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Post by ollieander on Sept 25, 2017 15:09:27 GMT -8
Everything blurred when the retired butler began to recognize the path they traveled. The trees, the bends, the smell of decaying foliage lasted through all the seasons and even up until now. Wesiks scrunched his nose at the smell once he stepped from the carriage, his sunken eyes raised to the highest point on the building where he spotted a lonely crow. Its head shifted from side to side as it memorized the new presences.
He tried to think nothing of the ominous sign, a stupid superstitious man he was. He brought his gaze back down, now fixated on gaudy ornament of the front door. Still, he made no strides toward entering the manor, and only waited while clutching the red fabric of his scarf.
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Post by Solface on Sept 29, 2017 15:59:43 GMT -8
Emmon's eyes wandered up and down the front of the manor that stood menacingly before them, a foreboding sight to say the least. He let his tongue click, pensively rubbing his chin.
"Well, there we are. Cozy lookin' place, innit?"
His voice was dripping thick with sarcasm, his mouth morphing into a cynical grin. Even now, Emmon was all too happy to seek refuge in his sense of humor; a small comfort, but nonetheless better than any alternative he could think of. Except cut and run, of course.
Looking back, he couldn't even tell what devilment had led him to agree to this madness, running head first into a death trap, if townsfolk were to be believed. It had been filthy lucre of course yet even so, Emmon felt as if only a momentary loss of any common sense he possessed had driven him to accept the terms of this quest. He was in doubt, in fear even, but that inner turmoil would only hinder him even further going forward. He needed to stay confident, keep a smile on his face, however forced it was. He couldn't turn back now, a journey back to the Hamlet only by himself could prove just as lethal as entering that abonimation of an estate. So there was only one real choice.
"Someone gotta head in first. Any volunteers?"
He let out a chuckle, turning his head towards the other two.
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Post by ollieander on Oct 27, 2017 18:21:08 GMT -8
The butler looked to each of the other men as they spoke and played hot potato with who should go first. Wesiks, still with no words, took it upon himself to clear a path through the dead leaves that littered the ground. Unlike strangers to the lands, the man carried himself to the ominous building as if he were returning from a long day of work.
He sauntered to the door, and each step filled him with anxiety; fear, nervousness to see what hell laid beyond the slab of wood and decoration. His feet halted him at the door and, before even touching the handle, he checked behind himself to see if his party was still present, and if someone changed their mind on going first.
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