if one ring fails, the others should hold fast.”<br><br>“And hold fast they will,” came a disembodied voice. <br><br>Kovac whipped his head around to see La Flamme hovering in a corner, near the ceiling, keeping well away from the priest and the medium. The ghost watched with a look of cool amusement in her eyes. <br><br>The priest growled, and took a step toward where his ensorcelled blade lay. “Remain where you are,” he said, though he suspected the spirit may try to attack from a distance if she so chose.<br><br>La Flamme responded with a derisive laugh. “Stay you hand, Dawnbringer. I am here to observe, nothing more. Reach out to your wards, do I test them.” <br><br>A far-away look momentarily seized Kovac, then he slowly shook his head. “No, I sense no disturbance in my wards.” <br><br>“And so you see I speak the truth.” The spectre turned to regard Hilda. “You are safe from me. Proceed, child.” <br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>05-02-2014, 23:39:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Kovac worked, Hilda sat cross-legged upon the floor, a book of meditations in her hand that she studied, running her fingers lightly upon the ink-drawn patterns described on its pages.&nbsp; As she read, and prepared herself for the first of the ordeals ahead, the determination in her face was replaced by an implacable serenity and peace.<br><br>Kovac's words brought her from her trance-like state, and she smiled at him softly as she watched him wipe his forehead.&nbsp; Even the words from Kovac's hovering shade did not dispel her calm, though there was a watchful kind of hardness in her expression as she looked from one to the other that settled oddly upon the youthful, unlined visage of her face.<br><br>An odd, uncertain wrinkling of her brow as the spirit gained her protector's permission to remain returned her to the state of expectant calm that she had entered into with her preparations.&nbsp; <em>"Very well.&nbsp; I ask that you both watch only, and do not speak or attempt to interact with any spirit that answers my summons ... and do not touch me unless the need is great."</em><br><br>Hilda again knelt upon the floor, settling her skirts around her modestly in a way almost laughably incongruous given the intimacy of their previous interactions, and painstakingly etched a circle upon the marble floor in chalk as she hummed softly to herself.&nbsp; The strokes of her hand was hesitant at first, but as she completed the pattern that had been illustrated in the book, it moved with the sure, unhesitating strokes of an artist as the humming changed to words.&nbsp; For those with experience in divine casting, the spell that Hilda cast seemed almost familiar, with elements of both protection and summoning.<br><br>With the last word, Hilda fell silent as her head tipped back and her mouth opened. She began to speak, in the manner of of a host welcoming guests, thanking them for coming and exchanging one-sided pleasantries with those with whom she ... or he, for her voice changed, as did her face, until it seemed that the faint mask of an older man, fleshier but not entirely dissimilar, rested above her face.<br><br><em>"Ah, Jasper, good to see you, young man.&nbsp; I trust that your father is well?&nbsp; He and I used to fish together in our younger days, and hunt, too."</em><br><br><em>"Never you mind.&nbsp; &nbsp;I see you've inherited your father's roguish streak.&nbsp; I'll trust that you know when to be a gentleman, just as he did.&nbsp; &nbsp;And who is this?&nbsp; A pleasure, Mr. Covenrood.&nbsp; You were but a boy in short pants the last time I laid eyes upon you - I trust that your journey was pleasant?"</em><br><br>Hilda rose as 'they' spoke, gesturing grandly and extending a hand,&nbsp; and the front entrance door opened and swung wide, as a group of ghostly figures, dressed in finery with only the hint of color staining their transparent forms, filed in and were welcomed.<br><br>The air chilled, until Kovac's breath hung on it like smoke.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>11-02-2014, 00:18:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was surprised to see Hilda work so meticulously in her incantations. Being so unfamiliar with the world of the spirits, he had thought her powers would be intuitive, little different from blinking or breathing. But as he watched her, he realized how wrong he had been. Even if Hilda has been born with certain talents, she had clearly put time and effort into learning formal spellcraft, and quite well, especially for one so young. Admist all the gloom and uncertainty of the task at hand, Kovac found himself smiling as he recognized a trace of both summoning magic and abjuration. Not that he lacked confidence in his own protective wards, but he admired the foresight with which she took an extra step—a step he’d likely not have thought to take, given his inexperience with what they were about to do. <br><br>As Hilda spoke cheerful words of welcome, Kovac’s response was anything but inviting. Instead, he took the talwar and slid it into his belt, and then drew it partway from its scabbard, a looming warning to any creatures who might wish to interfere. The light from outside shimmered across the hands-breadth of exposed steel, and Kovac could feel the blade almost vibrate with power. He hoped he would not have to use it, but he liked the feeling of having it nearby. At the same time, he flexed the fingers on his left hand, ready to unleash a flurry of spells should the séance take a turn for the worse. <br><br>Kovac studied Hilda’s face intently as she began to speak in the voice of those long dead, and for a moment he thought to respond, but that idea melted like a river in spring as he turned to see a flood of spectres enter the hall. He studied the crowd intently, his exhaled breath clung to the air like a cloud as he looked for faces he’d recognized. Who was Jasper? Was he the stranger buried in the tomb with Lene and her sister? And where were the sisters amidst this crowd? <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>12-02-2014, 20:39:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"Everything has been made ready for you, and the servants will have your bags brought to your room while you refresh yourselves before luncheon.&nbsp; Oh, they're still fussing over things, waiting for the perfect time to make an entrance.&nbsp; Patience, patience, young man ... all in good time ... all in good time."</em><br><br>The ghostly faces of those entering Stamford House could have been any, a scene familiar to any who interacted with the gentry -- sons of families of some wealth and position, well dressed and as pleasing to the eye as could be accomplished through good tailoring and good health, their frames marking them as brimming with health and untouched by the dissolutions of the truly powerful, the truly wealthy.&nbsp; Their smiles, reflections of lives that stretched out before them like a summer's day path, with few curves and no end in sight, seemed bright and sincere, if a tad awkward in the way of young men and women when they know they are being ever so genteelly evaluated.<br><br>And then Hilda, along with the spirit superimposed upon her features, straightened and frowned a little in confusion, though without anger or ill will. <br><br><em>"Ah, and who is this?"</em><br><br>The spirit crowd parted, and someone else entered.&nbsp; The chill in the air deepened, until gooseflesh creeped up Kovac's exposed skin, and the nails upon his fingers that held the hilt of his blade took on a bluish tinge around the half-moon of his cuticles.<br><br>This figure was different from the rest, dressed in finery that was ostentatious for a country party, even a country party of local gentry.&nbsp; The boots upon the figure's feet were heeled and reached high upon the calves, muscular yet slender legs clad in tight leggings that defined the structure beneath in a fashion that would have been unseemly if it were not for the length of the gold-buttoned jacket, and the cloak was black as night and bright as the moon -- or so it seemed in comparison, for the ghostly fading that plagued the other spirits had not taken hold of this one.<br><br>Yet this was not the only difference, for the final figure had no face, only an indistinct blobbish suggestion of features.&nbsp; The figure bowed low in front of Hilda, not offering his hand.<br><br><em>"Well then, welcome to Stanford House, my lord.&nbsp; My daughters will no doubt be perplexed a the un-evening of their numbers, but you are welcome here.&nbsp; &nbsp; Having traveled so far, of course we would have extended an invitation, and I am pleased that Mr. Covenrood did so on my behalf."</em><br><br>Whatever reply the spirit made, it was no more heard than the others had been, but instead of carrying on with the ghostly re-enactment, the figure turned its ghostly, undefined face toward La Flamme, then Kovac.&nbsp; In that gaze, Kovac felt the gnaw of hunger in the pit of his stomach, the dryness of endless thirst in his throat, and the urgent swell of his loins, as if the pleasures of the flesh had long been denied.<br><br>Hilda stiffened, and made a strangled sort of sound, raising both hands in a gesture of someone warding off an unwelcome presence, of denial.&nbsp; The spirit who spoke through her blew away like smoke, as did the tableaux of spirits around her, the final one a swirling cloud of brown and purple tinged blackness threading through the mists.<br><br>Hilda stood there for a moment, and then wilted down to the floor as her knees beneath her skirts crumpled.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>20-02-2014, 22:54:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac had seen dead bodies stand and walk more times than he’d like to have remembered, but the massive influx of disembodied spirits who now poured into Stamford House defined anything he had ever seen. He scanned each new face, casting about for some sign of a pattern, some sort of clue as to what had transpired. But instead he only saw face after ghostly face. <br><br>“Are these all souls who perished at Stamford House?” He directed the question to La Flamme, who still hovered in a corner. “Is this but an imprint of what transpired, or is she truly channeling ghosts? Did so many die in one fell swoop?” <br><br>La Flamme looked down from her place and grinned at him. “Unsettled now that the odds are in –our- favor, priest?” The red-haired spectre turned her gaze from Kovac to the throng of ghosts, looking upon the scene with amusement. And Kovac noticed, more than a little curiosity. <br><br>“Why do you not join them?” Kovac asked the hovering spirit. “You and they are of a kind, are you not? Then why do you hold back? The festivities await! You don’t fear them, do you?” <br><br>La Flamme’s scowl was almost imperceptible. “Priest, you are the one who keeps talking. A sure sign of fear.” She had opened her mouth to say something further, but her jaw went slack as she focused on one figure in particular. <br><br>Kovac turned to see what had made his personal spectre go so suddenly quiet. Kovac blinked hard at the faceless ghost, not so much because of its facelessness as by the aura that emanated from the being. It was as if the creature exuded desire, and even caused it. Kovac himself felt seized with a sudden yearning, a sudden needing that he could not define, but knew all too well. <br><br>“What the hell is that?” He asked aloud, tearing his gaze away from the faceless ghost and back to La Flamme. <br><br>The red-haired specture’s expression had now grown confused, then afraid. “I don’t know what in the hells that is...” That said, she backed away, disappearing into the walls, so eager was she to remove herself from the new and unsettling presence. <br><br>When the unearthly throng disappeared and Hilda collapsed to the floor, Kovac rushed to her side, his ensorcelled blade falling almost forgotten from bluish fingers. “Hilda, are you hurt? I think...I think I know more about the stranger who is buried in the tomb now...” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>25-02-2014, 22:48:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"He didn't understand.&nbsp; None of them did.&nbsp; I knew ... when I first saw you there, smiling up at me from the foot of the stairs ... that you'd come for me."<br><br>Hilda's voice was more like her own when she spoke as Kov​ac roused her, reminiscent of the night before when they had lain together, innocence overlain with an almost sleepy sultriness as she opened her eyes, the deep, deep blue orbs dilated and somewhat unfocused.&nbsp; She pushed herself up, away from Kovac's touch, as if it burned her.&nbsp; <strong>"You bastard!"</strong> she spat.&nbsp; <strong>"How could you?"</strong><br><br>Her eyes blinked again, rapidly and hard, and came back into focus as she shook her head and took a deep, shuddering breath.&nbsp; They lightened, as did the rest of her face, until she again looked like the determined young thing mulishly treading water out of her depths as she pursued her goals.<br><br>"Kovac?&nbsp; No, I'm not hurt.&nbsp; It just ... so much energy, so much.&nbsp; &nbsp;He wanted his daughters happy, grandchildren.&nbsp; It was to be a party, all the eligible young men from good families; he was so sure they would make a good match.&nbsp; He trusted ... I could feel ... he knew it was wrong but all reason said he could trust."<br><br>She shook herself again.&nbsp; "By the gods, what did they invite in?&nbsp; Such rage, such ... hunger.&nbsp; What?&nbsp; What do you know?"<br><br>Hilda shivered, hugging herself as she struggled back upright, yet still she could feel the warmth of the invading presence like the heat of the first day of true spring upon pale and shivering flesh.&nbsp; The temptation ... even with the wards she had set in place, she could feel it somewhere at the edge of her senses, drawing her toward the heat.<br><br>"Like a moth," she murmured.<br><br>She did not seem to notice that Kovac's bound spirit had departed, or if she did notice she did not inquire.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>27-02-2014, 22:16:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac's brow furrowed as he listened to Hilda talk of him smiling up at her, and then he frowned. No, that wasn't Hilda, that wasn't how they'd met. It must have been another ghost, one who'd been searching for the faceless spirit. Perhaps it was even one of the twins, perhaps even Lene...<br><br>And as soon as that thought struck him, so did Hilda’s accusation, with the force of mace swung at full strength. Of course, of course...in her ritual, she must have learned what the ghosts knew, including his encounter with Lene. He offered not a word in his own defense, and instead stood with his face held straight, like a pugilist waiting for the next blow. <br><br>Yet the next blow never came. It was with a certain sense of relief that he heard her explanation about the father. Here was level ground, here was a job to do, not guilt to dwell on. “I suspect you are right. There were many young men among them. But the force you felt, the one of rage and hunger, I do not think he was invited. I think he chose to invite himself, giving the father little choice. I do not know who that stranger was or where he came from, but he exuded lust, as if being near him was enough to spark a person’s worst passions. Who knows what chaos he must have wrought on that night?” <br><br>He spoke the truth as he knew it, and he spoke it calmly, like a scholar musing about some philosophical quandry. But his blood had turned to ice. Somewhere within the woman he stood before was Hilda, but where? She should have kept cursing him, should have beat at him with her small fists, or at least demanded that he explain himself, explain his own worst passions. But she hadn’t. <br><br>“One more spell,” he told her, “to ensure we are not being watched.” He said a prayer in Luktar, one which meant to reveal the presence of the undead. He scanned the room, looking for signs, but his true target was Hilda, to search for any hint of some spectre still in possession of the woman whom he’d betrayed.&nbsp; <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>28-02-2014, 21:47:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Adhara.jpg)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>​Hilda nodded, and pulled herself up.&nbsp; "I'll make ready for another contact ... in the parlor, I think.&nbsp; I do not wish to attempt the dining room ... or the tombs ... until we have a better idea of what we face." &nbsp;Her shoulders were straight, her eyes determined, and she smiled at Kovac with a face full of trust.&nbsp; &nbsp;"Thank you.&nbsp; I couldn't do this without you."<br><br>She didn't protest as he cast his spell, and when it was finished, he could see the traces of the undead in a trail leading from the front door up the stairs, the fading aura most strong at the entryway where the hapless father had greeted those he hoped would be good candidates for his daughters' hands.<br><br>As his eyes moved over toward Hilda, the residue of their passing was upon her as well ... but that was but a faint tracing of the contact.&nbsp; As he looked at her, he could see another presence deep within her, tendrils of it lacing through the delicate form so deep and complexly rooted that it seemed Hilda's own aura was under threat of over being overgrown and smothered.<br><br>Hilda finished her preparations, tucking her books and simples away in preparation for moving on from the entryway, and turned to see Kovac's progress.&nbsp; When she did so, Kovac could see the other within her, a pale shade with eyes as pale blue as winter skies, wearing a serene expression that conveyed both patience, hunger, and triumph.<br><br>Their eyes met, and though the spirit seemed to have no awareness that Kovac saw anything other than the pretty medium, she smiled - an expectant, smug expression that chilled the serene visage of the presence that had so deeply attached itself to Hilda. <br><br>In the juxtaposition, the resemblance between the three -- Hilda, Lene, and presumably Alys -- was undeniable.&nbsp; Hilda's expression did not falter in the slightest.<br><br>"Have you finished your preparations?" she asked softly, not wishing to disrupt if he had not.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>08-03-2014, 02:31:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Nor could I do it without you,” he answered her truthfully, though doubt battered his mind like a ram. “Yes, I think the parlor is a wise choice. Whatever we are dealing with, it is a force to be reckoned with. No sense in risking ourselves where the negative energy would be strongest, so best to avoid to dining room or the tombs until we know better.” All sensible, such cautious advice. But Kovac rarely listened to his own advice. <br><br>“My preparations are nearly complete,” he told her, then walked to where he’d dropped his talwar, and picked it up. He held its edge to the light, seeing that the sword bore nary a scratch, nary a nick. <br><br>“I claimed this sword from a wizard in Sri Raji who had clung to life long after his body had given up the struggle. Some say he was a Great Ghul, some say he was what scholars in the core would call a lich, but I never learned the truth. Nevertheless, the blade has served me well since then, and it cuts through beasts that not even the sharpest steel could penetrate. When I came here, I feared it would do me no good—could an enchanted blade harm a spirit, should the worst happen?” <br><br>“But there was something I had not even considered. I had not thought of what I would do if one of the ghosts possessed the body of a living person. What good would my weapons do me then, if it meant taking the life of an innocent?” <br><br>He slammed the talwar home in its sheath, and looked back at Hilda, gazing as if he could see through to the back of her skull. <br><br>“Which one are you then? Alys, I’d wager. I’d been wondering why I’d seen no sign of you. Very well then. No sense hiding it any longer. You’ve taken control of a lovely young woman there—by what right? Did you think I’d do your bidding more easily if you assumed control of Hilda? Well you have my attention now. Leave her out of this, and leave her body. And maybe, -maybe-, we can all make some sense of what in the abyss is going on here, together.” <br><br>He hoped he sounded in control. He hoped he sounded like a man who was used to this sort of thing. But nothing he’d encountered had prepared him for this, and everything that it implied, about he situation and himself, sent cold ripples through his body as he stared at Hilda and whatever inside her struggled for dominance.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>12-03-2014, 00:55:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Kovac?"&nbsp; Hilda's voice was completely her own, her expression bewildered and tinged with the first signs of alarm.&nbsp; She looked at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses, or, worse, perhaps he had been affected by the contact with the lingering spirits of the household.&nbsp; Her feet propelled her a step toward him, and then another and another before she came to a halt, lips parted and her eyes wide with concern.<br><br>Yet behind it, Kovac could still see the essence of the other, both where the spirit overlay Hilda's and where it merged with it, centered upon the midsection from the juncture of her legs upward to the torso.&nbsp; There was surprise in that secondary expression, as well as amusement and just a touch of anger to be so addressed.&nbsp; The presence smiled, nodded her head in a gesture of acknowledgement as Hilda's followed suit with a barely perceptible delay.<br><br>"By what right, you ask?&nbsp; &nbsp;By right of blood, and by right of bargain.&nbsp; You think highly of yourself, do you not?&nbsp; You ... were a convenience, a glass of wine after a long thirst ... and sweet did you taste." &nbsp; The spirit's bright, hungry gaze wandered familiarly over Kovac's face and lower, lingering where his pants hugged tightly to his hips.&nbsp; &nbsp;"She wanted you, yet left to her own devices she would have done little more than gaze at you longingly when your head was turned, and go to her bed burning in lonely silence."<br><br>She breathed in deeply, swelling Hilda's frame, and for a moment, Alys's control was complete.&nbsp; Even without the sight granted by his prayers, he could recognize the change -- recognize it both from the resemblance to the portrait of the fair-haired twin and from the previous evening when he had looked into Hilda's face transformed with what he had thought was awakened passion.<br><br>"Leave her out of this?&nbsp; Oh, would that I could ... but I yet need her.&nbsp; Guard her well, warrior priest, and she may leave once I have claimed what is mine ... if she survives, and if she indeed wishes to go."<br><br>Hilda, or her possessor, took a step forward, and staggered as her expression changed to one of confusion before she fell.&nbsp; &nbsp;The spirit within her could still be seen within her as a dark core of shadow, no matter Alys' once fair descriptor.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>15-03-2014, 04:08:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac listened as the spirit spoke through Hilda, his eyes burning like twin suns. He did not rise to its bait, and instead kept silent, a red blush rising in his face to match the fury of his eyes.&nbsp; How long had Alys been hiding within Hilda?&nbsp; Ever since they crossed the threshold into the house? Had his wards served as no protection at all? <br><br>It must have been some time before last night, that much was clear. If Alys was to be believed, she’d already been within Hilda by the time Kovac had bedded her. A chilling thought, but one which was mitigated by Alys’ telling him that Hilda truly had wanted him. So he may not have been a monster, but now he realized he’d been seeing only what he had wanted to see. <br><br>And there was another sobering realization that came with this new, horrific knowledge. If the spirits could possess Hilda, what would prevent them from possessing him as well? True, he had spells to prevent that sort of thing, but Kovac knew all too well that hostile undead within their own lairs had powers to circumvent even holy magic. And clearly, this was no simple communing with the dead. In one way or another, these spirits were hostile in Kovac’s eyes. <br><br>He knelt down to grab Hilda when she fainted, his grip sure despite the shakiness he felt in the rest of his body. “Are you there, Hilda, can you hear me? It’s worse than we thought, lass, much worse.” No sense lying to her, not again.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>18-03-2014, 21:45:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>Hilda roused slowly, her eyes unfocused like one pulled from a deep slumber before dreams had lost their hold. <br><br>"Oh.&nbsp; What happened?" &nbsp;Her fingers closed around Kovac's, the skin chill with an iciness that ran deep down into the skin, the grasp of an old woman whose blood ran chill instead of that of a woman whose girlhood had not completely been sloughed off. &nbsp;"No.&nbsp; It happens like that sometimes, when a spirit is particularly strong in its ties to the place or circumstances of its death.&nbsp; I feel so tired, drained."<br><br>Her head slumped weakly, and she pulled at Kovac's arm to leverage herself up, first to her knees and then to the shaky steadiness of one foot upon the marble beneath her.<br><br>"I'm sorry, Kovac, but I fear that I won't be able able to go on without a rest.&nbsp; Could you help me upstairs?"<br><br>Despite her obvious exhaustion, the words came strangely quickly, and with decision.&nbsp; There were doors in the depth of her gaze, doors that had been slammed shut, and some part of her guarded the opening with a fervor akin to desperation.&nbsp; Hilda was afraid, but the fear had been buried deep, and the lie that Kovac could not help but hear in her voice was not only for him, but for herself as well.<br><br>The scent of violets teased at his nostrils, and from somewhere beyond and above was the barely perceptible notes of a bow set to strings.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>20-03-2014, 00:29:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His arms wound tightly about her as she struggled to her feet, even though he wasn't sure who or what he was holding on to anymore. “The ties here are strong indeed. One of the twins has...plans for you. Alys, the one who looks more like you, I spoke to her, through your body. Does she possess you still? Did she merely use you as a conduit? Or does she lurk in the shadows, waiting for another chance? I don’t know, but you must be wary.” <br>“One of them must have invited the faceless stranger, and now I’m convinced it must have been Alys. Did she think he would take her away from all this?” He shook his head. “In a way, he did, and yet her spirit remains. If she wanted to find a life outside of Stamford House, that must be mind-twisting.” <br><br>He held her gaze when she asked for rest, and took a meaning beyond her mere words. “Yes, lets get you out of here, find you a place to lie down. But not in Alys’ room, or Lene’s. If their ties are as strong as you think, we don’t want them meddling.” <br><br>He continued to hold her close to him as he spoke, the light armor her wore doing nothing to disguise the rise and fall of his chest. His hands moved a fraction lower, a gesture that went beyond a desire to simply protect her. But he silently cursed when the smelled lavender and heard the unmistakable sound of someone preparing to play. What trick were they playing now.<br><br>“Come with me, we’ll find you a room.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>20-03-2014, 18:42:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>Hilda shook her head mutely, negating the possibility rather than questioning it, though there was a glimmer of something akin to fear in her expression for a moment before she quashed it. <em> "No, I only channel their voice.&nbsp; Only their voice, never other.&nbsp; Even when I have invited more, it has only been their voice."</em><br><em><br>"If the spirit were invited in by the rightful inhabitants, there would have been no restraints upon its power and none to order it gone.&nbsp; &nbsp;Oh, those poor, foolish girls."</em><br><br>She didn't protest as Kovac warned against the rooms of the twins, nor the closeness of the hands that held her.&nbsp; Rather, she sighed and slumped against him trustingly, and let him guide her up and away as he chose.<br><br>The scent of violets grew stronger in his nostrils, pungent and overpowering.&nbsp; Hilda gagged a bit, a shudder passing through her frame, but said nothing.&nbsp; The faint notes from some distant violin took on a dark, almost ominous tone, and then fell to silence as they moved.<br><br>Whatever forces were at work in the house, the rooms that Kovac considered now all looked clean and bright, as if they had been freshly prepared, and flowers .. including large bouquets of white roses and smaller posies of blue, purple and white violets ... were set out in vases of sparkling crystal and polished silver.&nbsp; &nbsp;In the dining room, as they passed, Kovac could the empty table and chairs where the guests and daughters of the house had perished, somehow all the more ominous for its emptiness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>25-03-2014, 21:08:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“You know more of their powers than I,” Kovac admitted as he led her to one of the bedrooms. “But perhaps these two are capable of interfering with more than just their voice. We must be even more vigilant than before.” <br><br>He continued as she spoke of the fate that must have befallen the girls had they invited the stranger in. “So if the stranger had some sort of supernatural power in life, what has that warped into in death? And if Lene and Alys could not disinvite him, then how do we drive the spirit from the house?” His brow creased. The obvious answer, as he saw it, was to drive the ghost out with sword and spell. But surely this was a more subtle beast. Had he not felt the stranger’s power, the aura of enchantment that seemed to hang from it like a cloak? No, he’d need Hilda’s guidance here, he’d need to keep her safe. <br><br>He heard the gagging sound from Hilda as the scent of violets grew stronger; so it wasn’t just in his mind after all. And who was stringing the violin? It brought back memories of his own childhood, of the hours spent putting fiddle to bow in an attempt to escape from the rigors of his training. Was somebody trying to lure him out, like the snake charmers in Sri Raji? <br><br>He frowned as they passed the dining room, and tried to ignore a shudder that went up his spine. When he found the bedroom festooned with flowers, he knew somebody was playing a game with him, but what? “Here Hilda,” he said, leading her to the bed. “You can rest easy here. I won’t let harm come to you.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>31-03-2014, 22:34:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>To Kovac's questions, Hilda did not have an immediate answer.&nbsp; Her head felt fuzzy, as if she had indulged in too much wine or, more likely, had used too much of her energy in channelling the events of the tragedy that had haunted Stamford House.&nbsp; Yet, either possibility seemed just a bit off somehow, though she couldn't seem to fathom why just then.<br><br>As Kovac led her away, she held to him as dizziness seemed to make the floor under her feet rock in a most unseemly fashion as she tried to focus on his questions.<em> "Those who command magic in life do not lose their abilities in death, though their powers may become corrupted when ... vengeance or sorrow ... binds them here."<br></em><br>The room where Kovac led her did not feel right, but she did not wish to protest.&nbsp; Whatever had disturbed Kovac about the rooms seemed, somehow, trivial, but she did not want to protest.&nbsp; He was her protector in this venture, after all. <br><br>The scent of flowers that had sickened her earlier took on a more pleasant, soothing effect as she lay back on the covers, and her head cleared enough that she was able to arrange herself better on the pillows, and the fog receded from her mind.&nbsp; <br><br><em>"The master of the house ... is here again.&nbsp; Stamford House will be mine!&nbsp; I have invited ... no one but you, and the guests of the past are no longer welcome."</em><br><br>Her eyes closed as she lay back, blissfully unaware of the sorrowful note that the unheard music took on.&nbsp; In minutes, she was asleep ... as the minutes of daylight ticked slowly away.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>08-04-2014, 20:31:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac tried to ignore the music as he stood vigil over Hilda, his fingers drumming animpatient beat against the hilt of his talwar.&nbsp; He may have kept like that indefinitely, but he caught a wisp of scarlet from the corner of his eye, to see La Flamme hovering in the air before him. <br><br>“There is much on your mind, priest.” <br><br>Kovac gritted his teeth, unsure why he felt compelled to respond. “Every moment that she sleeps is a moment of daylight wasted. If we wait too long, night will be soon upon us. And who knows what they will try then, or how much stronger they will be. And that violin, that damned violin! I must know its purpose, yet I cannot leave her here, unprotected.” <br><br>La Flamme’s face was expressionless, and she seemed to hover quite some time before replying. "Go...find out what this is, priest, learn their plans before darkness falls." <br><br>"I won't leave her unguarded," Kovac replied, and felt a chill run down his spine. <br><br>La Flamme's mouth twisted in distaste, and even through the haze of unlife it was plain that she was coming to a decision that she did not like but felt she had little choice in. "I will guard her." <br><br>Kovac blinked. "Why in hells would you do that? You have no love for Hilda." <br><br>The ghost raised a crimson eyebrow. "And you do? The truth is, I need you, priest. I have chosen you for a purpose you've not yet fulfilled. And every moment in this house is a moment risked. I need you alive. I need you to take me to Mordent. I cannot make it their on my own power, but you will take me there. And in exchange, I will do what I can to watch over your...companion." <br><br>Kovac's posture stiffened. "If you are eager to help, I'm in no position to refuse. But why do you not investigate the music? Surely your nature gives you some protection against the other ghosts." <br><br>La Flamme shook her head, the ghostly tendrils of her hair hanging illusory in the air. “There are things those ghosts are capable of, things not even I can fully comprehend or control. And that faceless one...” The dead woman shivered. “You would have better luck against him than I would, should it come to that. Now go! Be swift, priest, but stay alive.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>14-04-2014, 22:22:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Kovac and his bound shade conversed, a heaviness seeped into the air, bearing with it the taste and scent of an approaching storm.&nbsp; The odor of flowers that had hung so cloyingly in Kovac's nostrils lightened but did not retreat, and the strains of the violin took on a less urgent tempo, as if the act of making music had calmed the musician ... if such ghostly sounds were made from anything more than a distant memory.<br><br>Outside the window, the sky had darkened.&nbsp; Black clouds hung low on the horizon, over the trees, and a fitful breeze blew, rattling the new formed leaves and scraping tender branches across the panes of glass like surreptitious fingers attempting to tempt a lover once the rest of the household had gone to their beds.<br><br>As Kovac left Hilda in the reluctant care of La Flamme, the soft strains of music, and the scent upon the air, led him back down the stairs, past the closed doors where the twins had slept, and to the music room itself.&nbsp; Yet the dust there still lay upon the instruments gathered there, with the only footprints visible the ones that he and Hilda had left the day before.<br><br>The air in the room smelled of violets, but the scent was sweet and fresh like springtime rather than tinged with the rot of summer rains, and as Kovac peered in, the draperies ruffled and the cool, moisture laden wind swept a small space clear in the dust, revealing a set of folding doors and a view of the flower gardens at the house's back, as sunshine filtered through the greying clouds in advance of the early storm.<br><br>"Kovac ...."<br><br>The whisper drifting through the cracked doors was Lene's, easily recognizable from the night before for all its faintness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>22-04-2014, 20:38:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac moved down the hallways, following the trail of music. He wondered if some entity here had learned of his background, had seen into his mind and his love of the violin. Had he not told Hilda of his time spent as a youth, time spent mastering the instrument until the calling of his profession led him away from the artist’s life. Were they using the music to tempt him away from Hilda? Or perhaps there was merely some kindred soul who wiled away the hours of undeath in song. Either way, Kovac knew he would soon find out. <br><br>As he wound his way down the stairs and into the ballroom, the scent of violets would not heave him, and he knew what he was likely to find here. Not in her room, as before, but here where scores of people used to dance. What was the game here, and who knew the rules? <br><br>The priest froze in his tracks when he heard Lene’s voice. He had expected it, and yet it still sent chills running down his back. “No more games,” he said, his form still as a statue. “No lies, no toying with each other. You know that this place is in danger, and you know the danger doesn't just belong to those of us who still live. Who is that faceless man? What does he want? You can be sure it’s not in your best interest, or your sister’s. If he has his way, he’d bring us all down for his own purposes, for his own pleasure. I have but glimpsed him and yet I know in my bones that this is true. So what part would you play in this?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>24-04-2014, 17:39:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br><em>"No more games?"&nbsp; </em>The pale, translucent form of the house's dark-haired sister emerged from the shadows, dressed in an afternoon gown in a style that had been popular in Mordent perhaps two or three decades past, save for the bodice which had been skillfully and immodestly altered to display half of those luscious asset that Mordent noblemen and common men alike spent much time attempting to have revealed more privately.<br><br>Her laugh was soft, but there was more sorrow in it somehow than mockery, and the ghostly hand that brushed lightly against the skin of his cheek as she approached was gentle, like the kiss of a summer breeze.&nbsp; <em>"Would that it were true.&nbsp; It was our game, when it started.&nbsp; A game that sisters, brothers too, often play against one another, when the bonds of family are undone by the coming of a stranger.&nbsp; It is his game now.&nbsp; Alys thought to escape it, but she has returned, just as he said she would."</em><br><br>The ghost's head shook back and forth several times, the generous lips pursed together.&nbsp; <em>"I had hoped there would be more time ... one last ... but he comes.&nbsp; Can you not feel it?&nbsp; Get out, Kovac.&nbsp; Save yourself, before another suitor returns to his family in a mausoleum box.&nbsp; It has been too late for our cousin ..." </em> Lene laughed again, the sound devoid of amusement or satisfaction, the sound of dust.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>27-04-2014, 04:13:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Leave, save myself?” Kovac shook his head, no trace of hesitation in the gesture. “It’s not about me. I don’t think it ever was. I am here to enforce The Morninglord’s will. And if there is a spirit here who would hold others in bondage, some malevolent force that would bend others to its will, then here is exactly where I belong.”<br><br>“And besides, if I should fall here, there is no family waiting to receive my corpse, no kin nor widow to mourn my passing. A life of serving Lathander mas made me hard, and it has made me rich, but it’s given me precious little time to put down roots. Not even enough time to even think about letting someone else in, no matter how many women I’d bed.” He paused here, his first sign of reticence since Lene materialized. “The only living soul I’ve cared for in years now sleeps under this roof, and I won’t abandon here, no matter how dire the stakes. If I ran now, how could I ever face another mirror?” <br><br>“No, I’m here in this game until its end, and so it’s time to stop treating me like a pawn, Lene. What does the stranger want? What does Alys hope to gain? And what is your part in all this?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>30-04-2014, 20:46:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The spirit's face turned wooden as Kovac spoke, and her eyes turned away from his face to gaze out through the folding doors of clouded glass where there had been a tangle of wild growth but now seemed a well-tended lawn and garden, with metal hoops driven into the ground and balls and mallets waiting, it seemed, for the house to awake so the game could start.<br><br>A glitter of creeping, diamondlike moisture glittered upon the ghost's cheek and dripped into her hair.<br><br><em>"You act as if I should have all the answers."</em><br><br>She laughed, a soft sound dripping with bitterness, and she turned from both the view of the outside and of him as well, and moved to stand in front of the dusty violin displayed upon its wooden stand.&nbsp; Her finger reached out as if to touch it, though Kovac could see that her now insubstantial flesh passed right through it.&nbsp; Even so, the distant sound of its strings could be heard drifting through the room.&nbsp; Some of the tension in the ghostly woman's frame seemed to ease, and when she spoke again it the bitterness had faded, though she spoke as if to a stranger, of an unpleasant duty that she only wished to have done so that the questions would end and leave her to whatever awaited.<br><br><em>"We were inseparable, once, Alys and I.&nbsp; Where she went, I followed, my hand in hers.&nbsp; We needed noone else, she and I ... our father was often away, our mother dead so long ago that her portrait was the only thing of her that we we knew, the servants resentful of being brought from father's estate in the city to the countryside.&nbsp; Yet with each other, we were happy ... until Alys laid eyes upon father's valet's son, when we were twelve, perhaps thirteen.&nbsp; &nbsp;It was not long after that until her happiness came only from the glint in some boy's, some man's eye and the foolishness that she could bring him to. "<br><br>"Rather than sisters, friends, we barely spoke save when father's presence required it.&nbsp; I found solace and companionship in my books, in my music ... while Alys sought to charm every man that crossed her path.&nbsp; Until at last ... there was one who looked past her to see me.&nbsp; And that Alys could not have ... she set out to have him, and have him she did.&nbsp; &nbsp;And yet once she had him, she wanted him no longer and cast him aside."</em><br><br>Lene's voice was tight, but there was no clue whether she felt pain, anger, or something else entirely, though her eyes were fever bright when she turned to gaze directly at Kovac as she continued.&nbsp; <em>"And nor did I, when he looked to me to console him.&nbsp; &nbsp;He went to Father and confessed all, betraying the both of us yet one final time, though I know not what he expected to gain from it.&nbsp; Father was enraged, and it came to blows.&nbsp; I think Father might have killed him had he not seen Alys and me upon the stairs.&nbsp; &nbsp;It was then that Father decided that we had become too wild, and perhaps he had the right of it. He determined to marry us off, with a dowry large enough to compensate, I expect, for our lack of innocence.&nbsp; I welcomed it.&nbsp; I wanted nothing more than to leave this house, Father, and Alys behind.&nbsp; But Alys ... Alys was infuriated.&nbsp; She would not, she said, be ransomed off like chattel, or sold piecemeal like a skirt worn last season.&nbsp; What she did, I do not know ... but as the time of father's party came, she went about with that same smile upon her face as when she took my lover from me."</em><br><br><em>"And when he came, she was meek and sweet as a daisy, but I could see that smile.&nbsp; She wore it inside her, just as our cousin now wears her."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>07-05-2014, 05:18:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Should you not have answers?" His tone was challenging, defiant, though he knew he held no cards. "You have had a long time to ponder your fate, to consider whom it was that robbed you of life." <br><br>"And so the Stranger came to your door, and Alys thought that he was hers. But that could never be, could it? I saw but a glimpse of him when Hilda tapped into the spirits here, saw the raw power that dripped from him like honey. She could have never tamed him, could she? No more than a lamb tames a lion." <br><br>"But the question is, what happened? What lead to your demise? And what can be done to put it right?" <br>Kovac tried to keep the doubt from his voice, for whatever that may have been worth. Did it matter if he hid any sign of emotion from a spirit? Could they see through to his heart as easily as he could see through her body, a body that even now seemed to beckon to him? <br><br>He turned his gaze away from her, no easy thing. "Do you desire him gone, The Stranger? How much power could this stranger have here? Do you and your sister not wield ultimate command? This is your resting place, after all. There is much power in that."<br><br>He paused then, his brow knitting together. "But that also means that Stamford House is the Stranger's resting place as well. That unmarked tomb in the mausoleum, it must house his body. Does that give him power here?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>13-05-2014, 02:38:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br><em>"Think you that the dead differ so much from the living?" </em> Lene's soft laughter was tinged with bitterness.&nbsp; <em>"She thinks she can tame him still, else why has she returned?&nbsp; To share that which she has taken, what she will take?&nbsp; For all her fine words, for all her promises, she shares only that which she is certain to never want again.&nbsp; Remember that, Kovac, if you will not save yourself while there is yet time."</em><br><br>Lene approached Kovac, reached out with curled fingers as if to touch his face, the back of her fingers close enough to impart warmth and chill at once before the gesture hesitated and fell.&nbsp; Her face was devoid of emotion, perhaps devoid of hope as well.&nbsp; <em>"Do I desire him gone?&nbsp; I care not - if it is this house that he wants, he may have it to haunt until the timbers turn to dust.&nbsp; If it is her he wants, he will be well matched can&nbsp; he hold her here without some poor doomed soul to purchase escape.&nbsp; &nbsp; I desire ... only to be gone from here, to whatever peace, whatever torment, comes after.&nbsp; Promise me ... promise me you will take all of me that lies in accursed place and burn it, burn it until even the ashes have been borne away by the wind ... and I will tell you where to find the answers you seek, though I fear they will not save you if you linger too long.&nbsp; Your touch ... was sweet ... a memory of better times."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>18-05-2014, 21:52:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac ran a hand over his face as he considered the terms of Lene's agreement. Was he really about to negotiate with the living dead? <br><br>"You're asking a high price from me. I came here to purge the evil from this house, not to purge it from the land. Is there a building in this world, is there a mansion or a shack that has not seen murder or violence or some other form of cruelty? Were I to burn every dwelling with a dreadful past, the land would be nothing but ash and dust." <br><br>"No, I was hired to cleanse Stamford House, but leave it intact." He frowned even as he said that, as if he didn't believe his own words. He was silent for a few moments before continuing. <br><br>"Were you a churchgoer in life, Lene? Did you kneel before Ezra's altar, as so many do here in Mordent? I envy them sometimes, the Ezran priests. Their whole life is structure, order, duty. Whether they serve a cruel bishop or a kind one, they know their place in the world. It has never been so with those of us who follow the Morninglord. True, we have freedom, more freedom than an Ezra could ever imagine, or ever stand. But that freedom means we sometimes lose our way, sometimes let ourselves go far adrift. And it is hard to see where one duty ends and the other begins." <br><br>"But my deeper duty is clear. It's to give the dead peace whatever way I can. And if the only way to give you and the others here peace is to see it in flames, then that is what will happen."<br><br>"Now...what advice can you give me?" <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>20-05-2014, 22:23:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The spirit's eyes drew together, lips tightened in a frown.&nbsp; Save for a hint of transparency, of mist about her trappings, she seemed as solid and real as anyone Kovac might meet on the street, and she had certainly felt real beneath his touch the previous night.&nbsp; &nbsp;She did not seem angry, but rather uncomprehending, until she realized that he had misunderstood her request.<br><br><em>"Leave it intact - let it be refuge or prize for whichever claims it.&nbsp; I speak not of burning Stamford House, Kovac ... but of whatever of me left in the crypts below.&nbsp; Take me out of the gate, and burn whatever will burn until the wind takes the ash as far from here as it will go.&nbsp; Your oath, on your faith, that before you return to she who is both sister and cousin to me, you will bear my remains out the gate and set it to blaze, with whatever prayers and orisons you may have to lay the dead to rest.&nbsp; Give me peace, as you did last night ... if for but a moment."</em><br><br>Taking his words as agreement to her demand, some of the tension in the air faded, and the mist that licked at Lene's form slowly began creeping up the folds of her dress, until her feet could be seen only occasionally in its swirls as she paced about restlessly.&nbsp; <em>"Me?&nbsp; No.&nbsp; Father saw little sense in the claims of the Ezrans, or any other superstition.&nbsp; Pray to whatever force you call it -- it lies in you.&nbsp; I feel it, as surely as does Alys ... as surely as will he.&nbsp; She will have her way with you if she can, through smiles or tears, impressing you with her quiet strength or drawing you in with her weakness.&nbsp; That is what she is, Kovac ... if she is not his, it is only because she would have him hers, and Hilda ... she is hers, too, Kovac.&nbsp; &nbsp;There are ghosts that have not yet died.&nbsp; Ask her ... ask her how it is that she lives, when her parents do not, and if you value your soul ... make her remember.&nbsp; Break the bond that holds her to my sister -- death may claim her, but at least she will be who she was meant to be, not a vessel."</em><br><br><em>"Now.&nbsp; In the stable, where the stablehand, her first victim, slept ... search there.&nbsp; &nbsp;Bring the truth to light.&nbsp; &nbsp;And while she gathers her strength for his coming, seek out those hidden places where a girl conceals her secrets.&nbsp; Know her, as I did not and as father would not, and you may be able to fight her.&nbsp; The time for secrets is past - it is time for the truth.&nbsp; Know it, shout it to the skies, before he comes for her, and perhaps ... you will have a chance.&nbsp; Our secrets destroyed us - perhaps the truth will be freedom enough."</em><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>02-06-2014, 20:51:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A brief flash of relief crossed his face when he realizes his misunderstanding, but that expression was short lived as he continued listening. His cheeks blushed at the mention of the "peace" that he had brought her last night. But the more he learned, the more he found to question about his own sense of guilt. If he had felt unfaithful to Hilda before, now he was even doubting who Hilda was, or if there even was a "Hilda" anymore, at least one who existed according to mortals' reckoning. <br><br>"I had thought it merely bad luck that her guardians could not accompany her," he muttered, almost to himself more than to Lene. "But now you are saying that the deaths of her natural parents were no accident? And if that be the case, then what could have caused Mr. Darling's fall, to lure her here on her own?" Kovac's hand unconsciously went to his stomach and grabbed at the cold pit he felt gathering there. <br><br>"These are all hard things you ask of me, to do something that will bring about a death even if it results in spiritual freedom. I almost wish you had been merely asking me to set the house ablaze. But I will investigate, I will carve the truth from these endless mists of rumors and strife. And when I do, I'll make sure no trace of your mortal shell remains once I consign it to the flames of The Morninglord." <br><br>He turned to start for the stable, but then stopped, one last question still jabbing at his mind. "And what of Alys, and of the Stranger? Shall I burn their bodies as well?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>03-06-2014, 21:05:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/honor.jpg)</div><br><em>"Accident or intent, it is beyond my knowledge to say.&nbsp; Yet death had come for her, only to be turned aside.&nbsp; Death makes no bargains, not for the weak, not for the innocent ... not even for the powerful.&nbsp; &nbsp; I would not have thought Alys strong enough to stand against it, but there was much I did not know.&nbsp; And Alys ... Alys would not have wanted any who might hold her in check." </em> Lene shook her head, her eyes touched with a remote kind of sympathy.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br><em>"Is death so terrible, then?&nbsp; To a life tied only to regrets and sorrow, it seems to me a gift, as precious as the touch of a lover, and as welcome."</em><br><br>The spirit faded as he turned away, and with it the soft trill of the music, the scent of violets on the breeze for one moment, then faded, like flowers pressed between the pages of a book, a last remembrance borne upon the wind and away.<br><br><em>"If you can ..."&nbsp; </em><br><br>Like the sight, the scent, the voice was but a whisper ...<br><br>And the breeze settled and died.&nbsp; When it returned, it was a wind bearing the chill of a storm in its wake. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>10-06-2014, 05:49:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“If death were not terrible, then why are there so few among the unquiet dead who do not seek to cause misery among the living? Time and again, I have seen the restless dead, gripped imperfectly but unmistakably by death’s hand. But not until recently have I encountered those in living death who didn’t want to rend the flesh from my bones at first sight.” He shook his head. “But there is truth in your words, perhaps the peace of true death, the embrace of Lathander or oblivion or whatever awaits us, is better than a life of sorrow. I am not eager to find out.” Another shake of his head. “But you wouldn’t know that from the things I do.” <br><br>As he turned, he saw a flicker in the corner of his eye, and then Lene was gone. He straightened himself and checked his weapons. “Maybe I was right when I misheard her,” he said to himself, though he had no illusions that he was alone. “Maybe I should burn this blood house to the ground when I’m done.” <br><br>And with that thought in his mind, he left to investigate the fate of the stable boy. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>16-06-2014, 17:56:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac made his way to the stables.&nbsp; The cart that had brought Hilda to her birthright sat where they had left it, and their mounts seemed no worse for their shelter, though both animals seemed relieved to see him, and pushed their heads against him when he came near.&nbsp; It was not the usual search for food or a treat in their gesture, but rather a communication of some uneasiness, and there was a wideness in both their eyes that hinted of discomfort, an eagerness in their whuffs of air.<br><br>It was not difficult to find the small room of which Lene had spoken.&nbsp; There were three small living quarters, all very small in comparison to the house but not unusual for the spaces allotted to servants.&nbsp; The two larger rooms looked as if they had been the scene of long-ago violence, and had been forgotten in the clean-up.&nbsp; The pallets for sleeping had been cut to ribbons, and bore the scorch marks and soot of flame.&nbsp; What poor possessions the inhabitants had had were little more than charred and broken fragments.&nbsp; The walls bore the stain of soot and smoke, but where ever the fire had kindled, it had not eaten into the structure itself.&nbsp; <br><br>The third room was dusty, but otherwise pristine.&nbsp; A footman's uniform was hung carefully upon a hook, and save for a bit of grass stain upon one cuff, seemed hardly worn.&nbsp; A wooden chest held carefully and neatly folded clothes - two pairs of work pants, clean but stained, and one nicer pair with a matching jacket and cloche cap.&nbsp; There were other things beneath the clothing, including two books that looked likely to have come from the Stamford House library.&nbsp; One of these also held a delicate embroidered scarf of white neatly folded, with a carefully pressed, browned clematis flower that had once been white.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Things/book.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Things/key.jpg)</div>The wooden bottom of the chest moved slightly under Kovac's hand, and for a moment the faint scent of violets teased his nostrils before it vanished.&nbsp; A little effort revealed that the bottom had been covered over by a carefully carved, cunning false bottom.&nbsp; Beneath these, Kovac found a book of crude black leather inexpertly made.&nbsp; It was cracked and peeling, and flaked away unpleasantly, leaving bits of oily-feeling residue on his fingers.&nbsp; &nbsp;A brief examination revealed it to be instructions for spells and incantations, the inked notations indicating the first pages for mostly innocuous hedge-witch magic, hexes and fortunes and minor bindings.&nbsp; These quickly gave way to darker workings, spells of greed and lust and vengeance.&nbsp; Beside this, in a leather pouch, Kovac found a few pieces of jewelry, a coin pouch stuffed nearly full to bursting, and a few small items of worth that probably had belonged to the master of Stamford House.&nbsp; The final item was an ornate key, upon a once fine white ribbon.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>25-06-2014, 18:48:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac paused to scratch his horse’s ear. He’d seen his horse hold steady during more than a few scrapes, and to see the obvious unease sent a brief chill down Kovac’s spine. He wondered he if should free th mount once he reached Mordent—surely it had seen enough adventure in its short time with the wandering cleric. <br><br>After he’d thumbed through the book, he realized he recognized most of the spells. Minor incantations on the whole. If he’d come across these on his own, he’d have suspected them of belonging to Lene. If anybody had dabbled in the arcane, he’d thought it would have been her. But could Lene’s ghost have been telling the truth, had this grimoire belonged to Alys? And as he made his way further into the tome, he started to get a sense of why Lene may have felt she’d underestimated her sister. Such rage, such selfishness flowed through these darker spells. Was this truly the fair sister’s spellbook?<br><br>The other trinkets seemed to confirm his suspicions. “Are you here, stable boy?” He called out, truly uncertain whether he was speaking only to the horses. “Did she store these here without your knowledge, or did you help her? Did you love her, stable boy? Did you think she defied her father just for you? And did she love your back, or were you just a pawn in her game? A lad to keep her secrets while she plotted a different exit altogether?” <br><br>He looked around, unsure whether he’d receive a response. The key drew his attention next. Lene had told him to search for where Alys may have kept her secrets. Did the key unlock some secret box, or a diary? There was only one way to find out, and so he started for the room of the fairer sister, making sure to take the book and all the other trinkets with him.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>30-06-2014, 22:57:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The temperature in the stable dropped, as did the light, when Kovac called out to the one whose hands had handled the items he had uncovered, bringing with it a feeling of foreboding that prickled the hairs upon his arms and neck.&nbsp; Though there was no answer, no manifestation, it seemed that his call had not gone unheeded.<br><br>Lene's presence, a distant shadow already, retreated even further, noticeable now only for its absence.&nbsp; The horses shifted uneasily in their stalls, nickering, alarmed though there was no threat that their vision, their noses, could comprehend.<br><br>The sound of Kovac's footfalls echoed hollowly in the hall as he made his way back into the house and up the stairs.&nbsp; If he had had any doubt that fell spirits of malevolent intent inhabited Hilda's inheritance, that doubt was put to rest by the air itself as it pressed in heavily all around him, resisting his return, weighting him down.<br><br>There was no sound from the room where he had laid Hilda's quiescent form, and the sense of malevolence eased as&nbsp; his foot reached the second floor landing, though it waited below rather than fled.<br><br>Alys' room was as he had remembered it, elegant, organized, its bright walls and white furnishings the epitome of light and grace, now with the faint undertone of the silver gleam of a razor honed to the finest edge.&nbsp; It did not take Kovac long to find what he sought - an intricately carved jewel box hidden deep within the recesses of her closet, shrouded by full skirts of white and pastel, and covered over by a folded, finely knit shawl.&nbsp; The key, when tried in the box's front, slid in neatly.<br><br>Inside was a leather-bound journal, with silver decorations and a clasp.&nbsp; It had been lovely, once upon a time, but now a dark brown smear, the smudge of a thumb, marred its pristine surface.&nbsp; Kovac's nostrils itched with the scent of musty, locked away air, and the old, old taint of blood.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>09-07-2014, 06:12:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac tried to fight off the sense of dread that seeped into his pores as he re-entered the mansion, especially as he neared the room where he’d left Hilda. He wanted to stop and check on her, to reassure himself that she was well, but he knew he needed to work quickly. If either of them were going to survive, he needed to unravel this mystery before darkness laid claim to the land. For now, he could only hope that La Flamme had kept her word, and looked over Hilda while he was away; that she’d somehow kept her from harm. But if Lene had told him the truth, perhaps it was La Flamme who would need protection from Hilda, or whatever now possessed the young medium. <br><br>Once in Alys’s room, he found the diary and regarded the rust-colored stains on its cover. Blood, he guessed. Had Alys been fatally wounded, and recorded her last words as her heart’s blood had spilled out? Kovac had assumed that poisoned had killed the guests that night, but perhaps they’d met an even grislier fate. Or perhaps the blood wasn’t Alys’s at all. If she’d grown familiar with black magic, perhaps these stains were the blood of some poor sacrificed animal, or some unfortunate human. <br><br>But guessing would buy him nothing, not with the book itself in hand. He examined the clasp to see if it needed a key to open it, using the one he’d found in the stable if need be. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>14-07-2014, 20:45:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The key slid softly into the metal clasp that held the book closed.&nbsp; Inside, upon pages as white and crisp as those penned mere days before rather than years, were the chronicles of Alys Godefroy's life, from the age of fifteen years, seven months, and eight days when she received the book as a Christmas gift from her sister, Lene.<br><br>Though there was little time to read each entry in depth, flipping through the volume made it possible to see the progression of Alys from a somewhat idealistic woman child into the beginnings of an evil narcissism that soon corrupted innocent longing into a fervent envy and possessiveness.&nbsp; The catalyst, perhaps, was the arrival of a young stablehand&nbsp; (Louis d'Perre) whom her father was grooming for a footman, a young man from a once respectable family that had fallen in the world due to illness.&nbsp; He was a handsome young lad, and the early pages of the diary enthused his qualities in comparison to the most noble features of the statues in the garden, and the handsomest of the portraits that graced the portrait hall in the seat of the Godefroy family which Alys and Lene had visited in the company of their father.<br><br>A worldlier eye could ascertain that the young man had led the young, love-stricken Alys for quite a chase, stressing the difference in their station and telling her how it could have been different if only misfortune could be undone.&nbsp; And as she fell prey to his wiles, he enticed her further, waking her senses to the thrill of erotic touch and inflaming her in ways that were first described with shock and quickly delved into an ever-deepening desire that he refused to sate.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her beloved sister soon became, in her writings, a rival for her would-be lover's affection, whom he alternately mocked and praised.<br><br>It was Alys,however, who lit upon the solution to their woes - witchery, the dark arts - though it was almost certain that Louis had had some hand in introducing her to the old woman who had taken up residence in the deepest heart of the nearby woods.&nbsp; <br><em><br>"Kovac?" <br></em><br>The voice was soft, with a tremble that denoted fear.&nbsp; <br><br>Hilda stood there, a red dressing gown drawn about her shoulders, her hand clutching to the doorframe for support.&nbsp; Beyond her, with a face that radiated both impotent anger and a touch of trepidation, hovered the ghostly figure of La Flamme.<br><br><em>"This spirit ...&nbsp; who is she, and what does she want with you?"</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>26-07-2014, 16:00:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac turned the pages in the diary quickly, trying to ignore the trembling in his features. When he’d found Alys’ things in the stable, he’d assumed the stablehand had been a patsy, some unfortunate pawn in Alys’ game. But now, through the fair sister’s eyes, he seemed like no innocent serving boy. Was he an infiltrator? A soul bent on regaining his family’s lost fortune and status? Or did it go even deeper than, to some even fouler ambition? He recalled his own words in the stable, sure now that whatever had once been the stableboy had heard them. <br><br>When he heard Hilda call his name, he slammed the book shut, as if it were his diary, his secrets held within. <br><br>“I was apprenticed to a man, a powerful sorcerer.&nbsp; He was the only one who viewed my powers with something beyond shock and disdain.” She looked at Kovac. “You kept your secret for some time as well, I’ve heard you speak of your boyhood often enough. But the priests took you in and taught you, didn’t treat you like a monster. And you,” she said, looking at Hilda now, “you had your foster parents to guide you and coddle you. Neither of you know what it’s like to have to hide what you are, or else end up in some fool’s bonfire.” <br><br>“So he took me in, this handsome stranger. This man who treated me like I was a regular girl. Better than that.” Her eyes seemed to flash with passion before going cold once again. He taught me how to use my powers to keep myself safe, to distract those around me, to beguile with sorcerery. But…he studied darker things as well. It frightened me at first, to see the things he could do. To see him approach the body of a man slain on the road, and talk to it, and have it talk back! I was terrified. But also fascinated. And so I asked him to teach me more. And he did, to my delight and utter damnation. <br><br>“After what he taught me, the world no longer seemed boring.I would look at an empty room, and see a dozen spirits, unquiet but with no voice. And he taught me to bend them to my will. To summon them, to make them fight for me. Kill for me. I felt like a goddess, like nothing could stop the two of us. I would have followed him anywhere, and I did. <br><br>I followed him everywhere, for years, for too many long years. But I’d never saw the signs. Never saw that he’d been using me the whole time. Never figured out that he’d intended me for a sacrifice until the knife plunged between my breasts. He had to spill the blood of someone who loved him, and I was the only one foolish enough to fall into his trap. As I sputtered out my last breaths, he cackled with power, and fled into a cloud of mist. <br><br>“But he’d underestimated how much I’d learned. I had wasted my youth, wasted my life in service to him, but I’d not spent the time in ignorance. And knowing I’d find no mercy in death, I vowed my revenge. But the land had cursed me. Some ghosts are bound to a place, but I must be bound to a man, as I’d done in life. I must bind myself and hope that the man makes his way to Mordentshire, where the necromancer who slew me now resides. And so when Kovac came along….who better to use for my own ends?” She gave Hilda a telling glance. “But I don’t have to tell you about that.” <br><br>“Yet I’ve kept my bargain,” she told Kovac. “I’ve kept your girl safe. I’ll expect you to keep yours once we’re done with this business. Has everyone in this room been so honest with you?” <br><br>Kovac’s eyes met La Flamme’s, then to Hilda’s, then to the book in his hands. “There are dark arts here too,” he told Hilda. “And I think they go back farther than even I had though.” His brows knit together, and suddenly he looked very sad. <br><br>“Hilda, what is your first memory?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>28-07-2014, 19:14:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br><br>As La Flamme spoke, Hilda’s expression fluctuated, from a kind of confused fascination to understanding, to horror, to sympathy, and then back.&nbsp; At her comparison between the two, the confusion returned, tinged with guilt, so that she could not return either the spirit’s gaze or Kovac's but gazed around the room instead.&nbsp; It was such a beautiful room, not old fashioned and cluttered and fussy as the other.&nbsp; She felt at home there, safe there, even as other senses screamed at her that she shouldn't.<br><br>Was it vengeance alone that the bound spirit sought, or did she have kinder motives, to save others from what her death had enabled?&nbsp; She meant to ask, but the words simply wouldn't come.&nbsp; Her tongue felt frozen in her mouth, and the words slipped away like a wisp of mist, until she could not even think what she meant to ask.&nbsp; She looked up, her brows knit, mouth parted with only breath emerging.<br><br>Kovac's question cut through the fog of confusion like a knife through flesh, and the sting of it shocked her from the strange comfortable malaise that had been drawing her into its grasp.&nbsp; She could feel the telltale signs of another’s presence that she had not before, and the fear that she had done something, said something, that ought not been said or done. <br><br><em>“My first … memory?”&nbsp; </em><br><br>The thought brought with it an immediate sense of wrongness, poking at anger that she was surprised to find so close to the surface.&nbsp; Had La Flamme not hovered so close behind her, Hilda might have sought its embrace simply to drive away the confusion, but she could feel the horrible truth of the spirit’s confession, her purpose, and it gave her strength to see the emotion for what it was, an artifact of another’s will to hide the truth, and Hilda fought it, summoning the discipline the Darlings had taught her, to find the thoughts that were hers and hold to them, to use them like strings laid out to guide her through the maze …<br><br><em>“I … we were going on a trip, my frist farther than town.&nbsp; I was&nbsp; wearing my new dress, and it was blue, and Mommy had braided my hair with ribbons.&nbsp; And then it got dark, and the carriage started shaking.&nbsp; I could hear the sound of rain hitting the carriage, but then it was loud and sharp and it hurt my ears.”</em>&nbsp; As she spoke, Hilda’s eyes grew distant, and her voice grew sharper and less rounded, babyish in both word and tone.&nbsp; <em>“I was scared, but Mommy put her arms around me and I could smell the flowers from her dress, and she hugged me while the carriage jumped and shook.&nbsp; &nbsp;And then … then we were rolling and Mommy screamed and things crashed and bounced and broke and we were turning end over end.&nbsp; I heard Daddy call my name, and then I was outside.&nbsp; I was falling and the rocks hurt my hands and tore my dress, but I grabbed on and held …&nbsp; My hands were wet, and cold and warm both, and I could see blood on my hands, on the rock, when the lightning flashed ...”</em><br><br>Hilda stopped, and shook her head as her brows lowered in confusion. <em> “Wait.&nbsp; I never remembered that before, just waking up with Freda, Mrs. Darling, bending over me.”</em><br><br>There was more.&nbsp; Hilda could feel it there, like a boil just beneath the surface, sore and itchy at the same time.&nbsp; The doctor had said that she might never remember anything before the accident, that she had hit her head during he fall.&nbsp; <br><br>Reaching up, Hilda's face showed more confusion, more surprise as it encountered only hair, mussed from sleep, instead of the bandages she had worn for so long over locks that had been shorn away for the healing.<br><br>But now that she recognized the signs, she did not shy away from it, but grabbed hold of the memory and hauled herself along it, hand over hand as Kovac’s presence provided strength and reassurance, and guilt, enough to push through the barriers of reluctance and aversion.<br><br><em>“I couldn’t hold on anymore.&nbsp; It was cold and wet, and my head hurt, and I was slipping.&nbsp; And then ... she came, hovering there like your spirit, beautiful and white.&nbsp; She was dead, like the others, but … she said she could save me, that I didn’t need to die.” </em><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>14-08-2014, 05:59:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac listened to Hilda's tale, his face an impassive mask at first. But as she continued, as she told him about events that she herself seemed ignorant of until just now, that expression changed. His brow furrowed, worry lines appearing on his forehead and at the edges of his mouth. With trembling hands, he stuffed the diary into his pocket, and took up a flask in its place. A quick twist of the cap, a long pull of the spirits within, but he felt the burning alcohol do nothing for his frayed nerves. <br><br>He'd wanted to believe that Lene had been lying to him, that this was all part of some deviant plan to woo him for nefarious purposes. But even Kovac's sharp mind could not deny what he saw before him, what he heard with his own ears. Yet everything he heard and saw could be just a piece of a larger puzzle, and just because Lene had told him part of the truth didn't mean that he wasn't a pawn. But even a pawn could mate a queen. <br><br>He looked up the corner where La Flamme hovered and locked eyes with the spirit. Without saying a word, the apparition nodded, almost in deference, and her form backed away until she could no longer be seen in the room. He stepped towards Hilda and reached out a hand to brush her cheek with his long fingers. How close he'd come to falling in love with this woman! And in truth, she still held part of his heart, even though they'd known each other for only a short time. But who was the "she" that held him so captivated? <br><br>"Hilda," he said, in halting tones. The woman who embraced you after your parents departed, did she look like the blonde twin in the portrait? Did she look like Hilda?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>25-08-2014, 18:12:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Hilda_zpsde9b4938.jpg)</div> <br>"I ...."&nbsp; Hilda's face wrinkled in confusion as she started to speak.&nbsp; The image had been right there, until she went to look for it.&nbsp; She was certain of that.&nbsp; Her head throbbed dully, as if it had been weighted down by the heavy air of an approaching thunderstorm.&nbsp; Only Kovac's fingers upon her cheek felt truly clear.&nbsp; Her fingers trembled as she brought them to her temples, and she rubbed against the dull ache and attempted to push past. &nbsp;"Yes, she did, I think.&nbsp; At the time, she seemed ... old, draped in a dark cloak and hood, against the weather.&nbsp; Her hands ... pretty nails, long with white tips, like my ... they were old ... wrinkled ... no.&nbsp; Not wrinkled ... dirty, and they felt dry on my skin, sticky.&nbsp; I could see bits of her hair, long and white, pulled from the hood by the wind.&nbsp; &nbsp;She tugged at me, lifted me, and it hurt so very much, like I was dying.&nbsp; &nbsp;I ... "<br><br>Hilda shook her head, fingers falling away as the pain subsided.&nbsp; She could see the woman clearly now in her memory, a beacon-like figure whose aura had been gray when she had first seen her, and then had been gray tinged with yellow and red when she had come again.&nbsp; "I had forgotten. "<br><br>She had also forgotten that the woman had returned, a pale ghost whose gray aura had been tinged with yellow and red, an unmistakable sign of a spirit that fed upon the life forces of another.&nbsp; "How did I not ... she came again, several times ... when ...." Hilda's lips closed tight on both word and thought, but her eyes were stricken.&nbsp; For a moment, her shoulders bent under the weight of a miserable guilt, but then anger shorted them up again.<br><br>"She used ... <em><strong>uses</strong></em> ... me."<br><br>Outside, the faint sound of thunder rumbled, distant and low, and the wind scraped tiny branches against the panes of the windows, like dry fingernails.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>03-09-2014, 03:21:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac barely heard the branches clawing at the window over the pulse that thundered in his ears. He looked away from Hilda then, down to the pendant of The Morninglord which hung from his belt. So it had come to this. Only the spectre who'd been trailing him and goading him to Mordentshire had treated him without duplicity, intentional or otherwise. His lips twisted into a cynical smile. For a moment, he dearly wished he were facing down a horde of zombies or a pack of ghouls, something simple, direct. Something he could take a morbid sense of pride in destroying. But here, the destruction had begun long agoo, and Kovac didn't want to think of all the ways it could get much, much worse. <br><br>When returned his gaze to Hilda, he looked through her instead of at her. "Well then Alys, it's time to pull off the mask. You've had your fun, but the dance you're playing has outlived its usefulness. Do you really think this Stranger will carry you off as his lover? Do you think you can right whatever wrong drove you to murder in the first place? How is taking yet another life a balance on the scales? He does not love you, you know that, do you not? He never did, maybe never loved anyone. If he wants you, it is to use you. Not even as a lover, as a tool in some greater game. Would you sacrifice Hilda, would you sacrifice yourself, for whatever petty end this Stranger has in mind?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>04-09-2014, 22:58:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Kovac?"&nbsp; Hilda's face screwed up in a mix of confusion, dread, and horrified understanding.&nbsp; &nbsp;She shook her head in negation, but once the knowledge had been laid bare she could not bury it again.&nbsp; "She is ... within me?&nbsp; All this time?"<br><br>In an instant, her face hardened, giving her a haggard look a decade beyond her years.&nbsp; "Drive her out.&nbsp; An exorcism, now, before she can ..."<br><br>And then her eyes turned from green to gray, the color washing out like mist over the treetops.&nbsp; Alys's presence flowed over her, but this time Hilda did not retreat.&nbsp; The battle was painted in her expression, in the immediate tension of her muscles, as her mouth twitched between a laugh and a scream.<br><br>Alys settled over her, gaining victory, and the laugh rang out.&nbsp; &nbsp; <em>"He betrayed me, just as you betrayed little Hilda.&nbsp; So easy, so quickly thoughts of love are driven out by thoughts of anger, of resentment, of greed.&nbsp; Even Hilda betrays me, the one who rescued her from cruel fate so she could have a life, could lose herself in your arms.&nbsp; Just as Lene did.&nbsp; But it is I who will have the last laugh.&nbsp; I will drive his betraying black soul from my house, a beggar who has made far too many foolish demands upon my generosity.&nbsp; He will not hesitate to kill this pretty little shell, to trap her here to await his pleasure, her, Lene, me, all the others.&nbsp; Help me drive him hence, return Stamford House to me, and you may have her, to use as you please before you cast her aside, if you have not already."</em><br><br>Beneath the cold, derisive mockery that was Alys, the glamour that had hidden the truth from her was scoured away.&nbsp; She saw, and remembered, and her chest labored beneath the pain of knowledge laid bare, but she did not cede the struggle, even as tears began to fall down her face, accompanied by fat, infrequent drops of rain that pecked upon the eaves and windowpanes like a thrush.<br><br>Alys' expression turned from mockery to disbelief and then rage as Hilda wrestled free. <br><br>"We don't have much time.&nbsp; By the gods, how did I not feel it?&nbsp; Like a wave from the sea, black as the night."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>19-09-2014, 04:13:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A cold anger built inside Kovac as he listened to Alys speak of her plans, and the anger nearly froze him to the bone when she compared him to the Stranger who'd wrought so much havoc on this household. He was a man, true enough, a man who'd never been good at controlling his urges. But that hardly made him the same kind of monster as the spectre who would soon darken their doorway. He wanted to turn his mind's eye away from those accusations, to give his conscience the leeway it so desperately wanted right now. Yet he knew giving his conscience a holiday is how he had complicated all these matters in the first place. And so he stared Alys head-on, saying nothing except with his eyes, which told a story of pity and contempt. <br><br><em>And that's just how the Stranger sees her.</em> The slush in the pit of his stomach turned to a solid ball of ice at that thought. <br><br>Kovac’s baleful gaze turned to a look of deep concern once Hilda returned to her body, having driven Alys away by what Kovac could only guess was an effort of pure will, stubborn and strong even after what they’d both been through. He wanted to hold her, and tell her everything would be alright, but the last the he needed was one more lie weighing on his already overburdened soul. <br><br>“Yes,” he told her reluctantly, “I think Alys has been within you this whole time, guiding you, hoping that she could use you to gain her revenge and claim the mansion for her own. But she’s a fool. Left to her own devices, this Stranger would destroy her, and you as well.” He shook his head. “But he’ll have to destroy someone else before he’ll even have a chance of doing that.” He jerked a thumb at his chest. “He didn’t count on me, neither of them did. And they didn’t count on La Flamme. Much as I may distrust her, she wants me out of this alive. And if this Strange thrives on seduction, that is a game our red-headed ghost knows all too well, I’d wager. We must seek her out, plan our defense of this place, and show this Stranger that his suffering in this world is far, far from over.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>22-09-2014, 18:04:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda's arms crossed over her breasts in a classic defensive motion, useless for all but perhaps some sense of steadying reassurance.&nbsp; How much of her life had been a lie?&nbsp; She grappled with the realization, and with the faint whisper of Alys in her mind.&nbsp; She was out of her depth, the soft voice, the voice of her savior, whispered, just as she had been when the carriage went off the road, leaving her clinging to the rain-lashed rocks.&nbsp; She would have died then, were it not for the spirit.&nbsp; She had no life, no strength, no gift, that had not been given.<br><br>Death was coming to reclaim His prize, and Kovac would only help her as it helped himself.&nbsp; He did not care for her, beyond what he would care for any pretty face in need, would not be there to pick up the pieces even if she survived - and what would be waiting for her, without her gift?&nbsp; Did she truly think the Darlings would welcome her back in, without her inheritance, without the gifts that had offered them entry in the circles of society that they so craved?<br><br>She shuddered, knowing that the whispers bore truths, perhaps even more truths than lies.<br><br>She had not let go of the rock then.&nbsp; She would not let go now, though she would take with her the bitterness of knowledge gained of the hands outstretched to give her purchase now.&nbsp; She could do only what she could do, and the rest she would consign to fate.<br><br>Her eyes closed, then opened, and she nodded once. &nbsp;"Can you call her?"&nbsp; <br><br>Worst of all, Hilda's gifts, the rituals that allowed her contact, aid and protection from the realm of spirits ... how much could she trust them if she could not trust her own will.<br><br>Perhaps it would have been better if she had let go.&nbsp; &nbsp;She could trust it no more than she could trust her own thoughts, even to the knowing of whether that thought had come from her, or from the force that had twined itself in her being.&nbsp; Yet, Alys had been perhaps a bit too liberal in her mixture of truth and lies.&nbsp; Her gifts had not come from Alys, and she did not believe that the spirit could strip them away.&nbsp; That would be her rock.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>07-10-2014, 02:38:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“I need no summoning,” La Flamme said as her crimson visage hove into the room. She turned to Hilda, her features sharp and his eyes narrow. “I should have seen it sooner. But rage blinded me. My own thirst for revenge.&nbsp; You were a distraction. Something that led Kovac astray. Again.” <br><br>“But I should have seen a kindred soul. A wounded heart, but a heart clouded by something other than revenge. Or something more than revenge.” Her head snapped towards Kovac, red tendrils of hair hovering in her wake. “I should have told you sooner. As soon as I suspected. Maybe then you wouldn’t have let your heart fall in the brambles, my dear little half-priest.” <br><br>“And,” she added, the cruel humor in her last barb suddenly melting away. “I did not, because I feared. I have no lair of my own, and to face a spirit who has spent so much time in her own domain. It scared me. But no more. The Stranger must die a true death. I can help. I can lure him. If he wants anything, it’s new flesh. And though the flesh is gone,” she said, running a spectral hand through her spectral midriff, “there are still ways. Illusions to make the dead seem alive, just as there are spells to make the living seem dead. For a time, I will have smooth skin, silky hair. And it will feel real enough to the touch. And there will be heat.” A wisp of a smile. “That I promise.” <br><br>Kovac nodded slowly. “None of us truly know this stranger, but I felt his presence when Hilda channeled the spirits. His power was raw, sexual. All living there seemed to bend to his will. I even felt it myself. There must be a deep greed in him, a hunger like nothing else. Maybe you’ll be just the bait we need.” <br><br>He turned to face Hilda, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. Lord of Light, but whose shoulder was it? “Can you fight this? Can you keep Alys at bay? I know prayers that can help. You won’t be alone.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>09-10-2014, 18:37:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Though Hilda's arms remained crossed over her chest in a defensive posture, the sense of helplessness sloughed away like the discarded skin of a serpent.&nbsp; &nbsp;What was done was done, and the spirit had come to her when she was too young, too weak, and too afraid to understand.&nbsp; Hilda was not bound by such a deceitful bargain, and the casual way with which her savior had dismissed her life, and the lives of others, horrified her to the core.<br><br>And there were things that she knew.&nbsp; Now that the veil had been ripped free, she could find sense in the visions that had wracked her, now that Alys' purpose had been laid bare. &nbsp;"Not lust ... or not just lust."&nbsp; Hilda's eyes moved to Kovac's, then dropped away, settling on La Flamme as she sought not to give the thing residing within her a place to bury her claws. &nbsp;"Envy.&nbsp; Jealousy.&nbsp; What another has, He wants over what He has ... had.&nbsp; She could not ... cannot ... bear not not being wanted above all others.&nbsp; That is their doom, and what binds them in this sorry state.&nbsp; So much betrayal."<br><br>Hilda's mouth twisted in a small, bitter smile as she shook her head once in negation.&nbsp; "It was not Alys' return that woke him.&nbsp; It is not her for whom he comes ..."&nbsp; She let the words hang, giving only slight emphasis as she felt her way through the emotions that she had channeled. <br><br>Hilda's statement was met with an immediate surge of energy within the house, a hundred sounds as small treasures rose from where they had been kept and were dashed against the floor, against walls, shattering, bouncing, skittering across the floors as the scent of ozone, of sulfur, rose up in the wake of destruction.&nbsp; <br><br>Outside, the thunder rumbled closer, as if the clouds' approach were being heralded by ominous laughter.&nbsp; All the same, Hilda smiled, for she had found her invader's weakness, the chink that could be exploited.<br><br>"I know her now.&nbsp; She may break free, but I will fight her so long as I yet breathe."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>27-10-2014, 01:41:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“He wants what he’s not had?” As he spoke, the look of worry seemed to melt away from his face and evaporated like a layer of rime in the rising sun. “So La Flamme gives us the bait, and you give us the hook with that bit of knowledge.&nbsp; I think you are right, he is not here for Alys.” He left&nbsp; the rest unspoken, just as Hilda had. Neither of them needed to be told who would bear the brunt of the Stranger’s devilish will, should they fail.<br><br>“I see my error now,” he said, and began pacing the floor, his boots rapping out staccato rhythms on the floor and his weapons jingling softly at his belt. “I thought our Stranger’s motives were intellectual. A spirit, divorced from a body. What carnal needs could it have? Surely it must have been bent on control, on domination, or even amusements. A mind separated from a body, what else could motivate a being of pure spirit?” <br><br>“But now I see, now I see.” He shook his head, and adopted a mocking smile that could be meant for nobody but himself. “I was a fool to think that a spirit was devoid of wants, needs, emotions. Desires.” He paused for a moment, remembering Lene’s touch. He’d thought she’d been manipulating him, trying to make him a pawn in her game. But what if she’d simply been lonely? <br><br>But he couldn’t dwell on that, not beyond how it could help him keep Hilda safe now. “So I will direct my affections toward La Flamme, make her seem to be the one I’m most interested in protecting. If our visitor wants what he can’t have, then let us prey on that jealousy.” He flashed Hilda a predator’s grin, a man who at last was in his element. And then his gaze went to La Flamme.”<br><br>“So for now...” he grinned then switched to High Mordentish. “Je t'adore, La Flamme.”<br><br>The fiery spirit gave him a frosty smile. “Je t'aime, little half-priest. Let the bastard come.”<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>28-10-2014, 21:12:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda made no answer, looking at Kovac as if she'd never seen him before.&nbsp; What was a spirit, but wants, needs, and desires?&nbsp; &nbsp;Even his spirit, the spirit that had bound itself to him as Alys had bound herself to Hilda, was motivated by those very things rather than any intellect divorced from them.<br><br>But saying so would surely serve little purpose now.<br><br><em>"You see now, do you not?"</em>&nbsp; Alys' voice was but a whisper inside her mind, and one that Hilda no longer mistook for her own thoughts. <em> "He is the same, the same as them all."</em><br><br>There was no time for a protective circle, a focus for the magic that ran through Hilda's bloodline.&nbsp; Her face drained of color and she sank to her knees, skirt pooling over her legs as they folded under her, as the vision of that last fateful day rushed in to soak through her senses like water sucked up by a sponge.<br><br>The dark-haired sister's face, marked by pain and shock, as she turned from discovery.<br><em><br>"My room.&nbsp; What are you doing in my room, in my things.&nbsp; Did you satisfy your curiosity, dear little sister?" </em> The cruelty, the selfish instilling of pain, anger at being denied what should be hers -- she was eldest, she was the most beautiful, the purest -- how dare her sister deny her what she wanted?<br><em><br>"He is here?&nbsp; How!&nbsp; He is dead, I know that he is dead, I rolled him over the stones myself." </em>&nbsp; Anger, mixed with a twisted remorse, a hope that burned like fire.<br><br><em>"Get away from her!&nbsp; How dare you ... how dare you come here for her and not me?"&nbsp; </em>Rage, pure rage tinted with grief, despair, rage all roiling like black clouds, mixing her thoughts.<br><br><em>"The spell from the book.&nbsp; He'll not have her, nor me.&nbsp; He'll have nothing at all."</em>&nbsp; The scent of the blooms from the greenhouse, sickly sweet and cloying as death, the cut and a sharp, fiery pain that felt like victory even as her blood drained into the silver tureen.<br><em><br>"The taste of the soup, salt and savory, sweet spice, flower bits floating amongst the stock like debris, flotsam upon a bloody sea, eat it.&nbsp; Eat it all, yes, all of it, the meal I have prepared for you."&nbsp; </em>His power, the lure of his lust, their defenses shattered, lace and linen ripping, hands, lips hungry, lust stripping away all vestiges of civilization as he watched, fed upon it, sipping her vengeance upon a silver spoon as he turned to claim ...<br><br>But she was gone, fled, and there was pain, so much pain, like a fire from the inside, screams of pleasure mixing with agony, his anger, and the absence of ... something ... something vital ... and she was running, running, fleeing, her half-nude body draped upon the table, reaching for ...<br><br>Hilda spoke of what she saw, her heart welling with a sick, helpless pity as so many lives were tossed away in the maelstrom, telling Alys' story in the bits and pieces that she saw, even as she rejected the spirit's claim of kinship.&nbsp; Perhaps it would help.<br><br>"No.&nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>No one</strong> deserves to be punished for who they love or who they don't.&nbsp; I am not like you.&nbsp; I am not you, and <strong>you</strong> are not <strong>me</strong>."<br><br>And the thunder rumbled in the distance, ever louder.<br><br>"May you be convincing in your plan.&nbsp; He is awake now, and he will not wait.&nbsp; He has no patience for waiting, you see." &nbsp;Hilda raised her head, and gave a twisted smile, utterly devoid of Alys' whispering influence for the first time since she had clung to the rain-soaked rocks and felt death pulling at her heels.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>14-11-2014, 04:07:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Quick as a dart, Kovac rushed to Hilda as she sunk to her knees, and put a bracing hand between her shoulders. The other hand dropped to the pistol at his hip. How often he’d been reassured by the weight of that gun and his sword, but could they do him any good now? <br><br>“La Flamme, does silver harm your kind, the same way it burns vampires?”<br><br>“For some of us…yes.” No mistaking the hesitance in her voice. “But not for all of us. It’s a guessing game.” <br><br>“Let’s hope I’m a good guesser.”<br><br>“You’re not. But you’re clever when you have to be. Be clever now.”<br><br>When Hilda came back around, Kovac sighed in relief, then listened as she told what she could of Alys’ story. “She mentioned a book? I have that, it was in the stables. If we can find the spell she used, maybe we can learn some way to undo it. There were other books in the stable too. One with a white scarf and a faded flower. Maybe that holds answers. We should head there first.”<br><br>“If the stable gives us no clues, I think we should return to the crypt. That tomb without a name, it must belong to The Stranger. And should his bones lie here, perhaps they are his weakness. Perhaps they still link him to this world. If we bless or burn them, that may stop him.” His memory flashed back to Alys’ ghost asking that he do the same with what remained of her.<br><br>“Either way, we need to get the hell out of here.” He turned to La Flamme, and in spite of a lifetime of training, a lifetime of fighting and fearing the undead, his head dipped in thanks. The fiery spirit said nothing, only smirked, and drifted away to carry out her part of the plan. <br><br><br><div align="center"><strong>*******</strong></div><br>To tell the truth, La Flamme was growing more than a little fond of being dead. Oh, she still had murder on her mind, a betrayal was still a betrayal, living or not. But she had begun to appreciate the advantages of leaving one’s body behind, of being untethered to the mortal concerns for food or sleep. Of course, she’d have enjoyed her new state much more if she weren’t tethered to a living host, but one problem at a time. <br><br>For now, she knew she must focus on her ruse. Her form began to wink in and out of existence for a time, a sign of the psychic effort her spellcasting now took. No arcane gestures, no reagents, not any more. She only needed the sheer force of her will, though the cost was heavy.&nbsp; Her form drifted to the floor like a feather. And when her feet touched the ground, she could actually feel the cold wood below. Her skin was soft once more, her hair hung from her shoulders instead of billowing in the heat of an unseen fire. An illusion, but one that convinced even her for half a heartbeat (gods, what a strange sensation now).&nbsp; She had meant to affect an air of fear, and air of vulnerability, but now she needed no acting. This spell, so seldom used, made her giddy and uneasy all at once. It reminded her why she was glad to be dead, and at the same time, how much desperately part of her wished she could live again. But La Flamme swallowed that new found anxiety, and began casting doe-eyes about the parlor for any sign of the stranger. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>21-11-2014, 03:49:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda, her face bleak but resolute, nodded at Kovac's suggestion, pushing herself up.&nbsp; &nbsp;"Salt for the bones may help as well."<br><br>Before Kovac's spirit rider departed, Hilda looked to her ... and hesitated.&nbsp; &nbsp;The words that she felt she should say were leaden in her mouth, and only the realization that what she felt for the other was not her feeling.&nbsp; It was not her feeling, it was Alys', and that knowledge colored her cheeks with fiery shame and forced the warning out.<br><br>"Spirit ... take care.&nbsp; It is his power that holds the spirits here, his desire.&nbsp; If he turns that power toward you ..."<br><br>She could feel the twist of rage inside, the anger that Kovac might care for, might want, another.&nbsp; It was a black thing within her, dark and oily, and she could feel the residue that it left on her soul.&nbsp; It was not her emotion, not truly, but it drew upon what it found within her to feed upon.<br><br>"Where are these books?"<br><br>Yet even as Hilda asked the question, she knew.&nbsp; She could see the fair-haired Alys sneaking from the house, looking left and right to make sure she was not observed, and hurrying out into the stable.&nbsp; She had felt love once, but it had been tainted and twisted by jealousy and greed into something ugly and destructive, something that would destroy what it could not own and control.<br><br>"We should hurry.&nbsp; His power will grow with the storm."<br><br>Inside her, she felt Alys' fear at her statement, as well as her longing.&nbsp; Hilda could almost pity her, if she had not seen how callously she had used those around her.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Quickly, she turned and made for the quickest route for the stables, bypassing the front door and taking the route Alys had used, through the glass doors in the music room and out the garden path.&nbsp; Around her, the wind blew, lifting her skirts and billowing them out like a lover swinging her into the dance.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>02-12-2014, 03:29:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Yes, salt. I have some already, for rituals of abjuration.” There was a certain comfort in that quick agreement, but he couldn’t help but detect a note of jealousy cross her face. Or was it jealousy? Shoud he give himself that kind of credit? He felt nothing for La Flamme, would have avoided her at all costs in life. Yet now they seemed as allies. And why?<br><br><em>Because you’re useful, Kovac. When you want to be. Same reason why Hilda wants you around. So be useful. </em><br><br>“The books, I’d left them in the stables…” but he could see the light of recognition in her eyes before he’d even finished his thought. How did she already know? By instinct alone, keen intuition, or by the bond that linked her to Alys’ spirit? Perhaps better not to contemplate it, though he doubted he could ignore it for long, or that he –should- ignore it. <br><br>He followed her to the stables at a quick trot, the wind tugging at his hair which hung in a tight braid, ready for battle. His eyes went to Hilda’s legs as the wind blew her skirts about her, and he did not pause to chide himself. Yet he could have sworn he’d heard the dark-haired twin’s laughter in the wind, and was there a drop of bitterness?<br><br>“I left them there,” he said once they arrive at the stable, pointing to the other books. “I took the book of necromancy with me, though. Surely we’ll find a key to this madness in one of the books.” He moved to his horse and scratched it behind the ear. <br>“Easy lad, we’ve got a bumpy road yet.”<br><br>He then moved to Hilda and placed a hand on her shoulder, then spoke a prayer in his native Luktar.&nbsp; “Király a hajnal, kölcsönöznek a támogatás ez a lány küzdelmét.” Soft, warm energy flowed from his touch to her. <br><br>“A prayer of aid,” he explained, to ward off fatigue and restore the mind’s willpower. We’ll need much of that before the night’s through.” With that, he took the book of spells from his satchel and began to read through the latter pages of the book, searching for the rituals that led Alys to her fate.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>10-12-2014, 17:02:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac's prayer eased some of the tightness in Hilda's frame, the tightness in her skull from the effort of keeping the spirit within her separated and contained.&nbsp; It seemed almost inconceivable that she could have carried the presence in her for all these years without knowing it ... but she had been so very young.&nbsp; Likely, Alys had taken great care to conceal herself, to work subtly until she was old enough to be of use, but still, it rankled.<br><br><em>"If not for me, you would not have had these years at all."<br></em><br>There was a feeling of familiarity about this room, a sense of ... longing and expectation and ... seething anger, jealousy, pride.&nbsp; Hilda shuddered, and picked up the first of the books.&nbsp; It was a book on herbs and herbalism, and there was nothing extraordinary in it at first glance, though Hilda recognized the writer's name as someone who had written several books that at least touched upon how arcane forces were intertwined with everday life.&nbsp; The second was little different, though as she started to put the book down, the loose binding on the back caught her attention, and she teased from it a folded piece of thin parchment.<br><br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">"I have done it.&nbsp; The door to the music room will be unlocked, and I have prepared the potion for the wine.&nbsp; We will complete the task together, my love, and none will be the wiser.<br><br>-A"</span></span><br><br>Hilda's hand shook as she held the note.&nbsp; "They planned to kill her father, and then Alys would be free to make her own choices, to choose him. But he betrayed her, and then she betrayed him ... to death and beyond in her anger.&nbsp; She thought she had taken her vengeance, but such things always demand a price.&nbsp; He returned ... and killed them all, Alys, Lene, those who would take them when he was denied, those who had ... not seen him."<br><br><em>"It was his betrayal.&nbsp; I only did what I must, for our plan's sake."</em>&nbsp; Was it her imagination, or was the spirit's mental complaint defensive?<br><br>Kovac's searching also bore fruit, in the last few pages of the book -- a dire curse, a dark binding meant to chain the soul, a punishment for traitors and faith-breakers.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>20-12-2014, 03:31:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac shook his head as Hilda described the plots and schemes which had led them all, living and dead, to this path. "Our hosts, it would seem, prided themselves in machinations that would be better suited to an Invidian court than the countryside of Mordent." But was that true? For all Mordent's reputation as a sleep backwater realm, maybe things like this were less rare than he'd thought. How many other country nobles had fallen to similar intrigues of love and betrayal? How many tormented ghosts like Alys and Lene haunted the moors of this land? Perhaps even a seasoned hunter of the undead such as himself didn't want to know the answer to that question. <br><br>"Between your books and this spell," he says, pointing to the curse near the back of the grimoire, "We may have a chance at fighting this thing. Curses like these are powerful spells, not to be trifld with lightly. But the curse can be broken just as it was lain. I've done such things before, not on ghosts, but on other forms of the walking dead. Men who were doomed to return to life as ghouls, devouring those they'd loved. Graveyards cursed to spew forth living skeletons like water from a fountain. I broke those curses, and I can break this one too, with your help." <br><br>"I know the ritual, but I've never performed it while facing an onslought of ghosts. I'll need you to watch my back just as I'm watching yours. We should go the tombs, I am thinking, and begin preparing the ritual to purify the bodies. And let us pray that La Flamme can buy us some time before the stranger makes himself fully present." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>29-12-2014, 21:14:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It made Hilda feel sick inside, the knowledge that she had harbored such a wicked spirit within her for ... a lifetime.&nbsp; &nbsp;She had never had a sibling, had never known her parents, but she had always imagined them as kind and loving.&nbsp; The Darlings, for all their eccentricities, had always striven to be kind and helpful to those in need, the living and the dead alike.<br><br>Or had they?&nbsp; Suddenly, Hilda found herself wondering what she had not known.&nbsp; The spirit inside her seized the uncertainty, and played upon it, and the blonde woman's fingers clutched the book she'd been holding so fiercely that the leather binding dented beneath her grip, and her knuckles popped in protest.&nbsp; The vision that came to her, without benefit of seance or any opening of her senses, was as powerful as any she'd ever had.<br><br>She saw Freda Darling, her foster mother, speaking quietly, over tea with a bereaved client, whispering assurances as she turned her head and ascertained that noone was looking before she collected coins, smiling benignly as she promised that Hilda would intercede.&nbsp; Later, Freda made her way quietly up into the attic of the house where Hilda had lived for so long, again making certain she was unobserved before entering and carefully hiding away the coins she had extorted behind a concealed board.&nbsp; Hilda could see stacks of coin, jewelry, figurines of china, gems ... which her foster mother's fingers stroked more gently than Hilda could ever remember upon her own skin.<br><br>And then she saw Heinrich Darling, comforting a weeping woman whose husband had passed, watched him lead her out into the garden behind the rose bushes ... where he claimed to be able to deliver a private, intimate message from her spouse where his wife and Hilda would not see.<br><br>She could feel Alys' sly, triumphant laughter echoing inside her head, and the sick feeling intensified.&nbsp; Hilda was certain that the spirit had shown her the truth, for all that spirits sometimes lie.&nbsp; She could feel the truth of it, as what she had seen suddenly brought a dozen, two dozen memories that had never truly made sense into sharp focus.<br><br>Hilda made a retching sound, and bolted from the groomsman's room, past the horses to the door.&nbsp; She clung there, drawing in great ragged gasps of the moisture-laden air, wiping at the skin of her arm with her free hand as if the soiled feeling that permeated her skin in the wake of unwelcome knowledge could be so easily dusted off.<br><br>"You can break the curse?&nbsp; Yes, there are protections that I can do that will hold off any normal spirits for a time." &nbsp;She spoke when Kovac reached her, her voice ragged as if her throat were raw from giving in to the sick feeling that still churned within her.<br><br>As La Flamme materialized, the sound of music began playing softly, a slow waltz from some long ago ball, perhaps even the last dance that the ill-fated manorhouse had seen.&nbsp; Kovac's spirit could see others moving in the room, not spirits true but rather only a pale, dim vision of what had once been ... young, well-to-do gentlemen from the surrounding countryside, dressed in simple finery, talked and laughed, a pair suddenly breaking off their conversation to hurry forward to greet a pretty, dark haired beauty whose eyes were wild and as full of pain as that of a wounded doe who had been cornered by chasing hounds.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>07-01-2015, 04:36:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kovac had no idea what was going through Hilda's mind at that moment. How could he? He had seen his share of suffering, made his share of bad decisions. More than his share. But they had been his own decisions, damn it. His own failings. Even when La Flamme had begun entering his visions, even as she now took an active hand in his existence, she hadn't made him do anything, hadn't made him stare into whatever abyss that Hilda's ghosts forced her to gaze upon. Was it any wonder that she ocassionally went silent like this? What was it that Alys was showing her, if that's even what was going on?<br><br>"Yes, I've broken curses before. It depends on the person who laid the curse, and how much weight they had behind their convictions. Here, we are dealing with jilted lovers, sore feelings. These things can be broken, can be scrubbed from the land with enough work. It's good we know where their bodies lie. That will help." He swalloed, not looking forward to that task. It would be hard enough to look upon Lene's face as it appeared in her spectral form--he did not want to see her corpse. But he saw little choice. <br><br>"Come," he said to Hilda, taking her hand while keeping another on the hilt of his sword. "Let's get to the crypt." <br><br>***<br><br>La Flamme floated through the room, taking careful note of the spirits who mingled there. Were th3ey like her? Could they still think and feel, despite their world having come to an end long ago? Or were they merely projections, emotional imprints left after the hellish events of that night? Not even La Flamme knew for sure, and that scared her more than she'd ever care to admit. <br><br>She kept an eye out for the Handsome Stranger, seeking any who might command the other ghosts' attention. And when the dark-hared beauty hove into view, La Flamme approached, curious as to the scene unfolding. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>13-01-2015, 22:16:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hilda nodded, little more jubilant about the task ahead of them than was Kovac.&nbsp; Such misery the inhabitants of this place had created for themselves, and, worse, they were not content with the lives they had destroyed.&nbsp; These were no spirits reaching out, trying to make amends for past wrongs or set things right for those left behind -- they wanted only to reap vengeance for wrongs done and pursue the same course that had led to disaster.<br><br>There was no helping them; there was only forcing them from this existence into the light where they would find peace or judgement, and thus freeing those who were still trapped here by their power.<br><br>Hilda's ice cold fingers grasped Kovac's hand, and followed.&nbsp; She was sorry for them all, so very dreadfully sorry, but there had been enough lives cut short and ruined.<br><br>Outside, the air smelled and felt of rain, a heavy chill damp that sucked away the body's heat.&nbsp; The wind had whipped up as well, picking up scattered debris and dried leaves from seasons past, sending them scurrying across the ground like rats, claws rasping ... or monstrous insects with scratching, scraping legs.&nbsp; Thunder rumbled in the distance, but it was much closer than it had been, and to Hilda's ears it had the undertone of ominous, threatening laughter.&nbsp; &nbsp; It was dim, though Hilda could no longer tell whether the afternoon had fled or the approaching storm had shrouded the sun.&nbsp; At the crypt's entrance, a figure stood, outlined against the stone, dressed in outdated afternoon finery the colors of a ragged rose, red and black ... the dark-haired sister.<br><strong><em><br>"Hurry," </em></strong>she called.&nbsp; <em>"He is here!"</em><br><br>La Flamme moved toward the unfolding spectral scene, recognizing the dark haired image as one of the sisters from the portraits hung in the place of honor.&nbsp; Of the other, there was no sign -- and those other spirits, projections, whatever they were -- did not seem to share the characteristic traits of the family that had built this ill-fated house.&nbsp; &nbsp; The dark-haired sister pushed her way through those who attempted to engage her in conversation ... and stopped at the glass doors leading outside, stopped dead as if she had been struck.&nbsp; Her image was faintly transparent, and La Flamme could see the wood, the glass, and bits of the windy garden through her heaving shoulders.<br><br>She stood there for a long moment, almost visibly composing herself, and then pushed at the glass paned door -- a ridiculous extravagance that had somehow remained intact even though the house had been empty.&nbsp; It opened, and the ghostly figure exited.<br><br>When she did, Kovac's bound spirit could sense a presence, a powerful dark force, outside.&nbsp; As the dark haired woman moved across the windy landscape, a figure came into view -- a blonde haired man, dressed in even finer garb than the others.&nbsp; He moved toward the approaching figure, a welcoming smile upon his face, his hand outstretched.&nbsp; His form was not like the others, not insubstantial, but tangible, and carried with it the fury of the approaching storm.&nbsp; The dark-haired spirit reached out to take his hand, and then she was gone ... and he turned his gaze to La Flamme, looked her up and down in a manner unmistakable, a hungry acquisitive expression upon his face as his smile shifted and became just for her.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>24-01-2015, 06:51:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He unslung his pack and began producing the tools he'd need for this ritual. The salt, of course, and a vial of holy water. A small pouch of powdered silver. Something that looked like a quill, but with a razor-sharp blade where the tip of the pen would normally be. And finally, a long, slender metal bar, the kind a thief might use to pry open a door. Or a grave robber might use to break into a crypt. <br><br>"The ritual must be performed directly above the bodies," Kovac explained, suddenly unable to make eye contact with Lene's ghost. "I must exhume the Stranger's remains. And Alys'. And yours. You...may not wish to be here for that." <br><br>But whatever Lene's choice, Kovac knew he had to work fast, had no time to dawdle. He began with the Stranger's crypt first, using the bar to pry open the alcove so he could bring the remains onto the floor of the tomb, before moving on to the sisters. He saved Lene for last, realizing at that moment that he was hte one who did not want to be here for the grim task. <br><br>****<br><br>In the mansion, Lene caught sight of the Stranger, and nearly felt the breath catch in her chest, though she had neither breath to catch, nor a chest to catch it in anymore. No matter, the illusion was all that was important. The illusion of life, of youth and vitality. The illusion of a naive girl in search of love, or at least lust. <br><br>She brought her gaze up towards the stranger, and if her own magics had not focused on commanding and charming those around her, she may well have been taken in by his wiles on sight. But instead she deliberately glanced at him but for a moment before looking away, affecting the airs of a shy young maiden. One hand went up to twirl a lock of her crimson hair,and she stole another glance at the Stranger, just as a bashful suitor might. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>01-02-2015, 18:43:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Even without the painting, Hilda would have known Lene.&nbsp; Her memory was sharper, even, than Alys' lover -- a connection that was as tightly, jealously grasped.&nbsp; For a moment, there was a sense of joy, relief, completeness.&nbsp; In a flash, Hilda got small glimpses of their life growing up in Stamford House, of laughter and love and secrets shared.&nbsp; As if the revelation infuriated Alys, the spirit who had entwined herself inside Hilda,&nbsp; the medium was immediately assailed with countering images -- of Lene in the arms of the stranger who was not, after all, a stranger, of Lene in Kovac's bed as the two of them moved in a dance whose only music was the song of their passion.<br><br>The emotion that flooded through Hilda at the unwanted spying was not recognizable between Alys' and her own, and grimly Hilda acknowledged that perhaps it did not truly matter.&nbsp; She had no claim over Kovac, and certainly Alys had none.&nbsp; &nbsp;And, though she thought Alys had not intended her seeing, she understood that it had not been the sad-eyed sister who initiated the cycles of betrayal.&nbsp; Alys had wanted what she did not have, particularly if she thought any favored her sister over her.&nbsp; Envy and resentment had poisoned the love and kinship between them.<br><br>Lene's hand, solid and warm as forgiveness, reached out and clasped Hilda's wrist for a moment as Kovac wrestled open the door, and Alys' roil of emotion faded into a manageable haze, no worse than the effects of too much wine at dinner the night before.&nbsp; Hilda nodded her thanks, her hand brushing the others for a brief moment before the two swept into the crypt behind Kovac as he made his preparation.<br><br>As Kovac tended to his, Hilda began her own, drawing a piece of charcoal from a pocket in her skirts and drawing the symbols of protection, of grace, across the crypt's threshold.<br><br><em>"Where else would I be?"</em> Lene asked, the corners of her lips lifting in a soft smile that had no trace of fear. <em> "Free me, Kovac ... free us all ... and forgive yourself.&nbsp; Life is too short for regrets."<br></em><br>Breaking the seal was the hardest part, though thankfully the scent that arose was more dust and mold, staleness, than decay.&nbsp; The bodies that Kovac drew out, as Hilda implored the spirits of the dead to leave the trials of life behind and to ascend into the light and welcome of what awaited, were light as dolls, resisting disturbance no more than a mote of lint resists a breeze.<br>The time between internment and the present had been great enough, the undertaker's work competent enough, that there was little but a husk over the bones dressed in party finery, a pale ghost that hinted at what had been before movement cracked the illusion.&nbsp; The clothing was stained in places, tinder dry, and the hair of each corpse was the most vibrant sign of life that was, long locks that shone in the lamplight, tendrils reaching out like roots.<br><br>There was no horror on the spirit's face, but Hilda could feel Alys' rage, her fear, her anger at being thwarted, all wrapped in the thick cocoon of her determination, her desire to see this ended.&nbsp; &nbsp;Try as she might, at least for now her hold on Hilda had been broken, though the dead, drying roots remained.<br><br>-------<br><br>At the mansion, the stranger's image solidified, as did those of long ago guests, though only his had the fire of presence.&nbsp; His was like a beacon, a hungry beacon, filled with lust and longing, need and rage, the fury of promises broken.<br><br>With an unearthly grace, he moved through the others, his eyes locked upon the target before him.&nbsp; Like a wave crashing over the sand, the thought that she, this visage of vibrant loveliness, was all that existed for him in the moment swept out and over La Flamme, a compulsion that seemed to be not an extension of the presence's will, but rather the fell power that had chained him here.<br><br><strong>"Come to me, sweet flame,"</strong> he whispered, command and entreaty in the husky voice of desire.&nbsp; &nbsp;Yet, for just a moment, the compulsion flickered, as his eyes looked beyond her, the welcoming smile becoming a faint sneer of contemptuous triumph meant not for her, not for whatever woman had played out this act before her, but for the audience for whom it had been meant.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>12-02-2015, 04:36:26</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The state of decay had not been as bad as he’d feared. Indeed, had he not seen far worse? He’d fought ghouls who’d emerged from swamps, their bloated forms riven with mire and crawling things. He’d seen the shriveled, blackened husks of people who had died in fires stand upright, and begin shuffling their wretched way towards vengeance. But the site before him now unnerved him more than he’d expected. Not The Stranger’s corpse, but that of the sisters. Especially Lene. As he prepared the bodies for the ritual, he found he could not look into the face of what had once been the dark haired sister. <br><br>And there was a pang of guilt there, too. Guilt in knowing that he couldn’t save Lene, only give her oblivion. And guilt about Hilda, for she had to know by now.&nbsp; He hadn’t breathed a word about what had happened after he’d retired to bed last night. For if Alys knew, then Hilda certainly knew. And Alys, in all of her jealously, surely would have known. <br><br>But there was no time to dwell on his indiscretion, he knew he must begin the ritual. He finalized his preparations by sprinkling a ring of salt around each of the bodies, then he began to pray. <br><br>“Spirits of the dead, your feud here is done,<br>Like a ship in the storm, you soul has been tossed<br>The earthly desires still call to you<br>Greed, Vengeance, Anger, Lust, all as strongly as in life<br>But these are things for the living—you must let them go<br>Shed them like a man shedding a coat inside a warm house<br>Release yourself from this cycle,<br>Release yourself from this curse.”<br><br>He took a deep breath. That prayer was only the beginning of the ritual, and he hoped that whatever diversion La Flamme was creating would buy him enough time to break the curse. <br><br>***<br>&nbsp;Inside the mansion, La Flamme affected the bearings of a shy maid, or at least a maid who wanted to be seen as shy. She would glance at the figure of The Stranger, and then look away, only to glance again .A small gesture, and her cheeks blushed as if she still lived. <br><br>“You are a visitor here as well, my lord?” she asked The Stranger in a small, almost fragile voice. “I am new to these lands, and is there anything more dreadful than a party where you know not a soul?” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>17-02-2015, 18:30:07</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				As Kovac began the ritual, Hilda knelt on the stone of the crypt floor and prayed as well.&nbsp; She did not, as Kovac did, pray to a specific god, but rather to the light, asking it to come for her cousins and grant them peace, to grant them an end to their sorrows and suffering, to show them the path to forgiveness and acceptance.<br><br>She could feel Alys within her, the spirit's fear clawing at her own emotions, seeking to incite a like response.&nbsp; Every terror that she had ever had made itself manifest there in the lonely, dusty darkness.&nbsp; She could hear the soft whispers from the walls, voices from crypts that were almost certainly empty -- this was no Godefroy site replete with history, but a home built specifically for Alys and Lene.&nbsp; Was even their mother buried here?&nbsp; If Alys knew the answer to Hilda's almost despairing silent question, she was not interested enough to give answer.<br><br>When that fear did not escape her logic, soft white tendrils of silk began drifting down from the ceilings, blowing upon the breeze from the walls -- spider webs, soft, delicate, sticky.&nbsp; Hilda could feel them sticking to her hair, her clothes, and bile rose in her throat as skittering sounds reached her ears despite the storm outside, tiny dark menacing shapes dropping down on tiny draglines as her skin began to crawl in protest.&nbsp; Hilda bit down hard on her tongue to arrest a scream, her mouth filling with the coppery taste of blood.<br><br>Within her, Alys grew more desperate to break through the bindings that Hilda had wrought.&nbsp; Though she knew that there was no physical manifestation, no living, fleshy parasite within her, it seemed that the medium could feel the beginnings of a sharp tearing within her as Alys fought.<br><br>The soft scent of violets wafted through the tomb, mingling with the faint scents of dust and decay.&nbsp; Oddly, it calmed Hilda's fears, but as she breathed in the gentle perfume, Alys' struggles within her only intensified.&nbsp; Hilda's breath sucked in, a sharp protest as the tearing sensation grew worse, and her call to the light was silenced as she fought to keep the spirit from ... tearing from her?&nbsp; Taking control?<br><br>"Hurry, Kovac ... <strong>please</strong>."&nbsp; Her plea was little more than a whisper as her hands folded across her stomach, nails biting into the flesh of her arms as she sought control of the pain.<br><br>---------------<br><br>The party continued on, replaying a scene from decades before, whispers of conversation unchanged by La Flamme's actions or The Stranger's arrival.&nbsp; Only the two of them seemed fully materialized, fully solid, but there was nothing mortal about the malevolence of this visitor to Stamford House.&nbsp; The eyes glowed with an unearthly hunger that drew at the senses, as if the spirit wished to gobble down whatever was pleasing to his eyes, and the scent of greed seemed to seep through the fine woven fabric of his clothes, pouring from every weave and every pour, like some distant decay born on the wind, sweet and sticky.<br><br><strong><em>"No, I am no visitor."</em></strong>&nbsp; The spirit's voice was melodious, deep and of a pleasing timber, the lines of his face symmetric and drawing of the eyes, handsome and strong, vital and alive, yet somehow stretched and brittle.&nbsp; He had been a man more beautiful than handsome, ethereal more than substantial, in life, should his form hold true.&nbsp; &nbsp; There was a sensual knowledge in his gaze as he reached out for the maiden La Flamme's hand and lifted it to his lips, heat and a clinging softness to the skin there as his breath stirred her illusory flesh.&nbsp; <strong><em>"This is my home.&nbsp; Yet you miss little in knowing none of these here - petty lordlings all, smug and superior in the knowledge of wealth they did not earn, of lands that their fathers and grandfathers hold, of names that are matched with deeds as dry as dust.&nbsp; &nbsp;What is your name, my lovely?&nbsp; For surely there has been nothing of vibrant beauty such as you possess within these walls since they were raised."</em></strong><br><br>-------------<br><br>Inside the crypt, Alys burst free from Hilda's bindings, the blue and white ethereal light of her essence, tinged with a sickly black and green glow, lighting the crypt with a fell glow like phosphorous as it poured through Hilda's mouth.&nbsp; Hilda gagged, coughed, and spit on the foul taste, but she could not find the will to draw it back in.&nbsp; Her face twisted in disgust, and terror, and pity -- for herself, for Kovac, for her cousins .... perhaps for them all.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>02-03-2015, 04:55:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The pained look on Hilda's face pierced Kovac's heart like a stiletto. Inthat moment he wanted to run to her, to close the short gap between them and hold her to his chest. Anything to keep her from that pain. <br><br>But he couldnot interrupt the ritual, not now. The only way to help Hilda was to continue, like re-setting a broken bone so it can heal. <br><br>And there were Lene's words in his head, begging him to hurry. He gritted his teeth and pressed on, his fingers plucking at the ectoplasmic tendrils that now floated through the air, seeming to cling to everything. His voice grew deeper and more sonorous as his chanting continued, until his words souneded no longer human. And now his hands moved in a blur, seeming to weave portions of those tendrils into a sphere. <br><br>"There is rest beyond, there is peace beyond," he spoke in echoing tones. "You must find it now, find it now or be sent there. Now return, return to oblivion of your own free will, while that choice still remains to you."<br><br>----<br><br>Deception was part and parcel to La Flamme's very nature, and so her face betrayed nothing when he spoke of himself as the true master of this place. In life, when she had read nearly every treatise in her teacher's possession, she had come across tales of such things. Spirits who had grown so powerful, that their chosen haunt was like a prism for their own powers. Is this what the house was, just a tool for The Stranger's fell plans?"<br><br>The right and wrong of it meant nothing to her. What did she care if this spectre used the mansion to lure victims? If that's what this was, then it was clever. But this man, this thing, had a hautiness to him. An arrogance she had only seen in her former mentor. And this Stranger carried so many of her mentor's traits, so many of his flaws. For a moment, she relished the thought of seeing this rival ghost and his precious mansion burned clean down to ash and tar. <br><br>"I am called Babbette, my lord," she lied. "I journey to Mordent," she said, not truthful. Just truthful enough. "And I sought shelter here for the night. But I see...I am not alone. What are these, my lord? Ghosts? Shadows of things past?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>10-03-2015, 01:27:06</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Alys Godefroy had been beautiful in life, and that beauty clung to her shade as it manifested itself in the cold marble of the tomb that held her earthly remains.&nbsp; It was a cold beauty, as cold as the stone that lined the floor and walls, perfection without warmth or softness.&nbsp; Only her eyes showed warmth, but it was no nurturing, cleansing force but something molten, dark, and hungry as she held up her hands to the heavens and swept them down toward Kovac.&nbsp; The gesture was one of defiance and seduction both, inviting both the light above and the mortal man who chanted his rote prayers like a child's litany against the darkness to behold her loveliness.<br><br>The white, virginal gown -- a bridal gown, perhaps, or even the dress that she had been lain to rest in, a symbol of her life lost too young -- that draped her form hugged curves of sweetly ripe proportions, reminiscent of both Lene's form and Hilda's.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her hunger, her desire, radiated from her like perfume, wafting through the empty marble meant to contain the memory of family.&nbsp; It swept aside the billowing, flowing tendrils and reached out for Kovac, brushing against his skin like a lover's kiss, soft with the undertone of teeth, and flowed into his mouth and nostrils with the sweet promise of kisses shared, the scent of skin, and grass and violets crushed beneath straining bodies.<br><br>Hilda tried to rise, to interpose herself between the shade and Kovac, but she staggered and fell to her knees, crying out at the sharp pain when her skirts did not provide enough cushion.<br><br>The power of the shade's allure was strong, clouding Kovac's mind and calling to his body ... the chill grace of his beauty freezing his vocal cords even as he called upon the powers of light.<br><br>And then Lene was there, between them, her face filled with resolve and sorrow as she faced her twin and drew into herself the numbing energy that had been meant for Kovac.<br><br>"Hurry," she said once more, turning her head for one last look as she smiled, gently, and nodded.&nbsp; "I will remember ... always."<br><br>"No!" Alys' scream was one of rage, and it echoed through the crypt and billowed out into the approaching storm.&nbsp; "They will take her from you my lord, and me as well!"<br><br><hr><br>"Babbette ..." the spirit's voice caressed the name, saying it as if it were the invocation of a blessing, or the magical key to riches beyond imagination.&nbsp; "A lovely name for a lovely flower, the loveliest flower in this sad, neglected garden."<br><br>At La Flamme's question, the spirit's eyes flicked from her face to the others, like a horse's tail flicking away a bothersome fly.&nbsp; "They are those who have learned the danger of holding themselves too high, my sweet.&nbsp; &nbsp; They are my students ... recipients of a lesson learned far too late."<br><br>He studied the face of the form La Flamme had taken, head cocking and turning like that of a hunting hound determining whether something that did not run was prey or not. &nbsp;"Are you in need of instruction? There is much I could teach you." <br><br>The spirit had been handsome indeed in life, his features strong, yet with a trace of smooth delicacy.&nbsp; His lips were full, giving his serious demeanor the look of a boyish pout.&nbsp; His eyes were dark and hinted at secrets best shared after night had fallen, and his hands were beautifully shaped, with long and dextrous fingers.&nbsp; Perhaps he had only drawn the glamour of beauty to him in death, but if so he he carried the illusion with the air of one who knew his appeal, trusted it.<br><br>In the distance, punctuating a rumble of thunder, a sharp crack of iron upon stone sounded, followed by a desperate cry, a plea for rescue.<br><br>Immediately, the spirit's eyes slid away from the illusion of Babbette, and focused upon the direction of the crypt.&nbsp; He smiled faintly, one bow of his lips rising in a practiced, aristocratic sneer, and then softened, turning his head to address La Flamme.<br><br>"I am afraid I cannot tarry, lovely flower, but worry not.&nbsp; When I have claimed that which is mine, I shall return for you ... and you, too, will be mine ... forever."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>TheBlackRider</strong> on <strong>29-03-2015, 02:10:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Looking back, Kovac would tell himself that he felt no pull from Alys' charms. That he'd been made of ice and iron, and had kept plunging through that grim and necessary ritual as if she were just a whisper on the wind. But there, in the moment, he nearly lost himself yet again. The sudden desire for her tore at his mind until the ritual was nearly a foggy memory. Why not give in to the lust? Why stop with Lene? Who was he to Deny Alys? To deny Anyone?<br><br>And it was only Lene who kept him from slipping over the edge.&nbsp; He felt himself recoil from that precipice, felt his heart steel itself to Alys once more. And so he continued. He drew a small kife from his belt, far too short and slim to make a useful weapon, but sharp as any razor, as any shard of glass. <br><br>"As you suffered, I suffer. As you bleed, I bleed." It didn't matter whether any of them had died from fatal wounds--all that mattered was the heart of the ritual. The showing of empathy even for those who sought to hinder him. Most of the time, Kovac never gave that much thought. Didn't waste much time worrying over the souls of those who'd seek to do him harm. It was a cold world, even for priests. Especially for priests. And there was only so much of oneself to give. No, most of the time it was pistol and ball, sword and holy flame for his enemies. <br><br>But in the middle of that psychic battle, as the spirits of the fair and dark twins whirled about him, the battle-priest did something he rarely did these days. He believed. A sudden sureness, a faith that The Morninglord could snatch victory from defeat, bolstered him as he cut deep into his palm. The blood dripped steadily from his hands, and with a word he could have healed the wound. <br><br>Instead, he walked to each corpse, letting is blood trickle onto their foreheads. "We share in this, one last taste of the earth, one last taste of the world. Go no, make the world a more peaceful place. So let it be done." <br><br>Those were the last of the words, but the ritual would take time now, the geas he had placed on the souls would need time to manifest, to send them full into the land of the eternal dead. Now, he had to keep Hilda and himself safe. <br><br>La Flamme, he thought, more time, all I need is more time! <br><br>***<br><br>The flame-spectre heard her human host's plea, and as The Stranger turned away from her, she searched for some way to delay him with her magic. She was here, she knew, against the very will of the house, if it could be said to have a will. Like a splinter working its way out of an old wound, La Flamme could feel forces working against her, working against anything foreign here. And what was more foreigner this house of the dead, than another unliving, unwelcome creature?<br><br>So much of the house was beyond her control--whether directly warded by the Stranger, or by some other, deeper magic, she did not know. But she had little time to waste, and she needed to keep the Stranger stalled. <br><br>"Why good sir," La Flamme called to him, "Don't you know it's rude to turn your back on a guest? Would you leave me as unattended as all these candles?" As she spoke, the ghastly flames on the candles danced far higher than they should have, licked the walls threateningly. <br><br>"A hazard, no?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Ravenloft: A Laying of Spirits (Briar Rose &amp; TheBlackRider)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Gypsy</strong> on <strong>08-04-2015, 02:38:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The pain of separation at first seemed like nothing Hilda had ever experienced.&nbsp; The pain was the cutting of winter wind on drenched skin, like a knife that plunged deep to the bone.&nbsp; For a moment, she was lost in the sensation, wishing only for the death that she could sense in the darkness below.<br><br>It was Kovac's prayers, his words, his faith, that provided enough warmth and light for her to sense the difference, and to strive toward it.&nbsp; She did so with the barest of movements, the lifting of her head and the opening of her eyes, and she could see him as if from a great distance above, the nimbus of his divine magic like the sun peeking from behind tortured clouds.<br><br>The pain she felt came into sudden focus, and she remembered what it was -- her tiny fingers clasped desperate upon the rock, her feet bare of shoes, toes curled into sharp cracks in the stone as rain beat down, slicking the rock and loosening her hold even as the cold leeched life from her body as it struggled against the icy hands of the wind.<br><br>It had been Alys that reached for her then, and she had taken that spirit inside her in return for rescue.&nbsp; She had shared the life she had been given, but she had not known the price then.&nbsp; Somewhere down inside her, beneath the protest, Hilda wondered whether it would have mattered if she HAD known.&nbsp; The cold was so biting, and the space beneath her so vast and terrifying ...<br><br>Little by little, she forced herself to her feet, and stumbled against the wind to the side of the Morninglord's warrior priest.&nbsp; She raised her hands, and opened herself to the cold and the pain, and screamed out to the accompanying rumble of thunder ... <br><br>She could see the feathery, mistlike connection remaining between herself and her cousin's spirit.&nbsp; It glimmered, faintly, like glowworms amongst the grass and stone along the path that Alys had trod when sneaking out of the house to visit the stable hand, her lover ... and Hilda sent the fury of the storm that sought to claim her down that trail, straight into Alys.<br><br>Host, intruder alike screamed their pain, their fear, their loss and defiance, into the wind ... and the ghostly form of the long dead began to glimmer, with tiny, glimmering grains of light flaking off her like sand and whirling like mites of dust in the crypt ... borne toward the door.<br><br><hr><br>At La Flamme's challenge, the man turned, his handsome face rippling and showing a hint of ugly passion beneath.&nbsp; &nbsp;"Your flame burns hot, I see.&nbsp; Perhaps, I should dally a moment after all.&nbsp; Do you burn for me, my lady?&nbsp; Show me ... how hot ... lovely Babette."<br><br>He gestured toward the flames on the candles, and they rose higher, climbing the walls, singing the surface ... but even as the paint blackened, La Flamme could see new color, like fresh skin beneath the surface, forming and pushing away the soot and char.&nbsp; &nbsp;The wind picked up, rolling through the open doors, whipping around the walls and gathering the flames ... and blew them toward the one that sought to deny him.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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