Night 020

[allthekeys]

|| THREAT DOWN

|| NIGHT 020: GENERAL || CASTLE As the sun sets, the sound of shattering glass echoes from the third floor. Within a few minutes, corpses, in various states of decay, begin parading down the stairs. Though their appearances vary, most of them are in burial clothes and all have their mouths sewn shut. The walking dead will try to touch or remain near the living, who will gradually begin to feel more and more exhausted as they remain in proximity to the creatures. This loss of energy can lead to unconsciousness, and in extreme cases, death. They will not, however, leave the castle unless in pursuit of a living being. They prefer humanoids over non-humanoids. The guards will attempt to stem the flow of the dead, and while the dead cannot kill them, the walking suits of armor begin to weaken as they fight. The Cook has vanished, and the door to the Pantry has been left open. Anyone who ventures down to the Wine Cellar will quickly notice that most of the casks have been punctured, and the burgundy liquid has flooded the room. While chaos ensues in the castle, the birds in the Songbird Parlor harmonize in an upbeat tune that sounds like a waltz. || TOWN The salamanders can be seen leaving the castle, a stream of movement across the ground. They are quick to attack any fire and focus in on the bricklayer's kiln quickly before infesting the village. They will be drawn to all heat sources as usual. || GARDENS AND YARD Most of the lights in the Stables have gone out, leaving the area uncharacteristically dark. Something slinks along the rafters overhead. It’s difficult to make out its form, but in the occasional flicker of light, one might be able to glimpse that it is vaguely feline in shape. The creature will drop to attack those who linger in the area, giving them a much clearer view—although at a rather dangerous price. It seems like it should be dead by all appearances; its neck crooks the side at an odd angle, its eyes are glassy and unfocused, and its fur is falling out in patches. Its mouth hangs open to reveal a pair of long and pronounced canine teeth. It is impossibly fast and will latch onto its targets with sharp claws and fangs, aiming for the jugular. Once it’s gotten hold of a victim, it will not let go until they have been drained of blood. For whatever reason, it will only attack those who are humanoid in form. The baby Gryphons squeak in distress throughout the night, seemingly inconsolable. || THE RUINS The ruins are quiet. Hunters splash contentedly in the river, though even they seem more relaxed than usual tonight. A low howling, intermixed with the occasional snarl and grunt, can be heard coming from somewhere in the distance beyond the fog. The noises seem to get closer as the night draws on.