So the last time I wrote in this thing, we'd just gone to Wescote Manor, carrying the body of our good friend Samar "Purina" Moonwalker. That was less than a day ago, but so much stuff has happened since then, it's unbelievable! But I guess I'd better pick up where I left off.

Well, we stood around in the foyer to Wescote Manor, bleeding and pretty upset while Douglas (the gardener, remember?) went to get Burton Wescote, the master of the house. He came back down a few minutes later with the man, a youngish looking human who fit the stereotype of country squire disgustingly well. Out of gratitude, he decided to let us stay at his home for a few days while we recuperated, though of course (like any civilized host), he wanted Sam's body put somewhere outside where it wouldn't stink up the place. I get the distinct impression that nothing can be done for the poor boy, but while I'll be mourning him and all, the time for great carrying on has long since past.

Curiously, Burtie has another guest, which he himself admits is odd, since he hadn't had any for several months, and now he has two sets at once. Very odd; I wonder who in their right mind would come out here for a visit? Anyway, Burt sent Gabrielle (the maid) up to prepare our rooms, and then Holmes (the butler) took us to them, but alas, I couldn't get a bath (which I really really needed, having gone trekking through a marsh all morning long) because the other guest took the only room with one! How totally inconsiderate of her! Of course, having since met the other guest, I'm not entirely surprised by this, but that will come later.

Well, I sat in my room doing my best to clean up and trying to come up with a good song for dear old Sam, while Tolec, bless his little human heart, went to meet the other guest and talked her into letting me borrow her room long enough to get a bath! Tolec can be surprisingly kind sometimes, although of course I suspect he has an ulterior motive for this one (he wanted a bath too).

A few hours later, all cleaned up and refreshed, we were led down to dinner, where the rest of us met the other guest, a human monk by the name of Lihon. I'm normally a pretty openminded kind of girl, but I took an immediate loathing of the woman. She's smug and arrogant and obnoxious and condescending and someone should cut out her ovaries with a butterknife. Fortunately, she's somewhat of a pagan (she believes in some nebulous Spirit, which sounds even more ridiculous than Prihelm's faith in Torm or Al's in whatever her name was), so she doesn't get along much better with the religious people in the group, so maybe I can get them to hold her down for me?

Anyhow, Lihon, by some curious coincidence, was also going to visit George Weathermay, carrying a letter or some such from her temple. I'm still kind of unclear as to how she ended up in the moors if she was trying to get to the town, but then, Lihon is a blonde and not very bright even for one of them. Imagine, she calls me "Young One," as if she weren't aware that I, being an elf, have already experienced far more years than she, a mere human, ever will! Stupid little twit! I'm trying to decide on an appropriate nickname for that creature, but I haven't been able to pick between Monkeygirl, Bambi, Blondie, Grasshopper, Farmgirl, and Hey You, so I suppose I'll have to just try them all until I find the one she likes least.

Well, Burton asked us to help him, since we seemed like the brave bold adventurous types; he's sick to death of being cursed, and he wants us to help lift it. Since his curse presumably involves the Bog Hounds in some way, it seemed like a good thing to do, so we agreed, and he told us the story from his side.

I tell you, this Ann Campbell woman sounds like quite the harridan! I suspect she and Farmgirl would get along fabulously.

Burt took us on a quick tour of his home, pointing out that a few rooms were blocked off for safety, since otherwise, the Bog Hounds could come in through them. Some of them are boarded up (like the downstairs ballroom), while other doors (like the door into the gallery that opens into the ballroom from upstairs) are only locked. I instantly decided we might want to have a look at these places; after all, everyone in town was pretty much convinced that this place was evil!

After a brief bit of rest, Holmes brought us into the study at Burt's request, so that we could see this ghost that shows up every night. Burt is, apparently, deeply interested in undead, since most of his reading material had to do with them. This isn't entirely shocking, I suppose, since he is haunted by them, but it's still a little suspicious. What's more, there were family portraits on the wall up to the time of the original Burton Wescote, but while there was a picture of the murdered Michael, there wasn't a picture of Burton, and no portraits since. I thought this was a little odd, but didn't say anything yet. Also on the wall, over the mantle, was a portrait of Ann Campbell (you kind of have to wonder why they leave this portrait up, don't you?), and next to it was a dagger, driven into the wall (I'm thinking that this is the murder weapon) and Ann's curse:

When the clock struck three, Burt walked over to the large window and drew back the curtains, murmuring "Ah, it begins again. Every night at three, her apparition forms and she takes her pack of hounds out to hunt the moors. Watch!"

He stood there staring out at the land behind the house, which was shimmering oddly. From our vantage point, we could see the glow turn into the a young woman, although we were too far away for even me to be able to make out the face. She looked up at the house for a moment and then whirled and raced off towards the moors, followed soon by a pack of ravenous hounds. "There she goes with her dogs, off to hunt the innocents who wander abroad," muttered our host. The he closed the drapes and fastened them quickly, but not before we glimpsed another ghostly figure chasing after the pack.

I was starting to get a little suspicious about our host, especially once Gabrielle, who was taking us back to our rooms, shared a few things with us (the servants in this household love to talk). Apparently, that other figure that Burt wouldn't let us see has been there at least as long as Gabrielle has, which was thirty years ago or so. This was just after she was hired by correspondence with Burt's father, who died before she could get here. She imagines that Burtie is about fifty years old, but well preserved. Even weirder, every morning at about 9, Burt goes into the bog for about 30 minutes or so. He looks really sick when comes back, spends most of his day gagging, and so he gets really cross if dinner or desert comes out badly.

I was starting to get really quite suspicious of our host, and I actually have a theory that he is the original Burton Wescote, kept alive all these years in one way or another. After all, no one here has seen any Wescote but him, and there's no portrait of any of the Wescotes leading back to the "original" Burton, although there is a space on the wall in the dining room where a portrait obviously used to hang. And obviously, our host is hiding something. It was definitely time to take a look around!

The problem with this plan, of course, was in figuring out who to bring with me. I couldn't very well take 'Dar or Al, since they needed to rest, and Prihelm would have complained bitterly, being blinded by his silly paladinish rules and stuff, so that left Lihon and Tolec. I wasn't thrilled about the prospect of going anywhere with that.. that... that CREATURE, but an escort is normally a good thing to have, so I gritted my teeth and asked her if she would give me a hand. I hadn't pictured her as being blinkered by as stupid a code as Prihelm's, but apparently she is, so I just sent her off to bed and tried to wedge her door shut with a knife in case she decided to follow me later, before grabbing Tolec and telling him to come with me.

Of course, I couldn't get through the lock on the upstairs gallery without making too much noise, so we had to come in through the ballroom downstairs. I don't know how I let myself get talked into this kind of thing (I'd been planning on waiting until morning, but Al talked me into trying it at night before heading off to bed)! So Tolec and I went outside and snuck around to the back, and it was about the most nerve-wracking thing I've done in a long long time. First that idiot human thought he heard panting, even though it was just a branch scratching a window. Then he failed to notice that there wasn't any breeze, so there wasn't any reason for the branch to be moving to begin with! Tolec's a nice guy, but not so good on details.

Eventually, we made our way into the ballroom, which was really cold and whose floor was covered with mud and straw (like the earthly remains of a Bog Hound, for instance). I was just starting to think that someone must have been either making a lot of Bog Hounds in there or killing a lot of them in there when suddenly, a gigantic dog appeared right in front of us! It had to be the size of a horse, coal black with flaming red eyes and these huge slavering jaws and everything! Oddly, it was also partially translucent; I suppose it was a ghost or something like that (althought it left drool and a really really big pawprint on the floor...), but I wasn't waiting around to find out, either! Suddenly, just as I was going out through the window, a trio of Bog Hounds jumped in, the big dog disappeared, and Tolec vanished under a swarm of the muddy little varmints!

To their credit, the others came to out aid right away, although it took them a while to get through the door (it being locked and all). I sometimes worry about them, though; they're not much help, especially not Farmgirl. All she managed to do was to accidentally bean Prihelm with her cudgel when she swung it at the nearest hound and lost her grip. Obviously, someone will have to teach her the finer points of fighting!

We went back upstairs to rest for a few hours, and then early in the morning, we went down for breakfast, having forgotten that Burt doesn't eat breakfast himself. After all, if we were to help the poor suffering martyr, we had to locate Ann's resting place, and he'd indicated he knew the general location at least. But he didn't come down, never went off into the moors... Talk about your wasted mornings!

We were just bickering with each other about what to do next when we heard a door slam from the kitchen, and headed over to investigate (we hadn't been there yet). There were, interestingly, some stairs leading down underneath the house which we hadn't heard about before... This would have borne further investigation, but unfortunately, Martine (the cook) was there and we couldn't very well sneak down without her spotting us. On the other hand, she told us all sorts of things (probably not important things, mind you), about the other servants. Like I said, the servants here love to talk.

Holmes used to be an adventurer, and he allegedly fancies Gabrielle, but she'll have none of him. He'ss a bit stuck on himself, and wandered in a few years back, all bloody and beaten up, with a lady friend who died that very night,. Martine thinks the woman was on the mend, she so finds it suspicious that the woman died the very night she got here, and Holmes didn't even weep! Oooh, the tragedy!

Douglas is always going downstairs when he thinks no one is looking. drinking. In fact, he once fell down the stairs drunk and broke his leg. Probably, Dougy has consumed most of Burt's supply, and Burton is a bit upset about this, which is too bad for Douglas; Burton doesn't get mad often, but he has a nasty temper when he does and he's really really strong.

Meanwhile, our good friend Gabby, said Martine, is stupid! And she sees things! She may even think she sees the future! What's more, she was dismissed from Mayor's staff, having been caught "carrying on." Good goddess, these people really love to gossip. Somehow, I don't think any of this is relevant, but you never know.

Having told us all these important things, Martine went out back while we ate, and naturally, Prihelm, Lihon, and I immediately went down the stairs. Of course, dust and cobwebs were everywhere, and we found ourselves in a wine cellar (just like Martine mentioned). On the other hand, there were some odd stains on the floor (we couldn't really tell if it was wine or something else), and there was another room that appeared to be a furnirture graveyard or something like that, undisturbed for quite some time. Maybe the missing portrait from the dining room is buried down there somewhere. But we didn't have time to look for it, since we heard the front door slam and an argument coming from the foyer. Curiouser and curiouser.

Rushing over to see what was happening (from a hidden vantage point, of course), I saw Burt at the top of the stairs, bent over and holding his belly. Holmes was holding a tray that had earlier had tea on it (we'd seen it in the kitchen while we were talking to the cook). The two of them were arguing.

Burt: "I said not today, not today!"

Holmes: "But, sir, surely some..."

Burt: "I said NO! I am Master here, not you!"

Burt slapped the tray, sending it flying, making a mess and generally being infantile before he stomped on towards his study. Holmes started cleaning up and the rest of us went up to talk to him, but the bastard was remarkably unhelpful. I can see why Gabrielle won't have anything to do with him! With nothing better to do, Lihon and I went up to visit Burt in his study, where we found him bent over, gagging and extremely pale. He said he was okay but had poor digestion which, normally, was settled by his morning walk. Why do I not believe him?

We were just asking about Ann's body when Prihelm, having realized that some of us were suspicious of our host, came storming in and frankly insulted the man. Dear god in heaven, why did he have to do that? Prihelm has to be the least cultured paladin I've ever met! Burt, of course, kicked him out of the house, and it was only after I apologized profusely for the oaf and made all sorts of excuses that I was able to keep Prihelm from having to leave, on the condition that he stay as far from Burt as possible. I really need to explain to our paladin that he should take a year long vow of silence or something in order to get closer to Torm; it would help us all!

Having smoothed over this minor crisis, Lihon and I were able to pick up a few more bits of useful information. Ann died somewhere to the east of the manor, in a clearing of some sort, half of a mile or maybe a mile away. When I asked how long back this was, Burt thought for as bit, then realized that it would be exactly a century ago tomorrow night! I'm now firmly convinced that we're dealing with the "Mud hounds" and the "centurial dead" that Valanda mentioned in her prophecy so long ago. Now, if I could only figure out if the person we need to give justice to is Ann (which I think is more likely) or Michael (who, after all, will also have been dead for a century tomorrow night).

We also learned that the original Burton died some sixty years back; he had business to attend to in another part of Mordent so he left. He died there, in some unknown village. Why do I find this incredibly suspicious?

Since Burt couldn't tell us any more, Li and I left him in peace; we were strangely united in our condemnation of the blasted paladin, and I grabbed him by the ear and dragged him along with us to the foyer so that I could explain my theory to the group, chewing him out the entire way and backed up by Bambi. He would later compare the sensation to being attacked by a pair of rabid chihuahuas, which I don't find particularly complimentary, but then, our Prihelm is not so good at dealing with the opposite sex, as you might have gathered by now.

After explaining my theory to the rest of the group and getting into a big argument with Al, who was being all rude and snitty and threatened to stop healing me because I'm "unkind" to him, having conveniently ignored the fact that he hasn't said a nice thing to or about me in his entire life! The gall! I wish things hadn't worked out the way they did, because that was the last time I ever talked to the man, and now I feel sort of guilty. And what makes me so mad is that I don't want to feel guilty because of a fight with Al! It's one thing to feel bad about fighting with Haley or Tolec or Prihelm or 'Dar, and quite another to feel bad about arguing with Al or Monkeygirl!

We headed off trying to find Ann's body while I started to tell stories just to keep the group morale up, when suddenly, the fog started to roll in again. I am so bloody SICK of fog and swamps! I'm even sicker of quicksand, but of course, Bambi (who was in the lead) stopped us ("we're being watched," she said) right in the middle of a patch of quicksand that she'd so conveniently led us into.

Once again, I had to make my way over to a tree by virtue of using my rope and grappling hook, and I was just helping to pull Al to freedom when I felt something on my hand! I turned around, and... oh goddess, there were a pair of snakes! I hate snakes! I mean, I really really hate snakes! I leapt back from the tree, letting Al fend for himself, but not before I got bit twice and promptly fainted dead away (I really don't deal well with snakes).

I came to a few minutes later, still panicking. "B.B.B.B.B.Big snake. Ohmygod I'm poisoned... I'm gonna die!" I could feel the poison burning in my veins and everything! To make matters worse, Prihelm was groping me, for some reason! (He claims he was looking for a potion. I think he's just a pervert.) Fighting down my panic and my indignation, I was able to tell him "Get Al, you idiot, not my left breast!" before he reluctantly informed me that Al, being an idiot, had managed to get himself drowned in the quicksand. I would have spent a moment mourning the loss of our cleric (a very short moment, mind you, but still a moment), except that I had more important things on my mind, like the fact that I could feel myself slipping further and further towards death. Since the others don't know anything about my spiritual beliefs, I had to explain things to them as best as I could through my belabored breathing... I'd just managed to get Prihelm to promise me that he'd bury me at sea when he said "You have been in my heart since the beginning. It cannot end this way!"

And with the thoroughly discomfitting thought that the paladin had just told me he loved me, I saw a tunnel, with glorious light at the end, and I moved up it just in time to see my beloved parents (who've been dead for seventy years or so) before it all went black.

When I woke up, I found myself in a bed in Wescote Manor again, surrounded by people like Lihon and Prihelm! What happened to my parents?!? I was so close to rejoining them, and now I've been routed off into this truly miserable afterlife! What did I ever do to deserve this?!? Lihon claims that I'm now an undead or something like that, and that I'm cursed to help her and the others deal with Ann Campbell, and then I can go to my eternal reward. I don't quite know how, but this is all that stupid paladin's fault!