Chapter 12: Imtarumbar

"Well, I think we should explore the room with the pool that Ranciryon mentioned," Fred maintained. "I think there is potential judging by his description of the place.
At first, no one said anything. Tirion was busy examining his wound.

Though it had not fully healed, it had scabbed over nicely and looked like it wouldn't fester. Much of his perceived injury had probably been due more to shock and some blood loss than to a serious wound or trauma.

Taurvantar was the first to reply to Fred's suggestion.
"Well, Fred, there are many places in this strange house that I would definitely like to explore. My own heart leads me back to the entrance foyer. I would like to see if this house still intends on keeping us prisoner. Also, after that, I feel that the library and schoolroom should be our first goals for this new day. We must find out more about our foes and what limitations there must be on their power. We have already speculated about their greater weakness during the day. What are their other weaknesses that we can exploit? We cannot overcome this place by force. The example of the previous party has shown that. If we are to succeed, we must do so by the power of our wits and wile, not our skill of arms."
Ranciryon seemed to balk at Taurvantar's supposed slight on armscraft as a means to success in the House. Scowling, he was next to voice his opinion.
"I agree with Fred. I think we should explore this place further, starting with my previous oversight at the pool. I think the pool is the place most likely to bring us answers. I've been thinking"
"Is that wise for a warrior?" Fred chided. But seeing Ranciryon's stern gaze, was quick to add, "Just a jest, my friend. Just a jest - to impart some mirth into our sad affairs."
"Anyway," Ranciryon continued, shaking his head as the others in the party laughed at Fred's quip, "I think that perhaps it was not Almarion who led me to that pool, but rather Ellenya, who somehow mastered the power of this place to put me there, stopping me from doing a rash thing in pulling the knife from the portrait. Didn't she appear above the pool, gesturing to me with a cutting motion across her wrist? I say that is where she died - or was killed - and that is where our answers lay. Also, I am curious about the passage that led down so many steps from that place, where the strange great door was that was barred and sealed with all manner of chains and runes. It was more as if something was being kept out."
"Anything that Koranthur and Almarion feared despite all their power," Daern joined in, "I do not think I would want to meet. Let us not venture to open that door without more knowledge of what it contained. This place has many dark secrets. Some would do to be best left buried."
Ordain rose and nodded to the others. "First of all, let me thank Fred for his generosity with his food. I know we are all pressed for rations and that there is no promise of securing more soon, but I think that we few strangers who have gathered here, now bound to fight a darkness from a time now dead, - that we have formed something of meaning. We follow others who have fallen, like Englorion Fairfound, but who in their struggle have given us succor and strength nonetheless that we are separated by years and never knew each other."
"Excuse me," Tirion raised his hand, "But good Ordain, do you have a point to make?"
Ordain pursed his lips, but for a while said nothing. Turning his back to Tirion, he continued. "In any case, I think we should search out the schoolroom. I, for one, am curious to learn how Ellenya died and therefore, second Taurvantar's suggestion." Ordain sat down.
"Oh boy, but there is much confusion here," Kal voiced in his particular peculiar dialect of Westron. "Oh mom! I wish I were home in bed in a warm place!"
Tirion got up as Ordain sat down. "I believe that we should make a thorough exploration of this place. For that reason, I will join my voice to Taurvantar's and Ordain's, provided that we take pains to explore all rooms as we progress. I do not wish to leave potential clues - and enemies - undiscovered in our rear. And, like my friend Ranciryon, though I dislike plodding, I think such a course would be best to bring the most heartfelt blows to the evil minions and masters of this dark House."
Fred struck his flint and soon held onto a burning torch, though daylight streamed through the windows. He, it seemed, was ready to depart. As neither Eoras nor Daern voiced a preference, Taurvantar began by leading the way in through the doors he had explored earlier, to give heed to Tirion's insistence that they explore everything.
Opening the door near opposite to Englorion's body, the party entered an immense room, full in keeping with the size of the place. It measured at least 13 mannish paces by 35 such and was filled with trophies of dead animal skins and heads, all preserved through time to give evidence of the hunting prowess of the lords of the manor. One set in particular held the fascination of Ranciryon. Prominent on the southern wall, was displayed the flayed skin of some large reptilian creature that measured the full height of the wall and then some and ran at least twenty paces long. Long jagged bony things that were supposedly teeth or claws were displayed that measured a full foot in length. Running his hands along the coarse texture of the skin, Ranciryon was heard to whisper a dark word in his native tongue. Ordain translated it for the rest of the party - "Dragon."
Fred in particular was fascinated by Ranciryon's guess that the skin was that of a Dragon. Dragon's were mythical creatures, mostly dead and gone from Endor, except it was said for some of their lesser spawn who lived in far off wastelands to the north. Fred too ran his hand over the skin, seeming to imagine great deeds of old where dragons roamed the earth and when men and elves were once giants.
Though the room held a desk and several hides of both familiar and exotic beasts, there seemed to be not much else evident to the naked eye. The room had two other exits, a set of double doors to the north and a single door set into the western wall. Both, it turned out, led into the huge feasting hall.
Leaving the trophy room, Taurvantar led the party to the entrance foyer. Tirion relieved Kal of his duties with the Tarma child and placed a few drops of goblin potion into the babies protesting mouth. Tarma wailed his protest, which grated many of the party. But all took satisfaction that the noxious mixture at least seemed to be keeping the babe alive. As for the goblin himself, Pric was kicked along by Eoras, who seemed to take great delight in tormenting the goblin, taking out much of his frustration on the self confessed eater of human children.
In the entrance foyer, Taurvantar once again tried the door. It remained unopenable. Whatever Almarion's limitations were in daylight, they seemed formidable enough to keep the party trapped. Setting off through the western doorway of the entrance room, above which door Fred had found his stone gargoyle, the party entered the other great hallway which had been seen from the deck on the other side. It was from peeking into this hallway that Fred had seen an undead visage of himself glare back at him, while Taurvantar had once witnessed a dancing light winding its way through the hall. Several more portraits graced this hall, which seemed to lack the martial quality of display of the southern great hall that had lead to the kitchen and servants areas. But the portraits were all covered with cobwebs and dirt, and when revealed, seemed to be landscapes and clever studies of light and mastery of form. No one doubted that they were worth much gold, but as they were bulky and cumbersome, no one seemed interested as yet in taking them along as treasure.
They had gone some one score paces into the hall when, elves first, they perceived a distant rumbling as if of thunder, except that the noise seemed to come from somewhere below their feet. Keen eyed Daern spotted it first. Like a wave, the floor at the farther end of the hallway buckled and rolled toward them, the walls and glass windows on the sides bending insanely as if made of fabric. They tried to run, but the rolling floor quickly overtook them and, aside from Kal - who jumped high at the very moment the floor overtook him, the party was tossed into the air, all landing very hard on the carpeted wood of the floor. (All take 6 concussion hits) Looking up from their prone positions, no one could could see any cracking or damage to the building to suggest that would they had witnessed was real. But the bruises and aches they all felt reminded that it had been real enough. Of all the party, Taurvantar was the only one who did not get up.

"Taurvantar!" Fred yelled, running to the prone, Peredhil. Taurvantar was bleeding from his nose and scalp and had seemed to have taken a particularly nasty toss. Tirion, putting his head to Taurvantar's chest, called out that Taurvantar's heart was unsteady and seemed to be skipping beats. Without consulting the others, Ordain took the remixed potion that had been found on Englorion and at once spilled it into the opened mouth of Taurvantar.

Taurvantar's body relaxed in Eoras' arms, as if dead, but then, as his eyes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, Taurvantar leapt up and gazed with wonder at those around him. Not only did he seem healed from his fall, but he seemed even better and stronger than when they had first seen him. His skin and eyes seemed to glow with brilliance that the darkness of the House could not diminish.

(Taurvantar heals all lost hits. Also, gains 1 permanent base concussion hit point permanently.)

Ordain looked with awe at his unstoppered potion, which was only half drained. Treating it with ginger care, he restoppered the vial and put it away.
"Are you all right?" Fred asked.
Taurvantar, who was gazing at his hands as if he had only just perceived them for the first time in his life, could only nod silently. Suddenly, he laughed.
"Come my friends. Let us not delay our course. There is nothing in this house that we need fear. I know that we have the measure of this place and more. I would pity that ass of a ghost Koranthur if he should cross my tracks now."
"Hmm," Fred mused. "Interesting potion. It heals you, rejuvenates you, and makes you stupid all at the same time."
Taurvantar smiled down at the hobbit. "Ah, my dear saviour Fred, do not fear. I have merely reawakened to the potential of my own strengths. The shadow of this place does not frighten me any more."

Fred just smiled and nodded and when Taurvantar's back was turned, twirled his finger around his temple, suggesting to the others that Taurvantar was not himself.

Still, as he charged off, the others were forced to follow Taurvantar. Trying the many doors set into the western side of the hall wall that led outside onto the porch, the party found that all were locked and would not open, even when tended to by Fred's ministrations. On the other side, Taurvantar opened the first set of doors that did not lead to the feasting hall. This set of double doors was the fourth in line and when opened, revealed a more modest dining room, modest only in the proportions of the place. It was of only fifty by well over a hundred feet in measurement. The western side of this room was the entrance that the party had entered through and was situated on one of the short sides of the room. Two other sets of double doors could be seen in the northern wall. Passing into the room, the party noted that at either end, forming an arch on that side of the room, a staircase ascended from two ends to meet at the apex and lead obviously to the second floor. A great table dominated the room and the moment the party entered, the need for Fred's torch at once disappeared as candles and sconces all about flared into life, revealing a dinner party in progress. Amber light played its way over painted faces of noblemen and ladies engaged in ernest conversation and mirthful play in words. There were over forty "guests" seated at the table, while half as many servants attended to their every need and to all of them it seemed very real, as if they had somehow gone back in time to when the house was a place for the living. From below the arch of the far stairway, musicians played reeds and stringed instruments, lending gaiety to the air and at once dispelled any sense of gloom. The rich aromas of roasted fowl and succulent pork, basted beef and baked fish coupled with the rare scent of warm meads and cups of spiced wine assaulted the noses and stomachs of the characters, long fed on meagre fare or denied altogether. Pric strained at his leash, despite Eoras' harsh ministrations and of all the party members, Fred was the most affected.
As they entered, one of the servants stepped forward.
"Ah, my lords, you have been expected and your seats have been waiting for you." More servants at once appeared and handed each of the party a golden goblet, heavy in its gem encrusted wealth and loaded to the brim with mulled wine. Woodenly, the party members accepted the glasses, gazing at them dumbfounded while the richness of the liquid seduced them to at least breath in heartily, enjoying the warmth of the liquid's steam on their frozen faces.
The servant who had greeted them motioned them forward and they could see that there were indeed empty spaces around the table.
Keen eyed Daern cried out, "I can read my name on a plaque on top of one of the plates. This place not only expects me, but knows my name!"
"What is the meaning of this?" Eoras growled to the servant. "How do you come to know our names?"
"The Master and Mistress of this house have expected you," the servant answered, bowing smartly. "They have guest gifts to give you as well as kind words. But, knowing your hunger, they have assembled this feast in your honour."
As if by cue, the guests at the table sounded loudly in unison with a "HURRAH!" as they greeted the party, their hands raised in a toast.
Eoras, partly to test the waters, sipped his wine. "It's real," he announced. Then, before he knew it, he had taken another gulp, letting its warmth slide down his throat. The crowd at the table applauded and called out for the party to join them. More servants entered from the northern doorways, carrying baked breads, pies and puddings.
"OH, let's do join them," Fred pleaded. "I haven't eaten well in days. It looks so good, and it couldn't hurt to at least humour them."
"Please Fred," Tirion warned. "Consider where we are. Do you really trust this place?"
"Well, the wine was real enough," Eoras pointed out. "I don't see why we would have reason to believe the food would be otherwise." So saying, he released the goblin Pric, who at once rushed to a place at the table. A Numenorean merchant, clad in rich robes, slapped the goblin on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. Pric at once began to stuff meat and simmering savory puddings into his mouth, seeming to suffer no ill effects.
Ranciryon turned to the others. "Well, my fellows, what now?"


x.p. award: Eoras - 10, Fred - 705 x.p. Ordain - 755 x.p., Taurvantar - 768 x.p, Tirion - 605 x.p., none


Fred accepted the goblet and took a deep breath appearing to enjoy the rich, arromatic fragrance. "Now _this_ is what I call a proper meal" he said as he started to walk toward the table. Still holding his torch in one hand and his untouched wine in the other, he reached the table and got up on his tip-toes to peer at the huge mounds of food on the table. He was about to toss the torch away when he seemed to change his mind. He seemed to be struggling with himself. He brought the torch back up, and started to back away from the table, muttering to himself "this isn't right, I know it..." his voice appeared to be straining as he continued "this house and its masters have been after me from the start..." Again he appeared to change his mind "but how could a full stomach hurt, maybe we have just misjudged their intentions..." he appeared to be trying to convince himself when he said "and after all, Englorion said that he never saw any manifestations of the Evil during the day, and that knife must have weakened Almarion." As he said this he had been unconsciously walking toward his seat. As he neared it he seemed to change his mind again in mid-step, and triped, spilling his wine, and "accidentally" hitting one of the "guests" with his torch.

At once, the illusion vanished. The dinner guests were still there though, but their dry withered bodies had many centuries before ceased any movement, and with eyeless sockets and thin dried lips, they gawked at each other across the table. Fred, his torch smoking the bony skinned relic that had once been a rich Numenorean, pulled back with disgust. Looking upon the table, all could see that the food, though real, was hardly the rich fare they had first thought it to be. Rather, it seemed to be made of roughly hewn flesh, still bloody from the violent death that it had been given. Most of it was goblin, but there were a few white limbs that could only have been human, perhaps some traveller, like themselves, lured from the road to Annuminas. Pric, surprised at the transformation, soon went back to his meal, knawing on a goblin leg with relish.
Eoras smelled his goblet, and threw it on the floor with disgust. It's red stain brought colour to the dusty carpet on the floor. The others, seeing what their goblets contained, threw them away also, not desiring to drink the warm blood that had been offered them.
The servants though, when revealed turned out to be neither illusion, nor tormented undead. The orcs, their role now made apparent mostly fled, but at least half a score remained behind, picking up knives and cleavers and advancing upon the party. Chief among these was the one who had appeared to them as the chief steward. He carried his own weapon, an iron forged blade that bore the stamp of Angmar. Drawing this, he addressed the party,
"It was better you eat of the Lady's gifts! Now we eat of you!"

Fred feels strongly that either this whole "party" is an illusion, or that it is made up of people captured over the years. He hopes that the torch will either destroy the illusion, "wake" the guest that he touches with the torch, or flame the undead who masquerade as guests.
Depending on the success of the torch, he will torch the tablecloth in the hopes of completely destroying the illusion, or at least keeping the others from succumbing to it. Having had ample proof of the house's dislike for him, he uses all of his willpower to fight the temptation to partake in the feast. If he sees Almarion around he will probably try to torch her too.

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