The Curse of Ortemier Manor: The Boat House

As of 5/11/98

Last Turn

"Let's take a look in the cabin before moving on," Kale said as he stepped across the deck of the Sorrow's Foe and toward a dirty, warped wooden door. Drawing Silverblade once again, the young fighter gripped the door's handle. Kale took in a deep breath before quickly lifting the handle and pulling open the door, his enchanted blade held out before him. A faint smile slipped across his lips when Kale realized that, at least this time, he wasn't going to be surprised by anything undead.

"What . . . what do you see?" Yaran asked from his position behind Byric, the cleric-ranger himself poised behind Kale.

"Not much of anything," Kale replied as he stepped into the small cabin. A single wooden table stood against the wall to the right of the door, with a three-legged chair leaning against it. A torn and molded straw bed was to the left, as well as a few tattered blankets. Kale spent a few more moments checking in the corners and under the furniture before returning to his companions. "Nothing worth the effort," he told them.

"Down below, then?" Byric asked, motioning toward the short flight of steps leading to the belly of the small ship.

"Yes, but let me take the lead," Kale said, holding Silverblade out before him as he had before. "In the event that we run into another undead creature, I should get a bit of a warning from my sword."

"No arguement from me," Yaran said, maintaining his position behind Byric. Slowly, the three young adventurers made their way down the flight of steps and into the lower deck of the Sorrow's Foe.

"Anything?" Byric asked Kale in a whisper. The young fighter shook his head once as he quickly took in the lower deck. Several cracked barrels lined the inner hull of the ship, as well as a few thick-roped nets and a handful of broken stools. Three hammocks hung motionless to the trio's right, while a large pile of leather hides, broken shields, and dried seaweed sat to their left.

"This place stinks," Yaran grunted, pinching his nose with two fingers. "Call me a prophet, but I'll bet my extraordinary talents that there's nothing of value down here."

Byric glanced from Yaran to Kale, a slight grin creeping across his face; a grin that slipped away just as fast as it appeared when the cleric-ranger noticed the expression on Kale's face.

"Danger," Kale said through clenched teeth as the magical vibrations coming from Silverblade sent a tingled-wave up his arm.

"Where?" asked Byric, his head turning quickly from the left to the right, and back again. Before Kale had time to answer, the pile of leather and seaweed shifted and rolled to the right, revealing two fully armed and armored skeletal warriors. Both undead creatures were clad in rusted scale mail armor, and both held a long sword in one hand and a small wooden shield in the other. With the quarters being too cramped, Byric decided against his bow and quickly drew Telsen's Returning Blade.

"Vile creatures!" Yaran shouted as he let loose two shuriken at the pair of skeletons. Despite the cramped quarters and Yaran's off-balanced stance, both throwing stars hit their mark, the first taking a large chunk of bone out of the arm of the skeletal warrior on the right, while the second star took the arm off all together. The undead creature's arm fell to the floor of the lower deck, along with the rusted long sword it was weilding. "Thank me later!" Yaran exclaimed as the undead creatures advanced.

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