#One set of talons has changed over time to be better suited to standing/grasping for long periods. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

succinct-assbutt · 6 years

Text

You Can Call Me Bruce (Part 6)

Pairing: Bruce x Reader

Picking up from where we left off:

“....He dips his head and slides his lips down to her jaw, to her neck until they’re peppering desperate, wet kisses along her collarbone. The young girl moans at the contact; her mind is fogging up like a car window on a misty evening. Fear clutches her heart in its icy talons and gives it a firm squeeze. This is wrong—God, this is all so wrong, that she’s certain of as much as she is that the sky is blue…

But Y/N doesn’t want it to stop...”

Previous Parts: I, II, III, IV, V

A/N: This update has been way overdue and I hope you guys can forgive me for dropping off the face of the earth with this story lol, enjoy (and sorry for the tacky gif it’s the best i could do this late into the night)

____________

Bruce’s head is just as heavy.

His lungs fight for air and his heart kicks and hammers in his chest as Y/N pushes him back onto the cushion of the bed. He immediately sinks into it, pulling her along with him, drowning in her, in the feeling of lithe arms snaking around his neck and supple skin and God, she feels even better than she looks…

When their mouths part momentarily, he takes his chance to look up at her, at half-lidded eyes hanging right above him, piercing his very own. There’s a newfound lust swimming in them. In the way her lips are puckered and pink, in the feeling of her hand trailing down his shirt to his stomach, want and want and want…

“Y/N,” He stutters, voice hoarse.

Her fingers trail lower, and she swallows, refusing to tear away her gaze. Bruce’s heart falters. His brain has gone to mush. Trying his best to keep his grasp on reality, his eyes follow her movements, languid fingers, gentle caresses here and there and isn’t it sweet.

But beside the pleasure lies a sense of torture. More and more and more, his body demands. Gluttonous and sinful. Vile. At this point he doesn’t care, he never will, because he’s waited too damn long to be abhorred for something—someone—this dazzling.

~*~*~*~

The sound of steady snoring is what wakes Y/N the next morning.

The gentle rise and fall of a chest against her back, the sensation of stubble grating against her neck. Warmth. All around, encapsulating as Bruce’s grip around her tightens. She hears him sigh contently, snuggle closer, and feels him relax back into slumber a second later. With the sun leaking into the room and the hum of birds outside, she concludes that it’s no later than dawn and, as carefully as possible, rolls over onto her side. She almost laughs when she’s met with the face of Bruce sleeping. With his mouth hanging agape and his hair tousled and disarrayed, he looks far different from corporate Bruce, stone-cold serious Bruce. It’s almost embarrassing to think, but until now, Y/N always found herself wondering what he would look like first thing in the morning; whether he carried the air of solemnity to bed or whether it was something he’d take off at night and put on the next day like a finely tailored suit. Now that they’ve spent the night together this question, among many, has now been answered…

Mind drifting to the previous night, she almost blushes. Images of them flash through her mind, candid, shameless. Sounds of skin on slapping against skin…breathy moans…him and her and them. Together.

Shutting her eyes, she feels her face flush,

“Y/N?” His voice startles her awake, eyes opening only to find him gazing at her. Tired, half-lidded. He’s only just waking up.

And as much as she won’t admit it, it’s almost comforting to know that her name is the first thing on his lips in the morning.

A small tug at her lips, and she smiles. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Bruce greets with a lazy grin; from lack of use his voice comes raspy and hoarse before he clears his throat and tries again. “You’re already up. That’s surprising.”

“Uni’s sort of molded me into a morning person, even if I wish it hadn’t.” She smiles and shrugs. He chuckles. Warm and resonant. It reverberates even beneath the sheets and she finds her own lips tugging into a smile. Bruce. Them. When Y/N looks at him now, something sings in her chest, something golden and brilliant because she’s seeing him, she’s finally seeing him and who he is and that notion in itself is far more intimate than the touches they shared right now.

The vulnerability of the situation hangs potent. Nude, splayed across mangled sheets and pieces of her outfit that he’d stripped away along with her apprehension. God, that’s the only thing that was holding her back. Reluctance. Fear. Surer than ever, she knows now that Bruce Wayne is no-one to fear…

But just as much…no-one to love.

Not for her.

~*~*~

At breakfast they try and play it cool; dancing around each other at respectable distances, keeping the conversation light and safe and away from topics they feel will draw them into discussing last night.

“We don’t need to talk about last night.” Y/N said as she got up to strap on her bra. Bruce was still idly lying in bed, watching her voluptuous body move, trying to tame his thoughts from growing too explicit.

“We don’t?”

“We shouldn’t. Not now at least. Look, I’m gonna go head back to my room. Meanwhile, maybe shower, get ready for breakfast?”

“So we’re just going to spend the day acting like it didn’t happen?” He asked. Standing by the door with her clothes in hand, he tried not to notice the flash of sadness in Y/N’s eyes.

“We’re going to spend as long as it takes.” She said.

And now here they are.

Breakfast. French toast and gooseberry jam and an awfully heavy cloud of silence that feels like it has stretched on too long. Bruce wants—needs, actually—to say something. In this case silence is far from golden, it is far from a remedy or treatment for their predicament and maybe he needs to be the first one to put that out there.

Sat at the kitchen isle, he sips gingerly on his morning coffee. Y/N dances around the kitchen as she prepares some bacon and eggs, whizzing left and right, the hot pan sizzling being the only sound present in the room. Bacon popping, eggs sweltering. It’s starting to smell burnt—and so Bruce, being as generous as he is, puts his cup down and stands.

“Here.” He moves to the stove and turns the heat down. The food silences. With a spatula, he flips the food over a couple of times as Y/N flips through the cabinets.

“You should probably pay more attention to not charring the food rather than spicing it. That can come later.”

“Yeah, except it can’t. Goddammit—where do you guys keep your oregano?!” Frazzled, she throws open the cabinet door, ducking down to take a look inside. Nothing more than plates and old cereal boxes. Groaning, she shakes her head.

“This is a mess. Do you know where the spices are?”

“Not at all.” He answers, pushing the bacon around in the pan. “Alfred’s always the one dealing with spicing the food. When I cook, it’s more on the bland and boring side.”

Y/N sighs and with a shake of her head climbs down from where she’s kneeling on the counter.

Straightening out, she brushes her hair back in place and watches Bruce. He salts the food, turns the fire up a little, decides maybe that’s a bit too much and then turns it down a notch. Her lips tug upwards, and she’s only broken from her reverie when he announces it’s time to dine.

Bruce sets the table out on the patio, out in the morning breeze where they can feel the prickle of the sun and the hum of the birds. A warm glow of light casts upon the rolling hills, dancing along the grass and houses and homes they hold. Y/N thanks him with a kind smile as he sets down her cup of chamomile tea.

“I’ve taken a break from coffee for a while.” She avoids his gaze as she lifts the cup to her lips. Bruce settles down across from her. His coffee steams and swirls, disappearing into the air. He was trusting, hoping that maybe the awkwardness wouldn’t follow them outside, but it’s going to take more than changing the location to work through that. Nodding, he meets Y/N’s eyes. Swears they almost look nervous (at least more than usual).

She puts down her cup, tucks her lips into her mouth.

“Good choice. Tea’s far healthier for you in the long run, anyway.”

“He says, sipping on an espresso darker than the night. You really are a rebel, aren’t you Bruce Wayne?”

“I’d like to think I am, Y/N Y/L/N.” His smirk surfaces with his cool, collected voice, eyes fixated on Y/N’s that dazzle with mischief. He can tell she’s holding back a grin. That she’s diluting into a mere smirk. They tease—oh, they tease—, and it always feels safe and customary…but after last night…

When Bruce catches himself thinking this, a lump forms in his throat. The image of Y/N giggling, live and vivid, sits before him, drawn against the morning sun, against creation, and by God he wants and wants and needs. Heavy hearted, watching her tell him about how she’s been a tea-lover from a tender age, it almost breaks him. Warps his thinking. His heart. Fuck. The words throttle out of him before he can so much as blink.

“We need to talk about last night.” He cuts her off, gulping thickly as he watches her eyes squint.

Her brow furrows and bewilderment flashes across her face briefly. Swallowing, Bruce steadies his breathing. He’s a big boy. Matters of women and the romantics should be elementary to a man of his caliber.

Only when he looks at Y/N, he finds himself growing more and more apprehensive.

Head tipped to the side, her eyes tear him down. She licks her lips. Inhales. A warm summer breeze washes over and reminds her that their outside, that they haven’t even yet touched their breakfast.

“I thought—“

“That we weren’t going to talk about it? Yeah, well…things change. We should talk. We should.”

“Or, we could just ignore it for now…?”

“Y/N, how am I supposed to ignore the fact that last night we slept together? Huh? How am I supposed to ignore the fact that I had you in my bed only a couple of minutes ago and now here we are chatting it up over bacon and eggs?

“Bruce, not now, okay? Can we just have breakfast…?”

“You can’t eat and talk at the same time?”

“It’s not polite. I was assuming my uncle taught you this,”

“You—”

Bruce reaches across the table, grabbing her hand. Y/N’s eyes flit to his. Across them something resembling anger flashes, something fierce and threatening. She clenches her jaw, but it’s not enough to intimidate him.

“—are being difficult.”

“And you are being obsessive.” She yanks her hand back brutally but his grip is vice-like. “Leave it be for now.”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t! I can’t look at you right now, right here in the open sun, looking how you look and not...have my mind flash back to last night….to the nights to come.”

“Nights to come?”

“It meant something to you, didn’t it? Last night?”

Y/N bites her lip. Grey eyes burn into hers and she swallows, ready to speak, when—

“So it happened.”

Startled, both heads whip in the direction of the door…

And Y/N feels a pit tear open in her gut.

She gasps. Bruce feels a warmth claw at his neck and for the first time, is deafeningly aware of his fingers around her wrist.

Swallowing, he slowly releases it. Standing in the door, Alfred keenly watches his movements, the retraction of his hand, the evident shock painted on his face in pale pink.

His voice is thin and acerbic. Drawn so tight it’s about to snap any second.

“Say it again.”

“What?” It’s not that he hasn’t heard him, but rather that Bruce doesn’t want to believe he has—that any of this is happening.

The elder man’s eyes move from his niece to her partner. They cut him, like fine knives that carve into his skin, like the pain of seeing an ancient friendship that has lasted all these years coming undone right before his eyes.

“Say it again, Bruce.” He repeats. “Say how much you want fuck my niece.”

“Alfred, it’s not like that—“

“Uncle Fred, please, I—“

“Looks like you’ve made your decision…” He says, and his eyes, swimming with hurt and poignancy, shift back onto Y/N. “Both of you. You don’t need an old geezer like me anymore.”

“Nobody said that!” Y/N shoots up onto her feet, scrambling to pacify the situation but it’s too late. She watches his back as he heads back into the house, disappearing from view.

Standing, Bruce tries to place a hand in her shoulder, but she’s fast from his touch, jerking away so quickly it shocks him. She whips around to face him and it’s only then he notices the water in her eyes.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Y/N, look, I never meant for him to find out like this,”

“I never meant for him to find out at all, Bruce! That was the plan! You just had to come along and get in the way, didn’t you?”

“You and I both know this is far from what I wanted.”

“So what is it that you wanted, Mister Wayne? Huh? Tell me.” She’s yelling at this point, full on shouting to the point that she’s red in the face and breathless and cherubic features are overtaken by tears and anguish.

And it comes so easy for Bruce.

“You.” He says.

Simply. Quietly. A silence settles over them then

And Y/N stares back at him. Wet-faced, hurt, more angry than sad, before shaking her head and heading back inside.

Bruce watches her. Aches. The breakfast remains untouched; his coffee cools, and for a moment he forgets what brought them out here into the sun in the first place.

~*~*~

Y/N finds her Uncle sequestered in a dim-lit corner ten minutes later.

Her eyes watch him like flood-lights, like pools of hope slowly dwindling, like this is what breaks them apart because it is, and she’s here to try and fix things. Swallowing, she lets a breath out through her nose. Blinks. She tries to find her voice that has hidden out of shame.

“I thought I’d find you here.” She says.

Alfred doesn’t move.

The air tenses. Hollow winds from outside find their way in through the vents and hug her. Taunt. Her steady beating heart nearly falters when she takes a step closer, but then he speaks, halting her.

“Stop.” He says—commands—in a voice gruffer than usual.

Y/N obeys as her torches of eyes follow the slight movement in his neck (she swears she can see a vein popping). This isn’t supposed to be easy, because the entire situation isn’t easy, but she’s an optimist, ambitious and hopefully and she clings to the glimmer of redemption that comes with her Uncle.

Uncle Fred, her last living relative. Her friend. Always has been. This shouldn’t be what tears them apart.

“I…” She tries to speak.

“You…?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t mock.” Y/N sighs and shuts her eyes. “I’m trying.”

Alfred scoffs. The sound of glass craping against a metal tray makes her realize he’s drinking.

“Not at all. If you were trying, and I mean really trying, we wouldn’t be here. This conversation wouldn’t be an option.”

“Well, it is, so we might as well get through with it.”

“You’re my niece. “

His voice is tight and thin and it sends a wave of quiet over the room. She swallows.

“I held you when you were a baby, when you learnt to ride a bike, when you bruised your knuckles from punching that boy in your class for pulling your pigtails…? I’ve always been there for you….But I guess all along you secretly didn’t need me, huh?”

“That’s not true.”

“My bags are packed.” He says, takes a sip of brandy. “Packed them last night. Somehow I knew this would be the outcome….that you and Bruce…”

“Me and Bruce don’t want you to leave.”

“Your actions say otherwise.”

“Just listen to me, will you? You’ve done all the talking so far. Now—now it’s my turn.” The damn breaks and she snaps.

She folds her lips into a thin line as she watches her Uncle’s back, waiting, expecting and grateful when he places his empty glass down and stands.

Turning to face her, Alfred clenches his jaw, runs a hand through the silver sprouting from his head. Her chest stutters and shallow breaths slip from her nostrils. They seem too loud in the otherwise silent room as she tries to garner her courage.

All the words, all the feelings—suppressed like water straining to break through the dam. Frozen. Searching for them in the pits of her being, Y/N curses her cowardice that has driven them into hiding in the first place; they have no problem announcing their presence when she’s alone but immediately faced with conflict, they scurry back into the shadows.

“Well…?” Alfred’s brows rise, urging her on. “I’m listening. Talk, child. Talk all you want, now is your chance.

With a steadying breath, she struggles with the few words she can find. Breathe. Speak.

“Uncle Fred,” She begins. “Please don’t leave. Please, Bruce and I, we want you to stay, we really do…I….”

The words catch in her throat. She breathes in, out, rolls them at the tip of her tongue and they burn. Gulping, Y/N damns herself for leading them here in the first place.

“Look, it’s my fault we’re in this mess in the first place. I…I shouldn’t have come here. Shouldn’t have stayed and let things escalate with Bruce, I…And you, you have every right to be upset, to be livid. But please….don’t take my stupidity as an urging for you to go. I’m going to go and pack my bags now. I’ll be gone by tomorrow morning.”

“Y/N…”

“Y/N…?”

When she hears his voice, she immediately whips around.

Bruce’s expression is made out in the darkness by the contours in his cheeks, the dip between his eyebrows—she knows him. Even in the dark, even in blindness, he’s something that will never go unnoticed.

Sadness swimming in his eyes, he looks to Y/N and then to Alfred. He grits his teeth. She hopes he won’t object. No matter the pain, the decision is final.

She’s leaving.

Forever.

“Bruce,…”She pivots to face him and tries to smile. Small and sad. Like her. Like them—in a moment like this they can’t help but feel so small, so defeated by the world they once thought their love could conquer. That’s the thing with love: it makes you feel invincible.

And the drawback when you realize you aren’t is more painful than any bullet to the heart.

Wordlessly he allows her hand to tenderly caress his face, the stubble grating her small palm and she’s grateful when he doesn’t speak or object.

“I’m going to miss you. Really, really bad, but….” She pauses, a hitch in her voice. “…But this has to be done. I don’t want to be what breaks apart your friendship. I don’t want what we had or could have to be a reminder that I hurt my Uncle, that I hurt you by making you chose. I’m sorry.” She finishes with a sniffle, burdened and cathartic, then glances over her shoulder.

“Both of you.”

“Y/N…”

“It was nice meeting you, Mister Wayne.”

He watches her, the world around him slowing to a stop. Time melts into a single blur—this moment, this fraction of second where he hears her denounce him and it’s almost impossible for things to start up again.

Bruce feels a coiling in his chest. He wants to say something. To reach out. Y/N turns and speaks to her uncle, says something he doesn’t bother to decipher and when his very own eyes meet those of his friend, he only just notices the glassy film over them.

She’s leaving.

And it hurts them both. The tension. The mess of the past few days that have driven them to this point. When Bruce tries to breathe his lungs collapse and all he can do is go through the motions of watching Alfred wordlessly leading her up to pack, offering to drive. This is it. The tumble of the towers, of his empire—from this day on, Wayne Manor will never be the same. It will be haunted. Diluted and reduce to a shell of the legacy Bruce Wayne built with Alfred, through Alfred.

It was always him, wasn’t it?

All along. Through years of coping with grief and nurturing it into strength; through the strongest blows to his resolve…The deaths…Always there for Bruce, always the pillar in his plans… Once—but not anymore.

From here on will always live the ghost of this day, these people—of former best friends and almost-lovers, walking the halls, trying to make sense of what happened (and what didn’t...)

________

Thank you for reading! as always, follows, likes/reblogs and/or feedback make my day.

Truthfully, I may not be online for a while, but I already have most of the final installment written out and will be posting very soon, so keep an eye out.

TAGS:

@livingoffsavvyillusions, @herangelicvirtue, @neontiger007, @sammythelittlemoose, @doubtinglord, @tori525, @hotcrazycatlady, @carolina-brumblr-love, @brooklynbridge96, @thewigglyjo, @disneymarveldcunivere15, @laughingcherries, @bookgirl617, @sarcasmisthyname, @incendia8, @maximofftrash, @wonderfulmagnificentrose, @loveyourmockingbird, @raptornsain, @unlikelyinternetprincess, @infinite-bubbles, @andreasteed1894, and @oathbreaker-paladin

143 notes · View notes

monkandmaster-blog · 6 years

Text

Horizon Manor, Morrow

The party followed Yum-Yum too Horizon Manor where they saw a sign over head that read ‘Welcome to Morrow’. In the initial discussions Grulaag seemed uncharacteristically cautious and Velly was suspicious. Bobby decided to scout down the right hand side of the house sneaking through the vegetable patch. Bobby peered in windows and got small glimpses of the unoccupied rooms inside. He turned back and informed the others who all followed him looking for a way in. The party walked around the back of the house and came across a cemetery for lost pets. Stepping on the sacred ground the animals began to come to life. Velly used his thieves tools to open a window and entered into a room with three flesh golems. A pet horses lunges for them but its leg breaks and it collapses on the ground in boney, fleshy pile. Ren and Grulaag also enter the room after Velly and lift Bobby inside. Bobby then leads the way through a corridor and asks Velly to open the door for him, as he still holds a distrust for door handles. Bobby enters into the greenhouse of exotic plants and is bitten by one.Velly and Ren athletically bound through avoiding getting hit. Grulaag remains ready with his weapon and shifts past as the plants snap out and miss.

The party then steps out into a trophy room full of glass cabinets with stuffed animals inside and a large snake that hangs from the double height room. There are a set of stairs that lead up to a viewing balcony..Grulaag grabs the smallest one with a bird inside and puts it in his pocket. He then hears a thudding coming from inside; the bird his headbutting the glass trying to get out. Bobby uses his net to cover the glass and Grulaag smashes it with his maul. Bobby shakes off some of the feathers and glass and puts his net back in his bag. Velly leaves and peeks into the taxidermy room where it appears the animals are prepared. He closes the door and leaves it well alone. Ren looks into a cupboard and is buried under a pile of rubbish. A severed hand runs down the pile and lands on Rens chest. It jumps up and down and seems to look around. Grulaag puts his hand out and lets the hand attempt to communicate. Ren gets himself out of the rubbish and the party try to interpret the hands gestures. After a short time the hand gets frustrated and hides back inside the rubbish. Ren then opens a door to the toilet which is overflowing and full of flies; He closes the door and throws up.

They then realise that they missed a door opposite the taxidermy room and move back up to investigate. They peer into a living room with a woodburner and homely furniture. As they walk through the ,seemingly normal room, the furniture begins to move and jump from place to place. A chair blocks Rens way to a door so he uses shocking grasp to immobilize it. Grulaag tries to grab a bookcase but it is too strong and it jumps free. Velly enters down some stairs into a ‘V’ shaped room. He walks along the narrow beam at the bottom of the room, at the other end Ren enters. Ren sees a large shelving unit with many toy dolls on. He contemplates using storm sphere to blow the dolls away but he worries that they will all attack him and he just leaves back the way he came and Velly does the same.

The party dodge their way through the moving furniture and back out into the hallway. They enter the door at the far end and see three pools of water flush with the ground. There are plaques next to each reading ‘10%’, ‘35%’ and ‘55%’. Velly steps forward and throws a copper piece into the 55% pool, it lands at the bottom and is now the shinies coin they have ever seen. Grulaag then dips his dagger in and finds that it comes out sharper and shiner, like it was brand new. Velly then dips a sword in andis pleases with the results. Bobby uses the 35% and is less impressed so dips it in the better one as they start to leave. Ren then follows suit and dips a weapon into the middle pool and leaves through the curved glass corridor and into a pitch black room. Ren borrows a torch and lights it, hoping to use the fire if anything should attack them. They see a row of cubicles that look like the changing rooms for the bathroom. They hear a faint sound that seems to jump around the room. Velly begins kicking in all the doors and finds a shadow creature known as a Vrock that strikes out at him. The party gather around the cubical and begin attacking. Ren finds fighting in confined spaces very difficult. Bobby goes to the cubicle next to it and attaches his net across to climb up and see over. He attempts to shoot down at the Vrock but misses as he tries to get his balance. The Vrock poisons Grulaag and Velly and Stuns Ren and Velly. Eventually the party manage to defeat it with a shot to the head. Grulaag takes some of the talons and Velly takes some of the poison spores.

They then enter the shower room, a large wet room with buttons on the walls. They run though, touch nothing, and find themselves back out in the hallway. They look into the room opposite which has three rows of three statue warriors lined up on the floor. On the wall at each end is a shield with weapons mounted on them. Grulaag asks Velly to go invisible and get him the battle axes. Velly agree this is a good idea this time and sneaks in and pulls at one of the battle axes. The axe pulls forward and opens a secret door. Velly explored inside and finds two lockers that contain blood packets. He takes some and and feels a small part of his life drain away as a mist of blood appears over his hands. He drops the blood packets, mutters under is breath at Grulaag and asks Bobby to help cure his affliction. Grulaag then sneaks in and tries to shake the shield that holds the weapons up, he tries harder and harder but does not manage to move it but does make enough noise to disturb the warriors. The first line stamp the ground and ready their weapons. Grulaag exits the rooms and Bobby uses his thieves tools to lock the door behind him.

The party then find themselves at the main entrance where they find letter addressed to Nebuman Collingsworth. There are paintings of the same man over time with the same top hat and cape on that now hang on the coat stand by the door. Ren debates putting on the hat and cape but is too scared and leaves them where they are. Velly and Grulaag look at a painting with a women on and feels themselves being pulled in and manage to stop themselves.

Velly then goes to open another door on the opposite side and finds a pantry full of mice. Ren looks into the paint room and as he enters is hit by a brush as it flies across the room. He looks around and sees no one else in the room with him. He leaves and closes the door behind him. Grulaag and Bobby look into another room that is full of food laid out on a long table. The food looks fresh and Grulaag’s pet mouse Philonius sniffs out and looks longingly. Grulaag resists the urge to feed him sensing something is probably wrong with it. Velly went through the pantry as he noticed a door on the far side that lead him into the dark, damp kitchen. A Goblin baby is overweight and wedged into a high chair, blood and puss is running down its legs as it cuts into the flesh. It is screaming and banging its fists on the table. Velly tries to take some of the food off the table with his mage hand but the food becomes viscous and maggots appear on it as its runs down the mage hand. Velly reacts as if it were in his own hand and drops the food on the ground, kicks the crying baby over and leaves. Ren does not like the idea of the creature suffering so takes his dagger and plunges it slowly into the neck of the baby, the screaming stops. The party stand around confused not sure where to go next.

They head back to the trophy room and use the stairs up to the viewing gallery and find the floor above. They follow the landing around and find a piano in the ballroom at the far end. Bobby, being the bard, sits down and plays the two pieces of music that have been left on top of the piano. After playing the music Bobby walks away from the piano and finds that he cannot speak or hear anything. When he returns to the piano the effects disappear, he has to resort to magic to remove this curse. The party then decide to check the library and the adjacent bedrooms. They find a chain in the library that makes a mechanical sound and turns a light on in one of the bedrooms. They take a bedroom each and pull the corresponding chains, eventually leading to the sound of a door opening somewhere in the house.

They have a quick look up the stairs, but just find a room full of wine bottles that begin to squeak open and send the cork flying around the room. They head back down stairs to the ground floor. They hear a small voice say “hello” and begin to worry that the dolls have come to life. They enter the living room and find Casia barefoot. She tells them that Lennon Banester took her for a walk and she was hit in the head and woke up here in a room that was filling with water. Grulaag picks her up and the party begin to leave and head back to Tregath. The party hear a door open and people enter the house. They run through the trophy room hitting the cases of animals as they pass. Ren and Velly try to see who the people are so they peek through the windows. They see Lennon Banester with three dark cloaked figures. They take Casia back to Tregath and are met by Rolen, Gandorf and Brandy. They are told to go back and face Lennon and the men before they have time to plan or act first.

They meet Lennon on the trail outside of Morrow. They attack and kill the three men and injure Lennon badly. Lennon looks up and says ‘I am Alius’ before he falls on his own sword. Bobby casts speak with the dead and they have five questions to ask. Lennon tells them that he didn't want Casia to be Queen.

The party head back to Tregath where Gandorf tells them they should head North and try to find Alius and stop this once and for all. They are warned that it will be very difficult and dangerous. They will be given a boat from Martell but it will only be big enough to carry them and some supplies.

0 notes