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Old 07-09-2017, 09:32 AM   #71
134
Believe that.
 
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Join Date: Feb 2017
Location: The Roman Empire
Posts: 622
Quote:
Originally Posted by deoxys View Post
134: [Update Music]

The groundskeeper remained silent as he continued to stride back the way you came. His movement was extremely stiff, almost robotic or doll-like. He slowly climbed the stairs you had descended, one leg at a time. As he carefully hoisted himself up the hidden staircase, his posture did not change or sway even slightly. His entire demeanor felt incredibly off, almost inhuman.

You and Pouli followed him up the stairs as he effortlessly closed the trapdoor behind you, staring at you blankly as he did so. In an effort to make conversation, you took up his offer for first aid, but declined the drink. He turned away and proceeded down the open hallway on the other side of the room, not responding. As you and your Houndour continued to follow the groundskeeper, you decided to once again try engaging in conversation, mentioning the carvings on the door you had found. Immediately, without warning, Pouli’s Will-o-Wisp flickered and died, encasing the entire hallway where you stood in total darkness. Before you had time to react, however, the room dimly lit back up. The groundskeeper was standing face to face with you, once more with a blank expression, holding a candle in his grasp. He stepped backward and turned around, once again walking forward. “I always come down here prepared,” he said. “The breeze makes it difficult for flames to be kept alight.”

As you started to once again follow the groundskeeper down the hallway, you couldn’t help but immediately realize something was wrong.

Pouli was gone.


Panic.

Maybe it was the eerie atmosphere, or the not-quite-right groundskeeper, but the moment Tate realized Pouli was gone, utter panic set into the trainer. Chest tight, breathing ragged, eyes wide and world spinning, Tate looked around with a frantic desperation for the young hound, croaking out the Houndour's name.

"Pouli?! Pouli! Here girl! Here!"

Tate whistled for her, surprisingly adept, and clapped both hands on denim-clad thighs; all the things one might typically do to illicit the attention of an errant canine.

"Hey, my Houndour-... she's gone. She might have gotten spooked when the lights went out, we gotta go find her," Tate insisted of the gentleman, already turning back towards where they had come from. "She looks mean, but she's sweet as a kitten, I'm worried about her-"

Tate began walking, expecting the man to acquiesce; after all, helping to find a lost hound was the decent thing to do in the situation.

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