Play@YSDC

Phyllis grabs Eugene’s hand and presses it. “Maybe you should go last. Shall we light all our lamps?”

'A bit of flame wouldn't go amiss' says Anna. She lights one of her lamps. 'Eugene, are you sure you're up to this?'

"No. I'm nowhere near up to this," Eugene replies, keeping hold of Mrs. C's hand. "But I don't think I have much of a choice. We need to press on."

Story led the way down the stairs, which ended in an ordinary-looking basement. An unlit bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, with a slender chain that hung beside it. In one wall was an open wooden door.

“D-down there,” stammers Eugene, pointing down the steps. “A corridor leads to a large room. That’s where it’ll be.”

Anna stops as soon as she enters the room. 'Best go in all guns blazing' she says, emptying out her bag. She lights the other oil lamp and puts the glass bottles of lamp oil into her coat along with her electric torch and spare batteries. She lights some candles and places them around the room, pocketing the rest. Then she tries to turn on the electric bulb by the slender chain.

Phyllis lights both her lamps and gets a flask of spare oil handy.
“How will Mr Thomson know if he is receiving the influence?” She asks gently. “What might it do?”

The bare bulb lit up, and the room was flooded with light. There were no special features to the room, however, only the stairs back up and the door leading onward. A corridor was visible beyond it.

"The influence it exerts at a distance is subtle," said Story. "It's been trying to draw him here to its lair. It can only take him over if it makes physical contact. It would try to engulf its victim. It can also burn someone to ashes the same way. Of course, just looking at the thing is going to be problematic. The mere sight can be enough to give someone a heart attack."

“I’ve seen enough of it and I’m still standing,” Eugene replies, somewhat bitterly.

“Of course, that might be because it wants me alive...” he sighs, switching on his torch.

“Only one way to find out...”

He opens the door to the corridor and plunges on.

“Lawks!” Phyllis exclaims and rushes after Eugene with a lamp in one hand and her umbrella in the other.

Story followed, his own lit torch in his hand. On the other side of the door, the corridor beyond was very different. The walls, floor, and ceiling here looked like sandstone, and they were covered with Egyptian-themed murals, reliefs, and hieroglyphics. There were extinguished torches in brackets on the walls. There were two more doors here, one on the left in the middle of the hall, and another at the very end of it, in front of which lay a discarded folding chair, which Eugene recalled having thrown. All three doors were closed.

OOC, Everyone, please roll Listen.

Phyllis sets about lighting the wall torches, pausing to look at the strange designs; Definitely foreign she concludes. She is too busy to hear anything.

Listen, 25 roll:32

Anna helps Phyllis light the torches, running her fingers over the carvings she says 'I wonder what these say? Nothing good probably.'

OOC:   Fail Listen

Listen 45 pass,Rolled a 34 https://www.dholeshouse.org/Tools/DiceVerifier?RID=f81e6ed7-7810-4374-ad9c-6d637222daee

With nerves and senses stretched to breaking point, Eugene thinks he can hear something.

Story didn't hear anything.

Eugene Thomson, [b]Eugene[/b] could hear a faint flapping sound beyond the door at the end of the corridor.

“I can hear something behind the door,” whispers Eugene. “Something flapping about.”

“That will be it then I suppose.” Phyllis says solemnly. She turns to Story,
“What do we do then? Blind it with lights while you rush in and stab it with your special knife?”

"Not I," said Story. "I'm not very good with a knife, I'm afraid. There's also the curse of madness to consider. If one of you wants to use it, you can borrow it. I'll use my torch."

Eugene Thomson, [b]Eugene[/b] could actually sense the being beyond that door now, and somehow he knew that it could sense him too.

Eugene falters, clutching his torch to his chest and throwing strange shadows across his face.

“It’s in there, I can feel it. It knows we’re out here - it’s wait for us...”

He throws a sour glance at Story: for a man who seems to have all the answers, the mysterious traveller seems an awful coward.

“Give me the knife then,” he spits.

“Come on then, who’d have thought it; a vacuum salesman, a young woman and a sixty-er-three year old lady try to save the day.”
Phyllis leads the way to the door and prepares to open it.
“I’ll be right with you all the way, Mr Thomson.”
She opens the door.