[X] Ask Issachar what it is he believes. Well... you don't actually know and you're curious. He seems to open up the most when you ask about him only semi-solicited or less, and it's got less chance of backfiring than trying to one-up him
[X] Impress Issachar by saying you know the story behind the three-headed dragon in the emblem you're assembling. Super secret dragon lore, no mortals allowed. You just uh, hope your memory is actually correct here.
I like Eldingar getting to feel smart and proud. Is he making any real progress on these puzzles? I just am 75% asleep and can't understand a few things till I am more awake latter.
[X] Ask Issachar what it is he believes. Well... you don't actually know and you're curious. He seems to open up the most when you ask about him only semi-solicited or less, and it's got less chance of backfiring than trying to one-up him.
I like how Issachar is being nice to the big blue dragon who needs hugs, The BBDWNH.
[x] Ask Issachar what it is he believes. Well... you don't actually know and you're curious. He seems to open up the most when you ask about him only semi-solicited or less, and it's got less chance of backfiring than trying to one-up him.
I'd like to get on with things, and this is the nicest option avaliable.
Also, still hoping for funny lich-skull waifu.
The chances of this being the story of a reluctant dragon teaming up with a clayman and his boyfriend, saving the world and falling in love with a shield are slim, but they technically aren't zero just yet!
[X] Impress Issachar by saying you know the story behind the three-headed dragon in the emblem you're assembling. Super secret dragon lore, no mortals allowed. You just uh, hope your memory is actually correct here.
Super secret dragon lore... It calls me. I also hope Eldingar remembers the story properly, it'd be good for him to have chance to show off a little more.
Though asking after Issachar's own faith is also a good call.
It refers to Zerban's first Quest Fate/Hollow Fake. A good Quest that I recommend and may have picked up a few delusions from reading. Thankfully Eldingar only has a single head so I don't have to be afraid of any shield husbandos appearing...
Also, fair warning: The two prime husbando canidates where either ignored by the thread or already snatched up by a dismayed God-King, so it got a waifu instead.
I can also recommend the sequal, Fate/Hollow Order, or really any of Zerban's quests, they're pretty much all good.
[X] Ask Issachar what it is he believes. Well... you don't actually know and you're curious. He seems to open up the most when you ask about him only semi-solicited or less, and it's got less chance of backfiring than trying to one-up him.
"Aren't I lucky to have such a puzzle expert on my side!"
You preen with a wide, smug grin. "Damn right you're lucky to have a bona fide expert on your side. Okay now you've got two switches on this side of the gate coming up so I think you have to throw them in order so both gates actually stay down, try-"
It goes on in that sort of fashion for a while, you fluttering from perch to perch like a giant scaly songbird of thunder and death to advise Issachar as to the effects of his actions on the maze as a whole while he patiently follows your instructions. He even manages to figure out 'my left or your left' without being told once! He truly is the greatest partner a puzzler could have.
I honestly just love the little touch here. Eldingar 100% could have flown to the center of the maze at any point but didn't take the emblem until he had got Issachar there fair and mostly square. And they only bailed out to avoid backtracking. Honestly Eldingar does seem like the type who would enjoy games and puzzles, there's been a bunch of references throughout the quest to proper adventurer etiquette which...honestly seems like it might mostly be a natural-born dragon/introvert dragon thing. Since the other dragon we've seen (Paxton, one who scaled up admittedly) didn't seem to give a single greasy shit about stuff like that. Whereas the big blue dumbass has thought a bunch about how cool and challenging he'd want the entrance to be for an adventuring party.
"This one had some unspecified 'disease of the blood', somehow I think that's closer to the right track than bar bills." Whap goes your tail as you swat an encroaching zombie away. You make a mental note of the sigil on the man's tombstone, 'drawing' it on your palm with a talon to help you remember.
Also yeah, a vampire's not so much foreshadowed as forecasted but I'm expecting some kind of twist honestly. Especially in light of like...okay so. Tiamat seems to be the main regional diety, at least among the Arosa. They're the saltwater spring, Abzu is her pair, her male complement, and is a freshwater spring but the Abzu we know, besides being adorable, is quite possibly made out of tainted deathwater pooled and collected deep below the earth. And this family seems connected to it too.
Hrm.
[X] Impress Issachar by saying you know the story behind the three-headed dragon in the emblem you're assembling. Super secret dragon lore, no mortals allowed. You just uh, hope your memory is actually correct here.
The three-headed dragon story is probably gonna be plot relevant and, hey, it's a good way to introduce ourselves to the LI here in an update or two. If we know the legend about their family crest that's the ice broken right there.
I honestly just love the little touch here. Eldingar 100% could have flown to the center of the maze at any point but didn't take the emblem until he had got Issachar there fair and mostly square. And they only bailed out to avoid backtracking. Honestly Eldingar does seem like the type who would enjoy games and puzzles, there's been a bunch of references throughout the quest to proper adventurer etiquette which...honestly seems like it might mostly be a natural-born dragon/introvert dragon thing. Since the other dragon we've seen (Paxton, one who scaled up admittedly) didn't seem to give a single greasy shit about stuff like that. Whereas the big blue dumbass has thought a bunch about how cool and challenging he'd want the entrance to be for an adventuring party.
Tfw you do that too for puzzle games.
Also yeah, a vampire's not so much foreshadowed as forecasted but I'm expecting some kind of twist honestly. Especially in light of like...okay so. Tiamat seems to be the main regional diety, at least among the Arosa. They're the saltwater spring, Abzu is her pair, her male complement, and is a freshwater spring but the Abzu we know, besides being adorable, is quite possibly made out of tainted deathwater pooled and collected deep below the earth. And this family seems connected to it too.
Hrm.
[X] Impress Issachar by saying you know the story behind the three-headed dragon in the emblem you're assembling. Super secret dragon lore, no mortals allowed. You just uh, hope your memory is actually correct here.
The three-headed dragon story is probably gonna be plot relevant and, hey, it's a good way to introduce ourselves to the LI here in an update or two. If we know the legend about their family crest that's the ice broken right there.
I've honestly considered that Eldingar is Tiamat's reincarnation (if only to cement 'Ancient monster reborn as young adult whose life is a *mess*' as Zerban's secondary kink. )
I mean it'd explain why Big E attracts people like flies beyond 'is the protagonist' so *hand wringing motion*
I've honestly considered that Eldingar is Tiamat's reincarnation (if only to cement 'Ancient monster reborn as young adult whose life is a *mess*' as Zerban's secondary kink. )
I mean it'd explain why Big E attracts people like flies beyond 'is the protagonist' so *hand wringing motion*
[X] Ask Issachar what it is he believes. Well... you don't actually know and you're curious. He seems to open up the most when you ask about him only semi-solicited or less, and it's got less chance of backfiring than trying to one-up him.
Lore on the world's religions, from someone who might have a rare viewpoint. We could follow up by asking if he serves any particular diety as well.
Don't forget the nbae's! Poor Abzu will feel left out, and only history's greatest monster would do a thing like that!
[X] Impress Issachar by saying you know the story behind the three-headed dragon in the emblem you're assembling. Super secret dragon lore, no mortals allowed. You just uh, hope your memory is actually correct here.
I'm torn between this and asking Issachar what he believes, to be honest, but Tenfold makes a good point about the metaplot assembling in the background, and it occurs to me that Eldingar is feeling pretty happy about himself right now, so capitalising on that by letting him show off a little might be a good move in itself. We gotta look out for our big blue dumbass.
Well... it hasn't steered you wrong so far. "What is it that you believe in, then?" you ask, taking the dragon-head pieces to handle the slotting process.
He seems surprised you bothered to ask. Pleasantly so, in a genuine way you can't really bring yourself to be angry at. He leans against the doorframe with folded arms, putting himself in your field of view.
"I grew up in the Sultanate," he says. "Not Utu's holy city itself but one of the neighbouring settlements - nice place, had its own library. I apprenticed there and I remember the owner, he was a priest too. One day I asked him how he had time to take care of all the books and adhere to his faith, but he told me they were one and the same thing."
"Your gods want you to read books?" you ask.
He chuckles. "You know that's not really inaccurate," he says. "Or, not them specifically, I'm sure they'd be very much pleased to be the eternal centre of mankind's attention, but in general. I mentioned before that the Sultanate is polytheistic 'for now', and that's because the wars halted - temporarily, I pray - a shift in thinking. Somewhat similar to the Arosa respecting gods without revering them utterly, but beyond even that. They have found their god but we are still looking for ours."
You pause, the second head slotting in with a click, and look at him. "How can you be 'looking' for a god?" you ask. "Either they're around smiting people or they aren't."
"Yes, well, you understand why this reform has been a bit slow-going," he says. You're not entirely sure whether he's agreeing with you that it's a hard sell or teasing you for being resistant. Maybe both. "If I wanted to be a little inaccurate yet pithy about it, I'd say that the thing people like me venerate is knowledge. Learning about the world we live in just one little piece at a time. Setting our sights higher than gods to the hows, the whys, to an even greater power and intelligence than them should one exist. Opening yourself to understand more, making your world just that little bit bigger, is the most admirable thing a person can do."
"(S'all well and good for you,)" you grumble softly, rattling the third head around in its slot as you try to find the right seating. "(I can't even figure out when I'm the town laughingstock.)"
"What," says Issachar, "you think trying to understand people doesn't count?"
Click. The three-headed dragon emblem is complete, turning a full revolution in its housing to an even deeper click of the double doors unlocking. You immediately race inside to focus on something very relevant to your interests and skillset instead of uncharted territory with a high likelihood of making you look like a buffoon. Thankfully Issachar seems to take the hint, following you into the grand entrance hall as the doors automatically swing shut behind you and the chandelier above slowly springs to life of its own accord, lamp by guttering gaslamp.
It's exactly what you expected from the outside, all lush carpeting and wood panelling and marble flooring, a sumptuously-carved oak staircase rising from the centre of the hall and splitting off in a T-junction at the first landing, the house crest reproduced in gold engraving on the otherwise blank wall at the split. You glance down at the floor beneath your feet and see the design yet again, golden linework that might just be real gold surrounding a subtle divot in the stonework. You experimentally tap at the edges with one toe-talon.
"Secret door behind the crest," you say instantly "We find what goes in here-" you tap the divot again "-and that-" you point at the wall at the top of the first flight of stairs "-goes up or down to reveal the path."
"You really do know your stuff," Issachar says.
"No need to act surprised about it every single time!" you grumble. "I spent a lot of time in my youth designing fantasy lairs, every wyrmling does it! I'm not on trial here!"
He nods, glancing at the doors either side that lead to the east and west wings. "Split into two?" he suggests. "One puzzle in the west wing for half, one in the east for half."
"Eyyyyy now you're catching on!" you say, mood immediately lifting. "Let's try the west wing first, we went right first when we showed up outside and sometimes these things try to punish you if you do the same obvious thing too much."
He gestures for you to lead the way and you do so gladly, throwing the doors open and striding down the long hallway beyond like you own the place. Thunder rumbles in the darkness outside, the gloomy corridor briefly lit by flashes of brilliant white light from the lightning strikes outside. Wonderfully atmospheric, even if it does the exact opposite of unsettle you for obvious reasons you can't rightly dock it points for that. The two of you make sure to try every door along the way - all locked, probably to save on wasted exploring time with only a certain puzzle-budget. It's when you make it to the main dining hall that you hit puzzle paydirt.
It's as opulent as anything else on the grounds, the long table seemingly carved from the trunk of a single mighty tree, no latitude for mistakes and yet the finished product is flawlessly detailed. There's room for fourteen people, each place neatly set with not a fork or a napkin out of place, and yet only one plate is actually full. The one at the head of the table, right in front of the ever-burning fireplace, succulent roast meat and golden-brown potatoes dusted with spiced salt crystals, vegetables swimming in a sauce that makes your mouth water from a single whiff. The plate seems to have been made only moments before the two of you entered, still steaming, the crystal glass of wine beside it smelling as if it were only just poured from a fresh cask.
"Eating that seems like a bad idea," Issachar comments.
"I wasn't going to!" you exclaim defensively. The thought had most definitely crossed your mind. Instead you focus on the surroundings to save face, checking for puzzle-hints. You find one almost immediately, a landscape-style oil painting of the dinner table as it should be, jam-packed with members of the Douglas house sitting down for a meal together. Of course they all look miserable and put-upon but that's accurate to both family paintings and real life so it passes by you with scarcely a notice. What you do notice is the brass plaque on the bottom of the frame, giving the names of each member of the family according to their place in clockwise order, along with the inscription 'A Feast For Those Who Remain'. The patriarch himself, the serious-faced and dark-eyed Éamon, is seated at the far left of the painting, the firelight playing across his broad shoulders.
"Alright, looks like we just have to... clean up the table so he's the only place set?" you suggest, taking one porcelain plate off the table as you speak. Almost immediately it leaps out of your hand, not so much flying back to its plate as reversing through time itself, just like the window. You twiddle your talons. "Okay not that."
"In the order that they died?" Issachar suggests. "We did have to read all those tombstones just to get in, maybe we were supposed to make note of the dates of death too?"
"Mmmnnnnnrrghhhh I hate the ones where you have to backtrack," you whine. "Puzzle hints and items should always be in or around the puzzle area in question or naturally attained while you explore! This is just sloppy right here."
Issachar pats you comfortingly on the shoulder. It has the exact opposite effect but at least this time you only tense up. "Tell you what, let's just brute-force it. There's only so many combinations it can want with thirteen places and it instantly lets us know when we pick a wrong one. It'll go quick if it's both of us doing it."
"That's... not a bad idea actually, let's get to it."
It's the kind of job that's slowest to start but rapidly picks up speed. Seemingly only the plates themselves count as 'places' at the table, which is a mercy, and have to be all stored safely in the nearby cabinet to complete the puzzle. Picking up a wrong plate immediately teleports all plates back to their proper order even if they've been placed in the cabinet, so you quickly learn not to bother. Past a certain point you've got the first six or so down like clockwork, blazing through combinations in a sort of peacefully intense silence. At last you're slotting the thirteenth dish away inside the glass dinnerware cabinet with a shared 'eyyyyy' of triumph.
You turn to find a ghostly image of Éamon at the dinner table, his translucent form almost completely obscured by a haze of ever-shifting white mist. He sits in silence at the head of the table, staring at each empty place in turn, before looking down at the rich feast before him as if it were as appealing as a plate of ashes. He pushes his chair out and stands up from the table, wrapping phantom fingers around the wineglass as he rises. He rounds his chair and goes to the fireplace, hunched against the stone, arm raised over his head. Staring into the flames as if they will offer him some answer, some solace. If it does, he's dissatisfied - he hurls the contents of his glass into the flames and vanishes, the empty glass shattering on the floor a moment later. The wine goes up in a flash of heat and the fire along with it, burning itself out in one last fireball. There in the ashes lies half of the nonspecific crest you need for the next stage.
"Well," you say. "That was a bit of a downer."
You immediately shoot Issachar a look. He meets your gaze. "What?"
"You know 'what'," you say. "You were just about to launch into some lesson about how all the wealth in the world can't substitute for company and companionship."
"And yet by bringing it up first you've only proven that I don't need to teach that particular lesson," he replies with a playful glint in his eye.
"Mmrrrrgghhhh you," you grumble. "Let's go check the second floor before we move on to the east wing, might be some keys or something up there."
More lonely antique corridors, lit only by a few low-burning gas lamps and the flickering light of the storm raging outside. With every step the mansion seems to groan softly, whispering to you in the way it creaks and settles, warning you that you don't belong, that fleeing now is the only way to escape alive. You're much too busy jiggling locked door-handles just in case there's something important hiding in the twelfth guest bedroom or something - and to your smug validation, you're right. Sheet music of some kind using unfamiliar notation, kept in an ornate box on the nightstand. You get Issachar to pocket it since you lack any... clothes, for starters, and lead the way back down the corridor and into the east wing - might as well work your way down since you're already here.
This proves to be yet another stroke of good fortune as your next goal is indeed on the second floor and not the first - the east wing is dominated almost completely by a grand ballroom, walls lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, floor clear of all furniture and polished to such a mirror sheen you can practically see your reflection from up on the balcony. A chandelier hangs overhead but not like the one in the entry hall - this one has finely-cut crystals in the place of lamps or bulbs or candles, and here on the balcony you find some sort of control panel for it full of switches and buttons. These ones turn the entire chandelier, these ones rotate certain crystals, these ones swap certain crystals, and these ones engage the light emitters set high in the walls of the ballroom. When the focused beams strike the crystal chandelier they emit pure, high-pitched notes - aha, the sheet music.
"Want me to take this one?" you offer.
"No no, I'd like to play around with this some," Issachar says. "It's quite fascinating - such a shame it has to sit here gathering dust. Figuratively speaking."
His hands fly deftly across the controls, poking and prodding and experimenting, eyes flicking up to the sheet music balanced on top of the controls and back down again. Even the false starts sound beautiful, the crystals humming and resonating even in the brief moments that the light beams pass through them. You lean against the railing, watching that look of calm concentration on his face as he puzzles it out. Hah, he really meant what he said - he's not really the type wears their feelings on their sleeve, but even to you it's clear he's having the time of his life figuring out how the crystal display works.
"And... there," he says, smacking the big red 'on' button.
The ballroom comes alive with colour and noise. The supplementary lamps all along the walls flare up to their fullest extent, bathing the dance floor in warm orange-golden undertone to compliment the dancing kaleidoscopic highlights of the chandelier at work. A host of spectral dancers appear all at once in a single synchronous flash of white light, taking their places with almost eager precision as the music begins to play in earnest. Lords and ladies in finery made of mist, their faces featureless blurs of fog and light, their hands seeming to fuse into singular undefined masses as they come together in dance. You and Issachar watch in silence - when you get past the fact that it's ghosts doing it, there really is a certain beauty and charm to the steps. The spectral display is enough to make you think wistfully of what it must have been like in its prime, what a treat it would have been to watch it all from this lofty perch with pride.
And then, as quickly as it came, the music is gone. The chandelier stops dead, the lamps wink out, and the ghosts vanish. The ballroom is plunged into silent, cold darkness broken only by the loud, ringing clatter of the second crest half falling from its hiding place in the chandelier and bouncing on the floor below.
"Shame," Issachar says. He glances at you. "Shortcut?"
"What- oh, right."
You hoist him up and glide down to the dance floor so he can reunite the two crest pieces. You take a gander and the design doesn't seem to hold any new hidden meaning - probably blew the significance budget on the main door emblem. In any case you and Issachar make your way back to the entrance hall, checking all the doors on your way back just for thoroughness' sake. You find two ghosts in a bedroom, one in a dog mask, but whatever they're doing is their business so you just shut the door again and go on your way.
Back in the entrance hall, surprise surprise, your instincts are proven correct. Once Issachar slots the completed crest into its floor-divot you feel a rumble through the floor as some hidden mechanism turns over, stone grinding against stone as the secret door halfway up the stairs sinks down and out of sight. The tunnel beyond seems to be yet another staircase, descending down and down and down again into the darkness. You being a dragon and Issachar being Issachar, the pair of you descend without a second thought.
The way is dark and cramped, the tunnel low enough that you have to duck your head not to constantly scrape your horns along the arched ceiling. There's nowhere near enough room to walk side-by-side so you go first, talons clicking on every stone step, letting your hand trail along the wall beside you just in case there's something to find on the way down. For the longest time everything is infuriatingly grey and lightless, and you swear your eyes are starting to hurt from all the straining you've been doing, but then at last you see the bottom. And then you see something at the bottom that makes you triple-time it the rest of the way and burst into the hidden crypt.
It's a treasure vault. It's money. It's all the accumulated riches of the Douglas household hidden behind all the puzzles and monsters and curses and now you've found it and it's yours! You hop up and down in unmitigated glee, tail lashing happily as your eyes dart all around the room to look at the piles upon piles of treasure. It's a big room, big enough to be some kind of secret underground chapel, complete with its own chandelier (they do like their elaborate chandeliers), drapes emblazoned with the house heraldry hanging at all four corners. There's gold, there's jewels, there's jewellery, there's paintings, oh there's everything a dragon could want and it's all yours! It's all yours by right of you bloody well found it and you can finally have a proper hoard again!
"Come look come look!" you exclaim. "Issachar look look, my money! The map was pointing to some treasure after all!"
"Eldingar, I think-"
And then the lid of the sarcophagus you missed amid all the wealth grinds open. A shape slowly rises from within, not just climbing out but levitating, righting itself from a sleeping position to something more upright as it turns to face you. It's a man, a sleeping one at that, completely swathed in a long black cloak that hangs down to his ankles. He's beautiful in his own way, with an angular jaw and high cheekbones, but... wrong. You think he's of mixed heritage but whatever natural colour he had has been drained away, replaced by a grey-white pallor of undeath. Thin black veins pulse beneath the flawlessly smooth flesh, most visible in the thinner skin of his pointed ears. His hair is long and glossy-black as the night and his eyes, as they finally, slowly open, remind you of Belial's eyes. Rings of unearthly yellow-gold swimming in pools of glistening ink.
"... so-" you start.
He flings his cloak open in a dramatic flourish and you completely forget whatever it was you were going to say next. For starters he's shirtless, and even with his complexion you cannot deny that it is one fantastic chest he's baring to the world. He's lean and athletic, carrying the sort of whipcord strength - and what he lacks in pure bulk he makes up for with tone so carefully calculated it seems downright artistic, good lord you wonder how one man can seem so soft and beautiful while still seeming like he doesn't have a spoonful of spare fat in his body. He wears a pair of glossy black gloves so long they go all the way to the shoulder, clinging to his arms as if painted on, conforming even to the curved claws you spy at the tip of each finger. His pants ride low enough to cause a stir all on their own, a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen, so tight you wonder how he can even stand it but you can't bring yourself to complain because those polished curves are exceedingly easy on the eyes. He plants his long, high-heeled boots firmly on the edge of his coffin and stares down at you - his gaze seems to capture you all over again and good gods now that you look at it is that makeup? It has to be. Black gloss to highlight the natural darkness of his lips, eyeshadow and eyeliner to emphasise his already alien and otherworldly gaze. This man knows presentation.
"... (Eldingar?)" Issachar prompts you, nudging you in the small of your back.
"(sh-shut up)"
You were too lost in the moment to appreciate it at first, but with renewed focus you realise that the lights have come on. The chandelier is burning bright, what must be two dozen candles set in the heavy brass thing even as it creaks ominously with every sway. Twin jets of flame burst from something or other hidden behind his coffin, framing his monochrome form with a burning 'V' of heat and light and sparks, as from all around the room music begins to play. You notice Issachar check behind one of the drapes out of the corner of your eye, taking a surreptitious sniff to doublecheck - enchanted gramophones, all playing his accompaniment in synch.
"Who is it that dares enter my lair uninvited?" he asks. His lips slowly peel back in a predatory smile, exposing far too many pearly-white teeth. Two in particular - his pointed, daggerlike fangs. "A dragon? Well... rare company indeed~"
"I-"
"If you thought that this cursed mansion was all you need overcome to claim its ancestral treasure, you will find you are sorely mistaken." He makes a deft gesture with his clawed fingers, beckoning his sword - on he has a swordbelt you completely missed that due to... distraction - into his hand by will alone. A thin-bladed rapier, suited more for thrusting and duelling than hacking through armour and flesh. He deliberately folds one arm behind his back, shifting his stance despite his precarious place atop the edge of the coffin, and presents his sword-arm. "May I have this dance, burglar?"
It occurs to you that this opponent in particular is unlikely to be as much of a pushover as the other mansion residents. It also occurs to you that this opponent is almost certainly a potential boyfriend and that seems grounds enough to try and avoid a fight. It then finally occurs to you that he seems to have worked very hard setting all this up and it's possible he won't appreciate attempts to negate all that work.
That in mind, you decide to...
[ ] Fight him. Well he did ask.
--[ ] Drop the chandelier on his head. It's big and obvious, and in the context of this mansion it seems to all but scream to be used.
--[ ] Dig through the treasure for some kind of magic weapon. Maybe you'll get lucky and find something that counters whatever kind of undead he is.
--[ ] Break the magic gramophones. It might throw him off his rhythm, make him vulnerable to a quick knockout.
[ ] Push Issachar into the proverbial ring to fight him for you. Maybe this way you'll get him to show his stuff.
[ ] Try to negotiate a peaceful resolution to all this. After all, he is your future boyfriend. A magic map told you so.
[ ] Compliment him for his choice in accompaniment because this battle music really is quite catchy.
Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on May 30, 2018 at 8:47 PM, finished with 2144 posts and 41 votes.
[X] Compliment him for his choice in accompaniment because this battle music really is quite catchy.
[X] Fight him. Well he did ask.
--[X] Dig through the treasure for some kind of magic weapon. Maybe you'll get lucky and find something that counters whatever kind of undead he is.
[X] Fight him. Well he did ask.
--[X] Dig through the treasure for some kind of magic weapon. Maybe you'll get lucky and find something that counters whatever kind of undead he is.
[X] Fight him. Well he did ask.
--[X] Drop the chandelier on his head. It's big and obvious, and in the context of this mansion it seems to all but scream to be used.
the dinner table as it should be, jam-packed with members of the Douglas house sitting down for a meal together. Of course they all look miserable and put-upon but that's accurate to both family paintings and real life so it passes by you with scarcely a notice.
That reminds me of that tumblr post about how 50% of all adventurers are dragons in disguise flirting by appreciating each other's well-designed lairs.
[x] Compliment him for his choice in accompaniment because this battle music really is quite catchy.
)
