Sweet Cinnamoth
EXP: 37,766, Level: 8
Level completed: 31%,
EXP required for next Level: 6,234
Crickets chirped at the fierce morning sun. A hay wagon came to a gentle rolling stop at the foot of a hill, under the looming shadow of a large house.
“This is the mansion you spoke of,†the driver said aloud, her Tradespeak honeyed and sweet.
A sharp-eared boy popped out of the hay, nodding at the young elfin woman at the fore of the cart. His verdant gaze, buggy and pupil-less, turned to the dark-furred direwolf snoozing in the sunlit cart besides him. Fearlessly, he poked the slumbering beastie in the side with a grin. She grumbled at him and rolled over -- right off the side of the cart and into the road. Not the most dignified way to disembark. Sneezing up clouds of dust, Daugi was now awake enough to blink the crust from her bloodshot eyes and give her tiny companion a disgruntled growl. Fenn merely laughed -- a soundless quivering of his chest -- and hopped off beside her. Though he felt a little sorry about the rude awakening, he felt it was justified by the fact that she had gotten the nap at all. It had been a good choice to let them hitch a ride rather than lope all the way over here.
“You do know, that no-one in their right mind would ask to be taken to such a place,†the puzzled cart driver called over to Fenn as he patted his grumpy wolf on the head. “Do you not? What business do you have here? It is a cursed grounds. The last person who cared for it did not do kind things to this place, and they paid a price for it.â€
Fenn shrugged amicably and glanced at the shamble of a house. If anything, her words of warning bolstered him. How many times had he found objects of fascination in the places no-one had the courage to go?
The little fae fished around in his satchel and handed her a fistful of tarnished coins for her trouble. She scrutinized them a moment, then tipped her hat at him and snapped her reins, prying questions quieted by the payment. The hefty elk hitched to her cart tossed their heads and started off. “You’re welcome then, mute one. Take care,†the driver said as she shrank into the distance. Fenn bobbed his head cheerfully and waved good-bye before turning to face his destination.
This was no simple haunted abode that he was visiting. This was the mansion of the deceased Darcy Clemonts, a human researcher of strange magics and faerie beings. That which had fascinated her were cryptids which most in their right minds didn't even want to touch; things which were not beholden not to humanoid will, nor the Thaynes, nor quite even the rules of nature. Sadly, one of her last works, an unfinished documentation of frost fae culture and physiology -- his elusive people -- was said to remain in this house. Fenn couldn't fathom as to why none had thought to take it from these creaking premises and get it published posthumously for her. It would have saved him quite a bit of research and trouble if someone had.
It was probably those “haunted house†rumors that kept people at bay. Fenn sighed and agreed that the abandoned grounds certainly looked a good place for unsatisfied spirits to roam. Oh well. At least he would bring back something new to add to the Tarot library. Wouldn't Vince be pleased?
The abandoned mansion was squat and squarish, the bristly lawn as high as Fenn’s thighs and the walls overgrown with ropey vines. Boy, he was glad he had arrived here during the day. He couldn't even imagine what it would look like at night! The boy eagerly started across the eroding stepping stones, making a game out of not-falling-into-the-deep-grass. Daugi padded after him like an attentive mother hen. She didn't seem to understand the game, so Fenn decided that he was the winner in the end. He landed on the porch with a light thump, rattling the decaying boards. A quick nudge from Daugi saved him from falling over.
The door was unlocked, its hinges loose and rattling. Opening it let out a front of humid air and old-lady smell. Fenn’s nose crinkled at it. There was a quiet dripping in the background. Together, the two peered into the gaping dark inside. Did someone leave the faucet on? Was the faucet actually still functional after a century? Such important questions.