Chapter 5: Murder at Holly House
As the trio approached the house, the figure playing the violin stops and waves. He had brown hair, was 6 feet tall, decked out in a traveler's outfit, and wore half-rimmed glasses with a blue tinge. His voice revealed a Kartakan Vaasi accent.
"Good evening, lads!" the musician greeted.
"My name is Luke Kyros. I hope that you will find your stay at Holly house most enjoyable."
Darryl climbed up to the balcony that Luke was on.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, too." Luke said.
The door below opened, and the greeter stepped out. He was a young boy, around age 15, had black hair, green eyes, and wore a drab gray outfit.
"Welcome to Holly House," the greeter said, his voice tinged with a Nova Vaasan accent.
"I am Aaron Callswana."
Aaron looks up at Luke and Darryl.
"Sir, please come down. You have to register at the desk."
"No thank, you sir, I like it up here." Darryl replied.
"Just sign me in as Darryl."
A knock at the balcony door was heard. It sounded like someone was frantic to get on the other side.
"Lucas, you better not be consorting with the creatures of the night again!"
The voice of a stern, angry woman in her early twenties could be heard. Luke hurriedly opened the door.
A woman clad in red robes, tattoos of various flowing designs, and a shaved head could be seen. She held a scourge in her right hand, and wore an amulet with a symbol of a black lance.
"Priestess of the Lawgiver," Dromir muttered.
"Who?" Ace asked.
"A fool of a God who craves obedience and attention to inflate his vast ego. Other than that, he is nothing more than a mortal."
Upon looking at the sight of Darryl, the woman unseathes her short sword.
"Gobyns!" she shouted.
"I am NOT a Goblyn!" Darryl roared.
"I am a Hobgoblin! There is a difference!"
"Really?" the woman indigantly asked.
"All of you seem alike to me: illiterate and stupid."
Darryl pulls out his knife.
"You will regret this, wench!"
Dromir climbed to the balcony, while Ace climbed up halfway, kicked off the wall to do a back-flip, and catched the railing and flipped himself over in one fell swoop."
A woman barged in between the feuding groups. She held a musket, who in her late 20s or early 30s, was five feet, had light brown hair and green eyes.
"Nobody starts a fight in my inn without getting some lead blown in their face!" the woman screamed.
The priestess, Ace, Dromir, and Darryl all backed down.
"And just who are you three?" the woman snorted.
"Darryl, Dromir, and Ace." Darryl answered.
"We are but simple travelers. We took offense to what she said. We were defending our honor."
"I should have known. Melinda is notorious for her xenophobia."
The priestess, now revealed as Melinda, merely shrugged and glared at Darryl.
My first campaign!
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Gonzoron of the FoS
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Gwenfloor
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"I am Ethilheld, the innkeeper. I make sure to keep my inn a safe place. If you want to stay here, it will cost 10 gold pieces for each of you!"
Everyone paid up. Ace and Dromir went to the bar, while Darryl decided to stay in the wilderness. Nobody knew why.
Dromir and Ace met a sorry looking fellow who was drinking mugs of ale, apparently to drown his sorrows. He was 5'8", in his mid-40s, had blonde hair and hazel eyes, and wore a white apron over artisan's clothes. Traces of stone dust on his frame revealed him to be a sculptor. The woman who was serving him, Janet the barkeep, seemed to not care, as long as the money kept flowing in. She was 4'11", early 40s, had short black hair, blue eyes, wears clean, meticulous, worker's clothes, and a red kerchief on head.
"Why are you so glum?" Ace asked.
"I am Alfonse Yvonne, a sculptor from Dementlieau. I was an expert sculptor, but now, I am lucky enough to get three meals a day. I drown my sorrows, hoping to have the mercy of death take me out of this wretched abbattoir."
Dromir walked up to Alfonse.
"If you wish, I can always help you with your plight." Dromir whispered.
"Unfortunately, I am afraid of becoming undead, a ghost, or worse. Some souls cannot find peace, even in the embrace of the reaper. I am afraid to live, yet afraid to die."
Alfonse returned to his room, bottle of wine in hand.
As Ace retired to his room, he heard whispers in Alfonse's room. He silently jumped across several balconies. He saw Aaron sitting one balcony away from Alfonse's. Ace opened the door and stepped into Alfonse's room.
Shortly thereafter, about 15 seconds, Ace ran back onto the balcony, faer and anxiety racing through the event that fell before him. Aaron looked at Ace suspiciously. Ace pretended to be a drunkard, but this ruse could not be kept up as he expertly jumped over to Aaron's balcony with acrobatic finesse.
"What were you doing in Alfonse's room?" Aaron asked.
"Nothing! Nothing at all! Just checking up on him."
A piercing scream, that of Janet's could be heard from Alfonse's room. Everyone in the inn rushed to see the source of fright.
Alfonse was murdered.
Everyone paid up. Ace and Dromir went to the bar, while Darryl decided to stay in the wilderness. Nobody knew why.
Dromir and Ace met a sorry looking fellow who was drinking mugs of ale, apparently to drown his sorrows. He was 5'8", in his mid-40s, had blonde hair and hazel eyes, and wore a white apron over artisan's clothes. Traces of stone dust on his frame revealed him to be a sculptor. The woman who was serving him, Janet the barkeep, seemed to not care, as long as the money kept flowing in. She was 4'11", early 40s, had short black hair, blue eyes, wears clean, meticulous, worker's clothes, and a red kerchief on head.
"Why are you so glum?" Ace asked.
"I am Alfonse Yvonne, a sculptor from Dementlieau. I was an expert sculptor, but now, I am lucky enough to get three meals a day. I drown my sorrows, hoping to have the mercy of death take me out of this wretched abbattoir."
Dromir walked up to Alfonse.
"If you wish, I can always help you with your plight." Dromir whispered.
"Unfortunately, I am afraid of becoming undead, a ghost, or worse. Some souls cannot find peace, even in the embrace of the reaper. I am afraid to live, yet afraid to die."
Alfonse returned to his room, bottle of wine in hand.
As Ace retired to his room, he heard whispers in Alfonse's room. He silently jumped across several balconies. He saw Aaron sitting one balcony away from Alfonse's. Ace opened the door and stepped into Alfonse's room.
Shortly thereafter, about 15 seconds, Ace ran back onto the balcony, faer and anxiety racing through the event that fell before him. Aaron looked at Ace suspiciously. Ace pretended to be a drunkard, but this ruse could not be kept up as he expertly jumped over to Aaron's balcony with acrobatic finesse.
"What were you doing in Alfonse's room?" Aaron asked.
"Nothing! Nothing at all! Just checking up on him."
A piercing scream, that of Janet's could be heard from Alfonse's room. Everyone in the inn rushed to see the source of fright.
Alfonse was murdered.
"Deities are no more than mortals with supernatural powers, and thus are capable of making mistakes."
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign
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Gwenfloor
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Murder at Holly House, Part II
Everybody at the inn was gathered in front of a circular table, numbering 12 people, including Dromir, Ace, and Darryl, the latter returned with Kyros from the wilderness at the sound of the scream.
Everyone was talking and whispering fervently, until Ethilheld slammed the table.
"Silence!" Ethilheld exclaimed.
"A murderer sleeps among us, and we must find out who the killer is. We will first start with questioning the motives. Malina is first."
"I hated the man, true, but I would not kill him!" exclaimed Malina.
"We were business partners in Barovia. Merchants, if you will. We worked together, along with Vincent Delgado, a halfling merchant staying at this house."
A plump halfling, three and a half feet tall, black hair and green eyes, was sitting on a chair which had a stack of books piled on to it in order for him to overlook the area.
"Why would we want to kill him?" Vincent asked.
"We have no motive, plus it would hurt our business if we killed our translator!"
"What about you, Janet?" Ethilheld asked.
"I did not care about his plight, only as long as he kept paying me. I lost my best customer, why would I want him dead? I did not even know him that well!"
"I saw Ace run out of Alfonse's room, his face bone white and his eyes coal black, like he saw a ghost!" Aaron exclaimed.
"Indeed, and what were you doing in Alfonse's room?" Ethelhild asks.
"I was going to check up on the poor fellow, but I foun him dead, his neck slit open and a bloodstained letter in his hands! I have it right here!"
Ace took out the envelope. It was Alfonse's will, hastily scribbled down, as though the man knew he were about to die.
"You are in hot water, Ace." Ethelhild said coldly.
"But you may not be the murderer, and you may be telling the truth. Give me the envelope."
"Unfortunately, I cannot read Mordentish."
"I can!" Vincent exclaimed.
"It reads, 'To my beloved, Heather Ina, whom I give 80% of my wealth to, and 20% to Malina.'"
"I am Heather."
A woman, in her mid-teens, of light build, light auburn red hair, green eyes, donned in a sheepskin vest and a red and black checkered kilt.
"Alfonse is your lover, correct?" Ethelhild asked.
"Correct."
"Did you have anything against him?"
"No, I loved him through and through! I did not want his money. I am a simple herbalist. I am more than content living off the land. He was suicidal, could it be that...?"
Heather started crying.
"And what about Kyros?" Ethelhild asked.
"I was away with this chap, Darryl, hunting some deer. How could I kill someone who was not within my vicinity?"
"That can be confirmed by several of us. Darryl and Luke Kyros have alibis. They could not have snuck in, as no dirt, foot-prints, or leaves could be found in Alfonse's bedroom."
"He could have commited suicide." Dromir replied.
"He was killed with surgical precision, plus he was drunk. I saw the body, and trust me, I am a doctor."
A man in his mid-20s, medium build, had dark brown hair, blue eyes, a midnight purple cloak, and a yellow and red scarf, explained his observation from across the table."
"Besides, I was at the bar. I saw that man whispering something to Alfonse, who then went upstairs." the man pointed to Dromir.
"More than a little suspicious, if you ask me."
"And just who are you?" Dromir asked.
"Call me Crow. I am a doctor, or as I am called in Vallaki, a butcher. I learned my knowledge of the healing arts from observing the wounds and deaths of animals."
Luke looked toward Ethelheld. A woman sat next to her. She was in her mid 20s, medium build, had light glossy black hair, pale hazel eyes, and wore a merchant's outfit. She was silent throughout the whole conversation, and appeared nervous.
"Ah, Florica!" Luke exclaimed.
"We did not hear from you and Ethelheld's side of the story, yet!"
"And why would you assume that both of us have the same story to tell?" Ethelheld asked.
"Well, you two are always together, plus Florica is the only one to openly talk in your presence. You two seem more than simple acquantinces."
"We are..." Ethelheld hesitated for a moment.
"Lovers, and Alfonse did not approve of our companionship. We were afraid that he would tell it to the commoners in the village, and we would surely be lynched. Our preferences are forbidden by tradition, and I knew that Alfonse could have been the death of Florica and I."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of." Ace consoled.
"There are far worse beings in this world, and your preferences do not deserve to make you villains. Both of you were just fearing for your lives."
I will take a break right now. Who do you think is the real killer? Guesses and explanations are welcome!
Everybody at the inn was gathered in front of a circular table, numbering 12 people, including Dromir, Ace, and Darryl, the latter returned with Kyros from the wilderness at the sound of the scream.
Everyone was talking and whispering fervently, until Ethilheld slammed the table.
"Silence!" Ethilheld exclaimed.
"A murderer sleeps among us, and we must find out who the killer is. We will first start with questioning the motives. Malina is first."
"I hated the man, true, but I would not kill him!" exclaimed Malina.
"We were business partners in Barovia. Merchants, if you will. We worked together, along with Vincent Delgado, a halfling merchant staying at this house."
A plump halfling, three and a half feet tall, black hair and green eyes, was sitting on a chair which had a stack of books piled on to it in order for him to overlook the area.
"Why would we want to kill him?" Vincent asked.
"We have no motive, plus it would hurt our business if we killed our translator!"
"What about you, Janet?" Ethilheld asked.
"I did not care about his plight, only as long as he kept paying me. I lost my best customer, why would I want him dead? I did not even know him that well!"
"I saw Ace run out of Alfonse's room, his face bone white and his eyes coal black, like he saw a ghost!" Aaron exclaimed.
"Indeed, and what were you doing in Alfonse's room?" Ethelhild asks.
"I was going to check up on the poor fellow, but I foun him dead, his neck slit open and a bloodstained letter in his hands! I have it right here!"
Ace took out the envelope. It was Alfonse's will, hastily scribbled down, as though the man knew he were about to die.
"You are in hot water, Ace." Ethelhild said coldly.
"But you may not be the murderer, and you may be telling the truth. Give me the envelope."
"Unfortunately, I cannot read Mordentish."
"I can!" Vincent exclaimed.
"It reads, 'To my beloved, Heather Ina, whom I give 80% of my wealth to, and 20% to Malina.'"
"I am Heather."
A woman, in her mid-teens, of light build, light auburn red hair, green eyes, donned in a sheepskin vest and a red and black checkered kilt.
"Alfonse is your lover, correct?" Ethelhild asked.
"Correct."
"Did you have anything against him?"
"No, I loved him through and through! I did not want his money. I am a simple herbalist. I am more than content living off the land. He was suicidal, could it be that...?"
Heather started crying.
"And what about Kyros?" Ethelhild asked.
"I was away with this chap, Darryl, hunting some deer. How could I kill someone who was not within my vicinity?"
"That can be confirmed by several of us. Darryl and Luke Kyros have alibis. They could not have snuck in, as no dirt, foot-prints, or leaves could be found in Alfonse's bedroom."
"He could have commited suicide." Dromir replied.
"He was killed with surgical precision, plus he was drunk. I saw the body, and trust me, I am a doctor."
A man in his mid-20s, medium build, had dark brown hair, blue eyes, a midnight purple cloak, and a yellow and red scarf, explained his observation from across the table."
"Besides, I was at the bar. I saw that man whispering something to Alfonse, who then went upstairs." the man pointed to Dromir.
"More than a little suspicious, if you ask me."
"And just who are you?" Dromir asked.
"Call me Crow. I am a doctor, or as I am called in Vallaki, a butcher. I learned my knowledge of the healing arts from observing the wounds and deaths of animals."
Luke looked toward Ethelheld. A woman sat next to her. She was in her mid 20s, medium build, had light glossy black hair, pale hazel eyes, and wore a merchant's outfit. She was silent throughout the whole conversation, and appeared nervous.
"Ah, Florica!" Luke exclaimed.
"We did not hear from you and Ethelheld's side of the story, yet!"
"And why would you assume that both of us have the same story to tell?" Ethelheld asked.
"Well, you two are always together, plus Florica is the only one to openly talk in your presence. You two seem more than simple acquantinces."
"We are..." Ethelheld hesitated for a moment.
"Lovers, and Alfonse did not approve of our companionship. We were afraid that he would tell it to the commoners in the village, and we would surely be lynched. Our preferences are forbidden by tradition, and I knew that Alfonse could have been the death of Florica and I."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of." Ace consoled.
"There are far worse beings in this world, and your preferences do not deserve to make you villains. Both of you were just fearing for your lives."
I will take a break right now. Who do you think is the real killer? Guesses and explanations are welcome!
"Deities are no more than mortals with supernatural powers, and thus are capable of making mistakes."
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign
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Gonzoron of the FoS
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Don't worry, it takes time to read long passages like this, and especially on a weekend you won't always get the fastest reply. 
From the details you've presented, I'd still suspect Ace if he wasn't a PC. But I'm going to go with Aaron. I don't know his motive, but he was spotted near the scene of the crime.... ??
From the details you've presented, I'd still suspect Ace if he wasn't a PC.
But I'm going to go with Aaron. I don't know his motive, but he was spotted near the scene of the crime.... ??"We're realistic heroes. We're not here to save the world, just nudge the world into a better place."
Gwenfloor wrote:Really? No thoughts, ideas, or comments?
I envy you. I never really had as much input about my campaign logs as you've had til now. I wonder many times what is wrong with my campaign, guess it's too long logs.... or not posting them in board messages.
Alex
Zumba d'Oxossi (A Stitch in Souragne)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
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Gwenfloor
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Thank you for telling me. I'll finish the conclusion later. It will leave you shocked!gonzoron wrote:Don't worry, it takes time to read long passages like this, and especially on a weekend you won't always get the fastest reply.
From the details you've presented, I'd still suspect Ace if he wasn't a PC.
"Deities are no more than mortals with supernatural powers, and thus are capable of making mistakes."
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign
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Gwenfloor
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I am sorry that I have not updated in a while. I have been playing a lot and did not have enough time to get back.
I also have a famous line in my recent session:
"What is an Invidian wedding without someone getting shot?"
~Darryl
I also have a famous line in my recent session:
"What is an Invidian wedding without someone getting shot?"
~Darryl
"Deities are no more than mortals with supernatural powers, and thus are capable of making mistakes."
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign
~Alper, Kobold Alchemist in my Ravenloft Campaign