The air grew still, "Did you just--" Brice inquired. "Yes. Let's get ready, Vosslyn don’t forget" Bellerick grunted as the last ghostly strands of Rosevalda’s spirit drifted into him. Drega nodded to Vosslyn and they exited through a portal to check in on the Guild and requisition backup whilst they were conducting business on behalf of the retinue. A short while later after the pair had disappeared, a whistling noise issued from the arcane whorl and a set of basic supplies came flying in followed by a lithe figure armored in glossy leather and well oiled blades. “Evening gents, cavalry’s here. Name’s Wynnefred” she piped. “Two.” Wynnefred raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. Gus sniffed heavily and wiped his eyes, “Two, there was sposed to be two o’ ye.” “Ah yes, the wild woman decided to apprise the local pub instead whilst Lady Vosslyn was otherwise engaged” Wynnefred sniffed daintily. “No matter, work to be done. Let’s put boot to stone” Brice barked as he turned towards the farthest wall. Bellerick stooped to gather the children’s remains as the group headed toward the trap door indicated by the dollhouse.

The winding weave of carved earth and cobbled stone steps seemed to stretch endlessly but finally gave way to a pitch black corridor yawning out into blackness. A faint but distinct echo of chanting could be heard in the distaince. Brice felt a visceral shudder run through his spine from the sound of it. Grinding to a halt as one at the precipice, Wynnefred glanced back at the cleric. “Ever heard of The Flashlight?” she remarked quizzically. “Do I know the flashlight she says” he grumpily mimicked back at her. “Luxae Rator” he intoned, and a soft but bright light enveloped the rogue’s signet ring which she quickly covered up. She and Brice both began scouting ahead, mapping out the basic features of the floor with clever unsheathing of the ring long enough to see what was ahead but not long enough to alert any possible threats. Brice keyed out his low whistle indicating the all clear and the group relaxed slightly. Torches were broken out as they surveyed the surroundings.

Gus raised a meaty thumb to one nostril and expelled his recent mucous payload. “It’s fuckin’ right shoddy in here, eh, what’s this?” while a single tear rolled down his cheek. “Oi cleric, tomb markers here. Reckon these here belong to the parents.” he grumbled. Bellerick swung his lit sword around to face the opposite room. “Aye, markers here too. Looks like what I’ve been looking for.” Kneeling in quiet contemplation for a moment Bellerick reached inward for Rose’s attention.

“Shall this be your final resting place then, child?” he queried of her. A vague but firm sense of certainty tinged with anxiety and relief alike. Eyes opened with renewed purpose, Bellerick straightened and began arranging the remains between the coffins marked for Rosevalda and Thornbald with Wynnefred and Gus’ assistance. When all was set Bellerick closed his eyes and quickly intoned a prayer of sending to Kelemvor. The effect was immediate, and Bellerick felt a surge of holy power as the warmth of Rose’s released spirit left the material plane.

A shrill caterwauling soon interrupted his thoughts however as Gus erupted in a temper tantrum of tears. “WHERE IS MY SISTER, WHY AM I STILL HERE WHYYY?” he screamed incessantly. Wincing, Wynnefred attempted to calm him to no avail. Bellerick quickly exited the room but with a troubled expression unsure why the sending had failed. He joined Brice in his investigation of the dining area adjacent to the tombs.

Brice rolled his eyes as he half turned to Bellerick, “Can someone shut that godsdamned cogswoggle up? May as well light a beacon for whatever lurks--” All of a sudden a horrid slurping sound erupted from the larder as a vaguely vulture like creature laden with squelching tentacles lurched forward at his unguarded side.

“Ware, Brice!” Bellerick was quick to react and jumped atop the dining table directing his blade in the beast’s direction. “Safris Faerna” he intoned and a blast of holy light erupted from the sword tip and glanced the monster in its neck causing it to flinch. “A thousand fucked pigs in the morning bath!” shouted Brice as he took the opportunity to retreat, dodging a flailing tentacle and loosing an arrow from across the room. The others heard the commotion and quickly joined the fray. Gus continued making angry sobs of fury as he wiped the smashed beast’s ichor off his halberd’s blade. Bellerick barely cleared the dining table as Gus’ temper got the better of him and he proceeded to reduce it to kindling. “Well, as I was saying--” Bellerick started but was quickly cut off. “We don’t have time for this man, we simply don’t have TIME!” Brice briskly walked off towards the eastern corridor beckoning for the rest to follow. The rest shrugged and walked after him, uncertain of his impetus but with no better alternative to suggest.
Brice took one step into the criss crossed corridors and instantly knew something was amiss. The faint putrid odor became stronger and more familiar by the passing millisecond and before he could take another step he found himself besieged at the intersection of hallways by moaning wights as far as he could see in either direction. Self preservation kicked in and he instinctively lashed out at the closest one inflicting some minor damage before sidestepping into the safety of the southern corridor. Not far behind, Bellerick recognized his plight and swiftly charged into the intersection to intervene. “Fortina Calastre!” he roared as he plunged his blade deep into the flooring. A bright red circle formed around him as the wights began to try and pummel the living flesh before them into edible pieces. While the abominations slammed and scratched at the consecrated field separating them from the cleric, the team members assembled in the western and southern corridor and began mowing down the wights with a hail of projectiles and vicious polearm strikes. When there was only a single wight left standing, Bellerick let loose a cry to Kelemvor and clove it in twain with a single stroke from his blade. “Fine fine, all well and good but there simply is no time let’s move!” Brice barked out once more as he moved north into a room appearing to have been the site of a ritual. Skeletons replete with manacles lined the perimeter of the room all facing a statue of a man holding a smokey orb with a dog sitting beside him. “This is… interesting” Wynnefred breathed as she stepped up to the statuette. “I feel uneasy poking about here without Vosslyn’s knowledge to guide us” murmured Bellerifck. Wynnefred could not resist the urge, she pulled the orb free from the cradled hand of the statue and immediately felt the wrongness in it. Six ectoplasmic spectres materialized within the chamber and with a howl set upon the party. Bellerick attempted to bark out commands but was grasped by one such spirit and let loose a howl of pain as it sapped his strength. Delirious with pain, it was all he could do to call upon the sacred flame of Kelemvor. As if swatted with a giant stick, the nearest spirit to him exploded in a blast of goo across the floor. Meanwhile the team took up defensive positions as they attempted to inflict damage on the semi-corporeal beings. As another spirit latched onto his leg, Bellerick felt desperation surging within him as the strength continued to leave his body. Heaving the flask of holy water from his belt felt as momentous a task as hoisting 3 greatblades but somehow he managed to douse his blade and throw it across to Brice. Brice was engaged in a show of acrobatics dodging as many attacks as possible but still managed to catch the flask and take the cue. Dumping the contents onto his twin blades, Brice cut across and began to strike with vigor now that his attacks were having more effect. Seeing Brice’s plight somewhat relieved, Bellerick turned his attention towards Wynnefred and Gus’ opponents, making short work of them together with the additional help of a few more holy blasts. Ragged and torn Bellerick sank to his knees as he offered prayers of healing for the more critical of the group. “Brice, this pace is unsustainable we cannot continue to charge--” Bellerick tried to reason. “Do you hear that chanting? We MUST press forward!” Brice grasped hold of the eastern door.

It grasped back.

And to Brice’s horror, the frame seemed to heave and rows of gnarled jagged teeth sprung from hidden crevices as the entire door appeared to lurch forward.

“Ah. Fuck.”