The Basement of Doom: Difference between revisions
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I looked at Them. I pondered Them. I wondered why They kept showing up even after I left that house. Were They still wanting to be my protectors or was there a much sinister reason?
"What do you...?
===Ch. 2—An Explanation===
After enduring this "
The shaman turned out to be an old raven, and like many of his kind who inhabited the Faerie Territories, he was highly intelligent as well as versed in the magical arts. He listened silently as I briefly described the dream that kept pestering me. His sharp, piercing gaze made me a tad uncomfortable, as if he was looking right into my soul.
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Finally he cleared his throat and spoke in a grating voice.
"You’ve been to the Lum House?
I shuffled my feet, feeling a bit uncomfortable to answer. I had left out that part of my story partly out of fear and embarrassment.
"Yes, I did,
"You’re not the first to have trouble,
"It hates humans?
"Yes, especially the ones from the Mortal Territories,
"Yes, I know,
"It has changed hands a lot,
That I knew already- about the first owner, at least. Perhaps I should start from the very beginning so you have a clue as to what exactly going on.
The house that I just mentioned was located in the northeast of Waldachia near the picturesque city of Harnam. I used the term "
Yes, you heard me right—plague pits... in the Faerie Territories. To be more specific, resulting from the plague bacillus Yersinia pestis, also known as "The Black Death" or the "Bubonic Plague.
And get this, it even jumped to humanoid species. Even though the Faire Folk cities didn’t have such poor hygiene and sanitation as the rest of medieval Europe, they still were vulnerable due to a lack of immunity to human diseases (most likely due to living in small populations and a decline of protective magic).
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===Ch. 4—Past History===
The owner turned out to be a melancholy man in his early 50s with an unsightly birthmark. He was also co-owner of the inn—The Stork’s Rest-where we were meeting. The man, whose name was Mr. Weiss, explained how he shared ownership and caretaker duties with two other brothers. None of them ever stayed at the property; "too dark and woody for their
The Lum House, as it was called, was approximately six miles out of town, and it was a very scenic drive. As we turned onto Kjer Road I noticed the area around us was rich with Neolithic and Celto-Liguria relics. Funny how there wasn’t any traffic. I would have expected to see coaches and omni-buses stopped along this curvy road with tourists milling about, snapping pictures. We seemed to be the only people around for miles. Occasionally, I would see signs of civilization—gravel or dirt pathways leading off into shadowy tunnels of trees. I strained to catch a glimpse of the picturesque farm buildings through them. As we came around a bend, the road abruptly gave way to a large clearing surrounded by tangled, wind-twisted trees. I soon noticed a long, gravel drive between the remains of a brick and granite wall, and then I noticed the house.
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===Ch. 5—A Warning===
Eventually, we got to the subject of rent, and Mr. Weiss told me that he would offer a very low price in exchange of any repair jobs I did. He mentioned that the fix-it work was becoming more difficult for him to do what with his inn-keeping business, plus his brothers were now too busy with married life to deal with "yearly improvements.
I was both relieved and excited at the rent being only $120 a month that I wasn’t at all suspicious when I signed the lease for a year. Sure, the rental had a dodgy past due to it being a secret tryst place for a wealthy human socialite and a gangster witch’s son. But all that happened a long time ago, and the mansion where the woman supposedly met her doom had been completely destroyed. So why should any supernatural stuff happen to me? Back on Saffrasia, I once lived in the former capital of Calpurnia, where nearly all the population was wiped out by the Scarlet Plague, and I never once had a clairvoyant experience. Of course, I was much too busy with day-to-day survival to pay any attention to psychic matters.
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The atmosphere near the basement was once again dead still and heavy with that weird perfume smell. The longer I stood in front of that book, the more I started smelling an underlying current of death and decay. Not only that, it seemed like there was a crowd of people staring right back. Even though there was nobody in the room, I sensed them crowding around the door, thrusting their faces into mine.
At that point, I should have just gotten out of the house and spent the whole day in town, only coming back for my stuff with a whole bunch of ghost breakers. Instead, I just stood there like a dolt, setting my teeth and clenching my fists until I drew blood. All the while, a soft whispery voice in my head kept saying insistently, "You must use the key and open the door.
Now friends, I know what you’re all thinking. DON’T EVER GO INTO A CREEPY BASEMENT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! DON’T YOU REMEMBER ONE OF THE BASIC RULES IN SCARY MOVIES? NEVER, EVER GO INTO THE BASEMENT OF A HAUNTED HOUSE, ESPECIALLY AFTER THE LANDLORD WARNED YOU ABOUT IT!
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For a moment I hesitated. To go down into that strange place seemed rather idiotic; to search through that murky room for some sinister secret seemed really horrible. In fact, the very idea filled me with cold dread, and I almost decided to turn back. Then a sudden rush of rash courage came over me, and even though shivering and sweating with fear, I marched steadily down the stairs and clambered into that shadowy room.
Unlike the previous section, which was long and narrow, this one was large and wide with a high arched ceiling and long narrow windows (heavily grimed with dust and cobwebs). It was also filled to the brim with old dusty books and other objects, all of them neatly labeled but organized in no recognized manner. I wondered if all of this were the "piles of
Puzzled, I watched the late afternoon sun filter weakly from above. ''Why would such a small house have such a ridiculously large basement?'' I thought.
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"Rather pointless if you ask me,
Even though I’d been down in the subbasement just a couple hours, I was already feeling knackered. This corridor alone was big enough to keep a team of explorers occupied for days. There were many smaller rooms dotting around the corridor, often separated by rusty iron gates and great doors with huge, wheel-like handles—the sort you find on bank safes and compartment doors of a ship. Some of these led to wine cellars or empty pantries, while others led on to further passageways. I kept on the main route. The last thing I wanted was to become disoriented and lost in one of those branching chambers.
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Voices again—now I could hear them quite clearly. It sounded to me like more than two people. What were they talking about that was taking so bloody long? The tension was overwhelming. Why don’t they just get it over with and leave so I could be on my way? Still I listened to the whispery conversation.
"He’s at it again,
"It’s the Summer Solstice,
A dry, sandpapery voice rasped, "He nearly got out ten years earlier, because He had fed on those five tenants.
"They were foolish,
"It’s the curse,
"Has the house even been blessed?
"Oh, countless times,
"Did they even bring in an elfin shaman to bless the entire property?
"Only once, and he said a blessing wouldn’t help. He said this Rose Prince’s not any mere ghost or shadow demon to be deterred by simple exorcisms. He’s a Lich God, one of the monstrous Death-Walkers that the Witch Moll raised up from the Depths to devour any human intruders to this property.
"Can’t the curse be reversed?
"It can’t. Not even the High Ones can violate the terms of the Witch Moll’s curse. The spell was forged in anger and revenge, and once it had been set loose, it could neither be reversed nor moderated. Only contained,
"What about the girl upstairs—this Kes Allyntahl?
My heart leapt into my throat. Oh, great! They know about me.
"I heard she’s an orphan,
"No!
"Volunteers?
"Imbecile!
Meanwhile, I crouched down in my hiding place, praying that these people would just go away. They didn’t. The speakers continued on their weird conference. All I knew was that there was some otherworldly evil bloke locked up somewhere and this group of possible maniacs was acting as prison guards. And they knew I lived upstairs and what my name was, although they were quite wrong about me being an orphan, because both my parents were alive and well and living in Oise on the coast.
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I walked along the Dark Wall for a span, trailing my hand along it for a moment. Then I withdrew it, the long flawless fingers instantly vanishing to be replaced by the familiar scars and blemishes. Then I turned my attention to the Gray Wall. The moment I fixed my gaze upon it, the mirror immediately brightened to silver and images of rolling white clouds began to form.
As I watched these turbulent visions, the room gradually filled with silvery haze and then began to slowly spin. I grew dizzy. It was as if the silver was seeping out of the mirror and dissolving the walls. Just before I lost consciousness altogether, I thought I heard that silky-sounding voice of that Jean-Louie (the bloke who presumably suffered an "
"See? What I tell you!
===Ch. 15—His Nibs===
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Yowling, I reeled back from the window, flailing my arm wildly, frantically trying to break the grip of that thing coming out of the pitch-black glass. Finally I broke free and, stumbling back, watched in crawling dread as still more misty appendages joined the first. Eventually, all these limbs merged into a shape—first a sphere, then a cloud, then an immense pillar. Finally I saw rising out of its churning, undulating depths a pale oval face framed by thick springy curls. In a moment the mist cleared and a figure in Baroque fashion of the late 17th century stood before me. I could only stare in numb shock as the big-wigged, beribboned dandy then gave me a dimpled smile.
"Wut?
Suddenly my nose twitched to a familiar and flowery scent—roses. Well, at least he wasn’t completely drenched in the stuff like those unwashed romantics back in Waldachia’s Classical Age. My heart then plummeted to the pit of my stomach when I finally guessed who was standing right before me.
"Crud... Crud... Crud...
"Bonjour, mademoiselle,
Had I been a giddy school girl, I might have giggled and blushed profusely. Instead I just fixed him in a blank gaze and said, "I am Miss Felidae Katz (no way in hell was I giving my real name). It’s such a great honor and pleasure, sir, to meet a man of your great stature.
"Ah, beautiful name,
"Harnam, sir,
Prince Francis looked shocked. "Harnam! Mon Dieu! City of Dregs and degenerates, that’s what it is! Non, non, dancing with peasants and carnival freaks is simply unacceptable! A lovely lady such as yourself should be attending a magnificent ball instead.
I gave him a puzzled look. "There’s a ball down here?
"But of course,
I hesitated. It would, I thought, be rather rude to turn down a royal invitation to a ball. It might even be suicidal to refuse the honor of accompanying a god to a ball, especially when this particular deity was of the death-dealing, soul devouring variety. Eventually, common sense prevailed and my mind quickly came up with a plausible excuse for not attending.
"I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to refuse your offer... You see, I’m expected in Harnam—a really important meeting... so I really can’t be late.
Prince Francis’s yellow eyes widened in surprise then narrowed in suspicion. "And just who are you expecting on meeting during this particular rendezvous, mademoiselle?
"Uhh...ahhh...
"You wouldn’t happen to have a boyfriend, would you?
For one horrified instant I thought, ''He knows I’m lying! I’m going to get my soul sucked out through my nose!''
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And then:
"Well, those guys.
===Ch. 16—The Way Back, Or a Word of Warning===
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Locked in a tight, fleshy grip, I could only watch in bug-eyed astonishment as I was dragged down the passage towards the patiently waiting trio. No sooner was I released from the massive coils, I was then pulled aside by the spiky-haired fella.
"Look.
Puzzled, I studied the Rose Prince as he wrathfully drew his gilded sword and challenged the costumed and dyed-haired trio to a duel. I focused hard. Then like paper charring, Prince Francis’s face suddenly changed, revealing a gray, withered horror, blotched with dust and mold and eroded with decay. Only the eyes were alive, gleaming with hatred and malice from deep sockets. The golden hair was suddenly not hair at all, but a writhing, weed-like mass. Now I knew why this guy was called a lich god.
Out of the corner of my eye the one I dubbed "
After passing through what seemed like miles of unfamiliar passageways, we finally arrived to the basement opening, the stairs leading upward with my cat still perched on the upper step. She looked at us in a mixture of curiosity and extreme annoyance.
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I turned to look at my rescuer. Even though I couldn’t read his expression under his peculiar avian garb, I could sense he was smiling.
"This room,
Thanking him and his comrades, I then offered him tea and crumpets, but he declined. Instead he placed in my hand a folded piece of parchment which he insisted that I read right away. Curiously, I read what was scrawled in bright red ink:
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Oh crud!
"Mademoiselle Felidae.
Steps drew near. I tried to move, but couldn’t. My limbs were frozen stiff, still wrapped in the heavy web of sleep.
"Ma chère fille.
The footsteps halted. Instead of cold air, I felt on my cheek a breeze that smelled of rose blossoms. Then a sibilant whisper sounded in my ear, "Je t'aime.
Panicked, I shot up in bed and flailed around for the lamp chain.
"Sod this!
I spent the rest of the night packing and left around the crack of dawn. I never went back even after I heard the house burned down.
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