The Lunacy of the Guilloux Mansion Playground Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Here is the first post of The Lunacy of the Guilloux Mansion Playground.

The discussion thread is separate, so, as we all know, please direct all questions, comments, and concerns, basically anything out of character to THIS PAGE.



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It ached.

Oh, how it ached. It creaked and groaned with the harsh winds of the frigid, swampy Pale, shuddering with each gust like a child in the cold. Freezing rain pattered against its warm shingles, sliding down the roof to greet the equally cold ground.

It yearned.

Years had passed, repairs had been made. The fires that had broken out, scorching its beloved halls, revealing its secrets within, murdering its precious mistress, have long been quenched. The one who's fingertips brushed its inner walls lightly, murmuring softly to it was but a ghost of a ghost.

It hungered.

As the victims drew closer, it exhaled in anticipation, the windows peering out like eyes in all directions. Watching.

The Guilloux Mansion would again taste blood.


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CRACK!

The Dunmer cried out in pain as the whip licked at her arm, a purple whelp rising up where she had been snapped. The hand that reached to soothe the wound with a spell was also whipped.

"Leave it. And hurry up!" The Breton woman snapped. "This place is a mess! Don't heal yourself until you're finished! It better sparkle before the guests arrive!"

"Yes, muthsera." The Dunmer woman said, her voice edged with the throbbing pain of her wounds. Blood beaded up on her arm and hands. As her mistress walked away, heels clacking down the wooden floor of the hallway, she uttered a small curse. Foggy sunlight streamed through the windows momentarily, lighting up the floor of the dim kitchen momentarily. A moment later, a Breton man walked in with a large tub of water.

"What did you do?" Sweat glistened on his pale, freckled brow. His fiery red hair was matted with sweat as he set the large cauldron of water onto the hook. He started the fire with a fire spell, the logs catching easily after dying overnight.

"Nothing, Antoine. I just wasn't quick enough with my scrubbing."

"The floor looks great."

"She didn't think so."

"Help me with this. The baby is craving my stew. Again." the cook said. "Quickly, Anaya."

The maid fished the proper ingredients out, jumping as a bellow was heard from outside.

---

The stablehand cried out as the curly-headed Breton woman whipped him with her small whip. The wiry man, not yet twenty, cowered on his hands and knees, suffering blow after blow.

"Madame Belladonna! Please!" He begged, his pale face turning red from the effort of not crying. She relented, panting.

"You groom those horses properly! You hear me?" She side-arms one last blow, striking his across his left thigh. He cried out again, sobbing.

"Yes, Madame!"

"The carriages will be here any moment! I'm sure at least one will have their own horse. You clean that stable out!" She pressed a hand to her engorged belly, the infant inside kicking, alerted at the woman's heightened anger.

"Shhhhh, little one. Mama's a little stressed. Don't worry. We'll be fine." She turned sharply at the stablehand.

"Direct them when they come in, Jon. And clean yourself up." She whirled to the sprawling three-story mansion, black velvet dress flowing behind her. As she closed the door, a carriage rumbled up, piquing the boy's interest. As it came to a rest, the boy timidly walked up, his thin frame pushed by a sudden gust of wind. Clouds rolled in, darkening the skies significantly. He bobbed his blonde head.

"Rain's coming. right. Better get inside. Madame's in the study room, first door on the right." he said to the traveler. "Best get in 'fore it starts pouring."

A cold drop of rain hit the traveler's nose.