TT: take the stairs up
From Create Your Own Story
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A dark, cobwebbed hallway yawns in front of you. The splendor that used to adorn it is reduced to tattered rags and mouldy wood. You take one yearning look back, then you step into the corridor. There's no sign of anyone coming through here, but you walk down it anyways. All the doors are locked. Just as you're cheerfully thinking of turning back, you find a door that's not locked. You open it. | A dark, cobwebbed hallway yawns in front of you. The splendor that used to adorn it is reduced to tattered rags and mouldy wood. You take one yearning look back, then you step into the corridor. There's no sign of anyone coming through here, but you walk down it anyways. All the doors are locked. Just as you're cheerfully thinking of turning back, you find a door that's not locked. You open it. | ||
| - | It leads to what must be the master bedroom. A huge, canopied bed stands in the middle | + | It leads to what must be the master bedroom. A huge, canopied bed stands in the middle of the room, and the furnishings here were clearly of the finest quality when they were young. You step in and touch the fabric on the bed. It's obviously ancient, but the dust hasn't settled so thickly in here. In fact, it seems almost kept up... |
You hear the door close. You freeze, suddenly cold. | You hear the door close. You freeze, suddenly cold. | ||
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| + | *[[Be paralyzed in fear]] | ||
*[[Ask him who he his]] | *[[Ask him who he his]] | ||
*[[Ask him how he got there]] | *[[Ask him how he got there]] | ||
| - | |||
[[Category: Transylvanian Terror]] | [[Category: Transylvanian Terror]] | ||
Revision as of 21:06, 23 October 2009
You take the stair up.
A dark, cobwebbed hallway yawns in front of you. The splendor that used to adorn it is reduced to tattered rags and mouldy wood. You take one yearning look back, then you step into the corridor. There's no sign of anyone coming through here, but you walk down it anyways. All the doors are locked. Just as you're cheerfully thinking of turning back, you find a door that's not locked. You open it.
It leads to what must be the master bedroom. A huge, canopied bed stands in the middle of the room, and the furnishings here were clearly of the finest quality when they were young. You step in and touch the fabric on the bed. It's obviously ancient, but the dust hasn't settled so thickly in here. In fact, it seems almost kept up...
You hear the door close. You freeze, suddenly cold.
Expressionlessly, you turn around. Standing between you and the door is a man in evening dress.
He smiles, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth. "Velcome to my home."
