I don't own anything. Buffy and Pathfinder are not owned by me. Nor are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me. Into the Prison
The wall surrounding the prison was made of the same plain gray stone that was used to construct the town. It stood ten feet thick and twenty feet high, although it was partially collapsed where a lake had developed along the eastern side of the grounds. Past the wall the prison itself was visible, a two story affair with a tile roof that brooded on the hilltop south of the town. A somewhat overgrown trail had led from the southern end of Ravengro around the hill and to sagging wood and metal gates, which now hung open uselessly, creaking softly in the gentle breeze.
To Buffy's senses, the building had an ominous feeling, as though it were saturated in evil supernatural energies, the power of its malevolence rendering her spidey-sense nearly useless with its interference. Even beyond that, however, her view of the prison had bothered her from the moment she first laid eyes upon it as they had climbed the path to its gates. She had seen it before. Harrowstone prison was the shadowed silhouette from her slayer dream.
Buffy had been unable to return to sleep that morning after her nightmare, and so she had been able to clean her bloody name off of the wall before her friend had arisen. Afterwards she had gone outside and slowly worked through all of her tai chi forms, the soothing practice allowing her to center herself for the no doubt trying day ahead. The serenity she brought back with her had calmed Kendra down significantly as they had shared a light breakfast, and after placing wrapped meals and waterskins in her bag of holding they had set out to face the source of the troubles plaguing Ravengro.
Buffy stepped through the gates first, but as she did so she froze, as a rush of claustrophobia swept through her and her skin burned. For a long moment she felt as though she was trapped in her coffin, and yet was also somehow on fire from Annika's magics once again. Then, as swiftly as she had felt them, the sensations departed, leaving her unharmed.
“Buffy?” Kendra asked, concerned.
“I'm fine,” she answered brusquely, leading the way once more.
The gargoyle decorated prison was covered in ivy, and it had several large balconies, one on either side of the building that ran its entire length, as well as a small one above the entrance doors which sagged, nearly collapsed. The right balcony was partially collapsed as well as it fell into the large pond which extended past the collapsed outer wall. In all, the building showed every one of the fifty years that had passed since its basement level burned, the rot and dilapidation obvious.
Buffy strolled past the small house in the front yard that had once served as the home for the warden and his wife, now barely standing. The front doors of the prison hung askew, revealing a dark hallway within. As Buffy stood near the entrance taking in the large building, Kendra suddenly walked to the foundation and knelt, pushing aside the vines.
“What is it,” Buffy asked, walking up behind her. Sinuous runes were etched into the stone and stained with blood, although Buffy could tell it was fairly old.
“They are mystic runes in Varisian,” Kendra answered distantly, slowly moving along the length of the wall to look at the markings. “They include a number of magical incantations, as well as the name Lyvar Hawkran writ over and over again.”
“That's the Warden, right?”
“Yes. Warden Hawkran died keeping the prisoners from escaping. From what I can tell some form of abjuration and necromantic ritual was performed recently at this site, one directed at the warden.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“I do not know. I am unable to discern the nature of the magics employed here, other than in the most broad strokes. But I would suppose that such a ritual would be employed to affect the Warden if he was haunting this place, although why after it was performed we would be troubled by ghostly inmates I know not.”
“Well, we won't find out hanging 'round out here. Come on.” Kendra stood and smiled at her friend, examining her crossbow one last time before slinging it over her shoulder. Buffy had convinced her to bring the weapon, and a few daggers as well, but she still insisted on wearing a dark red floor length dress despite the danger, although she had added a belt covered in pouches to her ensemble. Buffy pulled out a silver bladed short sword and one of the foot long gold tipped sun rods from her bag of holding. With a smooth motion she struck the end of the rod against her sword, causing it to light with a steady golden glow, and Buffy held it up above her head with her left hand as she led the way into the prison.
The entrance foyer was a foul place, with walls streaked with mold and a floor carpeted with gray fungi. The room was square, with five sets of solid oak doors, three of which, including the one they had passed through, were double doors. “Any preference?” Buffy asked in a hushed voice, the creepy silence of the abandoned prison discouraging her from speaking loudly.
“Not really,” Kendra answered just as softly. “Perhaps we should press straight on?”
“Alrighty,” Buffy answered, crossing the floor with Kendra behind her until she reached the double doors across from the entrance. Turning its handle she pushed the sturdy door open, only for it to suddenly pull out of her hand, slamming open with a loud boom. Simultaneously all of the other doors slammed open as well, and from each doorway spectral faces, ravaged by fire, shrieked and gibbered at them madly for a moment before slamming the doors closed once more. All was silent.
“That was... bracing,” Kendra said, clearly rattled.
“Well, on the bright side, that would keep out door to door salesmen,” Buffy said, her voice forcefully cheerful.
“I think the inconvenience would outweigh the advantages,” Kendra answered dryly, relaxing slightly with the banter.
“I dunno. If I had that when social services came 'round, I would have been a much happier Buffy,” she said, smiling at her friend, who simply looked confused at the reference. With a shrug, she tried the door again, only to find it stuck closed even when she used her slayer strength. “So, the door won't open. I'm thinking its a haunt. They should be all over a place like this, being all with the spooky.”
“Yes,” Kendra agreed. “A slamming portal haunt I should think.”
Buffy dug into her bag of holding and pulled out a haunt siphon. Before she could use it, however, Kendra interrupted her. “Wait. We only have four of those, and there is a better way of dealing with this. All haunts have a method for permanently ending them, and many are unique. However, this is a very common varient, and it should only require the proper application of a small quantity of holy water to finish this off for good.” Kendra dug into a pouch she had attached to her belt and pulled out a small vial, splashing it on the door. An eerie moan echoed around the room, until with a creak all of the doors visibly aged before their eyes until they hung loose on their hinges. “That did it. With the haunt exorcised, the doors are now no longer being held up with their power, and so they are now returned to their proper state.”
“How did you know that?” Buffy asked. “You've done nothing but study the Psychotic Script...”
“Pnakotic Manuscripts,” Kendra interjected.
“...and I'm the one that spent days being all research-girl about ghost-y stuff. How did you know that?”
“Well, when father passed, I knew that his death could have some connection to the undead that haunt this place, and so I spent nearly two weeks absorbing everything contained within his library on the subject.”
“Oh. Well, I knew it was a haunt!”
Kendra just smirked at her and gestured for Buffy to continue, to which the slayer rolled her eyes as she opened the decrepit door. The hallway beyond was much the same as the foyer, overgrown with fungal growth and stinking of damp rot. Single doors at each end of the hallway were on the left, and a pair of sets of double doors were on the right, with double doors sagging at the end of the hallway as well. The first set of double doors to their right were broken, revealing rubble blocking a staircase leading down, no doubt the result of the deadfall the Warden had used to prevent the rioting prisoners from escaping. After checking the rubble and ensuring that it was indeed impassible, Buffy decided on a whim to push open the single door across from the blocked stairs, the rotting wood crumbling under her touch, sending the door to the ground with a bang.
Beyond was another hallway with two halls leading from it to the right. Looking down the first right corridor revealed a doorway to their right that had already collapsed, letting them see into a room that appeared to be a chapel, although it as so thickly enshrouded with rope-like cobwebs that it was difficult to make out any details. As they stood in the doorway looking into the room, sudden movement caused Buffy to bring up her sword.
Scuttling forward with great speed were three enormous spiders, each the size of a large dog, with hairy black bodies and long fangs dripping with viscous poisons. Stepping in front of Kendra Buffy raised her short sword as the lead spider jump through the air, thrusting the weapon to meet its hungry leap, green viscera splashing onto her arm as it convulsed on her blade, fully spitted. Unable to clear her sword in time Buffy simply kicked the second hard, cracking its chitinous body and breaking off one of its forelegs as she punted it like a football.
The third spider skittered up the wall beside of her, seeking to take advantage of her distraction to bite her from her flank, but she simply dropped her sword and pulled a dagger from her belt, tossing it with enough force to pierce the monster through its head and pin it to the stone wall. Turning to look at the one she had kicked away, Buffy hung back and watched as a chanting Kendra made a cupping motion with her right hand, before tossing a small droplet of green that grew in the air as it flew impossibly straight to strike the injured spider, revealing that the now snowball sized drop of fluid was a powerful acid as it burned away the face of the spider, causing it to die in agony, thrashing its remaining legs against the stone floor with a sound like an insane drummer.
Buffy said nothing but simply picked up he sword, pushing the dead spider off of the blade with her foot, before retrieving her dagger from its resting place in the stone wall. Looking around to ensure nothing else would jump out at them, she finally turned to Kendra. “Good job, finishing that one off.”
“Thank you. That was a simple cantrip, but sufficient for the task. I may not be a powerful wizard, but I will do my best with the powers that I have.”
“That's all you can ask. I don't know about you, but I'm not going in their without a really good reason. I mean, even if that's all of the spiders, we'd still be covered in webs. Just no.”
“I quite agree,” Kendra said, shuddering as they looked through the doorway at the room full of webbing. “Not even a ghost would wish to dwell in such a place.”
Turning around they walked across the hallway and pushed open the door opposite the webbed chapel. The room beyond was a shambles of rotting benches and rusting lengths of chain. Stepping inside the two tensed once more as feelings of shame and anger swept over them, lingering in the very stones of the prison. A sourceless sobbing filled their ears, and feelings of complete hopelessness struck them as they felt for just a moment the sensation of manacles closing around their wrists. As they reeled from the emotional onslaught a heavy, rusty pair of manacles rose from the ground, clinking ominously as they suddenly flew at Buffy.
The slayer wasted no time as she pushed past the disturbing feelings to examine the sturdy object approaching her. Dropping her blade to the ground she pulled a tough steel hand axe from her bag of holding, shucking its protective cover off with flick of her wrist as the manacles shot towards her. Bringing the axe down hard she sent the cuffs crashing to the floor in a shower of sparks. As they began to rattle once more she brought her weapon down once, then twice more, until final the manacles shattered and lay still. “Was that another haunt?” Buffy asked.
“Maybe,” Kendra answered dubiously. “Even if it is, it was a minor one. Let us just proceed.”
Putting away her axe Buffy retrieved her silver bladed short sword and led the way down the hall to the next door. Pushing it open she saw that it was a filthy privy. Wrinkling her nose in distaste she quickly moved on to the next door. Inside were a set of washboards, iron tubs, and metal buckets interspersed with piles of moldy clothing. It took her a minute to realize that the chamber was in fact a primitive laundry room, the rotting clothing being the black and white striped prison uniforms that she had only seen in cartoons before.
Buffy started to turn to move on to the next room when she saw something moving. Looking closer, she saw that under the cloth an object the size of a small animal was silently shifting about, as though struggling to escape from the pile of clothing. Sheathing her sword at her belt, she pulling her long spear from her bag, a process that looked comical as the weapon was longer than she was tall. Preparing herself, she slowly probed the pile of clothes, ready for anything that might emerge.
What came out of the pile was a heavy leather straightjacket, its buckles made of thick iron as it was designed to contain even the strongest prisoner and render them helpless. It moved with shocking alacrity, open to enwrap its victim to bind and squeeze the life from them. Buffy was the slayer, however, and for however fast the haunted straightjacket was, it had nothing on her reaction time. Before it had moved more than a foot from the mound of cloth, Buffy thrust the spear one handed, the heavy steel tip imbedding in its center and pinning it to the far wall.
The two watched fascinated for a moment as the straightjacket struggled and bucked as it sought to free itself. Finally, Kendra stepped beside Buffy and began chanting in a language the slayer could not understand, before once more throwing a growing drop of green acid at the animate leather, eating away at it slowly. Three more times she cast the spell, until finally the tattered restraint stopped struggling. Shaking her spear to ensure that it was truly dead, Buffy finally put the long weapon back into her bag.
“That use of the spear was an excellent idea,” Kendra said as they walked further down the hallway.
“Thanks. There isn't much I wouldn't be willing to poke with a ten foot spear.”
“Don't people usually refer to poking things with ten foot poles?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “You guys say that too? Huh. My theory? If you can do something with a stick? Your better off doing it with a pointy stick.”
“You frighten me sometimes,” Kendra replied, shaking her head resignedly.
The next door was locked, although it was so rotten that Buffy easily kicked it in, allowing them entrance. Within was a large room with several wooden tables covered in sewing tools and piles of fabric, much of which had fallen to the floor at some point during the intervening decades. Protruding from one pile of cloth was an arm, rotten away to nothing but a skeleton with a few scraps of cloth that may once have been gloves still clinging to it.
When they entered Buffy felt something manifesting with her spidey-senses. Harrowstone was so awash with dark mystic forces that it had been nearly as difficult to sense anything as it had been when near the Hellmouth, the overwhelming darkness occluding supernatural presences. The being rising before them from the nearly hidden body was mystically powerful enough for her to notice anyway, and that made Buffy distinctly wary.
The figure was a beautiful woman who was entirely colored in shades of blue. She had blue hair, blue eyes, blue skin, a lovely though tattered blue dress and accessories, and blue tear stains on her blue cheeks. “Greetings. Are you the new guards that have come to this prison?” she asked as blue wisps of smoke drifted from her mouth.
“Well,” Buffy said after a moment, “we're here in a protective-type capacity.”
“Good,” the ghost replied, her sad voice growing stronger as she focused on the slayer. “What will you be doing to this place?”
“We're going to re-dead the undead,” Buffy said challengingly, her eyes hard. Kendra gulped slightly, gripping her crossbow so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
“Good,” the ghost said, relieved. “The inmates are growing unruly as of late, and my husband is no longer here to keep them prisoner.”
“Yes. I am Vesorianna Hawkran, the wife of Warden Hawkran. For many years my husband guarded this prison in life and death, but with his absence the Splatter Man seeks to initiate another prison break.”
“Wait,” Buffy said, holding up a hand. “Hold the phone. What happened to the warden?”
“The woman in the cloak took him away.”
“Woman in the cloak?” Buffy asked slowly, remembering her slayer dream.
“Yes. I never saw her face, as she only came at night and she always wore a hooded cloak while she was here. She had several men with her who she had help her carve runes about the foundations of Harrowstone. One night she performed a blood ritual, and I felt as though a terrible wind passed through this prison. Not of the flesh, but of the soul, and it seemed as though it would tear me to pieces. When it was done, my husband was gone.”
“Did you see anyone else recently?” Kendra asked, her eyes pleading. “An older man.”
“Yes,” the ghost said as she examined Kendra for the first time. “He came during several days, and then again the night of the ritual. He attempted to disrupt it, but the woman used some foul magics and slew him. She then used a stone to cave in his face to make it appear to be an accident, rather than murder.”
Kendra sobbed quietly, and Buffy placed a hand comfortingly on her shoulder as she swallowed her own reaction, needing to stay focused. “So all the stuff going on is 'cause the warden is gone?”
“Yes,” Vesorianna said. “My husband kept the other prisoners here. With him gone I have tried my best to do his job, but I have been sorely taxed to do so, and of late I have found myself weakening. Something is draining my power, and with it the others grow more bold.”
“Your name was getting written a letter at a time in blood.”
“I see. Yes, that is probably the cause. The Splatter Man engineered the original riot from solitary confinement with his magics, and now he uses his arts to weaken me. If I am gone, nothing will stop them from sweeping across the countryside, burning Ravengro in vengeance before preying on other towns all across Ustalav. While I feel anger for the people who let me and my husband die, I do not wish that fate to befall them.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“The day of the riots I came to the prison to find out why Lyvar wasn't at supper, only to discover that he was trapped in the lower levels with the prisoners, and that no one would free him. I lowered the elevator to try and get him out, but the remaining guards locked me in this room. When the fires broke out they had forgotten about me, and I died with my husband from the smoke. Ravengro let that happen, but even though they killed us I would not want them to suffer such a fate as the inmates would cause.”
“The people of Ravengro have not forgotten your sacrifice,” Kendra said quietly, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “They have constructed a memorial to all of the people of Ravengro who died in the fire, including your husband and yourself.”
Vesorianna smiled a small smile at that. “That does me well to hear, but even so, we have more pressing concerns. If you do not stop the threat of the five prisoners, then all of the inmates will break free of this prison. If you can lay them to rest, and then bring me a symbol of my husband's office, I can rid all of Harrowstone of their taint forever.”
“Do you know who the five prisoners are?” Buffy asked. “Or where they are?”
“They are the most notorious prisoners ever held by Harrowstone: the Splatter Man, who leads them, the Lopper, the Mosswater Marauder, Father Charlatan, and the Piper of Illmarsh. I do not know where in the prison they dwell, but all are here, and many more inmates besides.”
“Thanks,” Buffy said, nodding to the ghost. “We'll stop them, and then we'll get something to finish the job.”
“I will be waiting,” Vesorianna said as she drifted over to the window, her translucent form turning the sunlight an eerie blue. “Go back to the entrance hall and take the first right from the main doors. There is a secret storage vault that contains certain items once owned by the five. They may be able to aid you in defeating them, although the connection has left them cursed. You must have a care how you employ what you may find.”
When Buffy and Kendra were safely away from the ghost the blonde looked at her companion. “She was nice.”
Kendra gave her a wary look. “She was a ghost.”
“She was a nice ghost. She didn't even possess us or threaten us or anything. Plus, we were right about the five prisoners. Go research.”
“Should we go after these items? Curses are not something to be taken lightly.”
“Yeah. It might bite us later, but ghosts aren't easy to hurt. I had to stab one once with his own knife to kill him, so I'm thinking we should grab their stuff and see if it'll help.”
They followed the ghost's directions, returning swiftly to the entrance room, where they were confronted with two passages leading from the foyer to the right from the entrance. One was a set of double doors, and the other was a single. After conferring for a moment they chose the single door, as it was the closest to the entrance. Beyond the door was a short hallway with a solid looking metal door at its end. When Buffy tried it she discovered that it was both locked and firmly in place. She took a step back to try and kick it down when Kendra placed a hand on her arm to stop her.
“There's a better way to approach this,” she said, facing the door squarely. In a calm clear voice she spoke a single word which passed through Buffy's mind and found no purchase there. Normally she was bad at remembering strange words, but she guessed that even Giles would have been unable to retain whatever was said. An instant later she heard a tiny clicking sound from the door.
Buffy turned the handle, easily opening the heavily reinforced door. “Nice,” she said, smiling at Kendra as she led the way forward.
Beyond the iron door was a modest room full of wooden shelves of various goods all marked with tiny paper tags indicating who had owned them. Wandering the shelves they couldn't find anything which appeared to belong to the five prisoners that had become the central ghosts, although Buffy did stop when she found a large war razor, an incredibly sharp blade which could flip into its handle like a modern pocket knife, with a beautiful scrimshaw grip showing fish swimming up a waterfall. Opening the blade she was impressed by both its balance and the fact that it was made of silver. “Shiny.”
“Did you find something?” Kendra asked, walking over to look at it.
“Yeah. Nothing about the ghosts. This is going in the ol' collection, though.”
“I couldn't find anything of import myself. She did indicate that it was in a hidden vault, and this isn't anything of the sort.”
“Good point,” Buffy said as she looked around more carefully. Searching the walls she eventually found a hidden latch that caused a shelf to open up like something from a cheap mystery novel. Pulling the hidden door wide open they saw another evidence locker, this one containing only five items. “Jackpot!”
The first item was a hand axe, its edge stained with blood that appeared far too fresh to have spent fifty years in storage, which was marked as belonging to the Lopper. Beside it, indicated to be Father Charlatan's, was a fused together pile holy symbols, few of which Buffy could recognize, although she saw that they represented a dozen different faiths. The next item was a moldy and decrepit book that had been owned by the Splatter Man, which sat next to an old smith's hammer the Mosswater Marauder had used for his murder spree. The final item was a tarnished silver flute that had given the Piper of Illmarsh his name.
“I dunno. For freaky cursed items I was expecting something... more.”
“Most curses are not overly obvious,” Kendra said as she picked up the book, flipping through it curiously. “If they were, most people would be able to avoid them.”
“Or they could be like us,” Buffy answered as she grabbed the other items and tossed them in her bag of holding. “Dumb enough to take the stuff anyway. So, what is it?”
Kendra finished her perusal, beaming at her blonde friend as she closed the volume. “It's a spellbook. The Splatter Man was apparently a wizard, and with time I may be able to gain some insights from this tome.”
“Or, you know, a horrible curse.”
“Or a horrible curse, yes. Has anyone ever told you that you are good at reassuring people? Because if they did, they were better at it than you are.”
Buffy gave her an annoyed look, and the two retraced their steps to the entrance foyer.
“Where to now?” Kendra asked as they looked at their options. They had explored much of the area through the double doors opposite the entrance, and they had been everywhere the single door behind them led. That left the single door opposite them and the double doors next to them. With a shrug Buffy opened the double doors.
The room before them was revealed to be some form of auditorium, with row upon row of barely standing benches facing a raised stage protected by rusty iron bars. Opposite them was another set of double doors, to which they began to walk. Before they could make much progress, however, they felt a chill slowly creep over them. Before they were even halfway across the room their breath was visible in the air.
“What is this?” Buffy asked, shivering uncontrollably.
“I believe this is a cold spot,” Kendra said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “It's a form of haunt.”
Digging into her pack Buffy pulled out a haunt siphon. Grabbing the end, she gave it a sharp twist, and a golden glow filled the air. Green strands of energy flowed from all around them into the end of the siphon, until finally it dimmed, leaving the room warm once more. Looking at the siphon she was surprised to see that the tiny white vortex inside the glass now glowed a steady green.
“Excellent! That drained the haunt of its negative energies and trapped them within the siphon,” Kendra said as she examined the device. “It can only be used the once, but we shouldn't need to worry overmuch about the cold spot now.”
“Cool. Like Ghostbusters.”
“I suppose... whatever you are speaking of. Anyway, be careful with that. The energies it contains are very harmful. If you broke that vial you could hurt any living creature in the immediate area rather badly.”
“Really,” Buffy said, eyeing the siphon thoughtfully before putting back into her bag of holding.
The next room was also large, but was mostly open space with a handful of training dummies indicating what its purpose once had been. The far wall had collapsed, letting in fresh air and providing a view of the dark, murky pond outside. At the center of the room was a jagged hole in the floor surrounded by evidence of the fire that had destroyed the lower level of the prison. Standing at the edge of the hole they could see a large rubble filled room twenty feet below.
“Looks like a way down,” Buffy said thoughtfully.
“Indeed,” Kendra agreed. “However, I think that it would be for the best if we concluded our exploration of the upper levels before descending below.”
Before Buffy could reply she heard a sound behind her and felt a faint tingle over the general malaise being in the prison caused her spidey-senses. Spinning, she saw three skulls slowly lifting off of the ground as they began to burn, transforming into creatures of the same sort that had attacked the meeting the previous evening. Raising her short sword, Buffy moved between them and Kendra, ready to strike.
The first skull blazed toward her like a comet, fire trailing behind it as it flew only to be met by her sword which cleaved it in two causing its flames to sputter and die before the halves even hit the ground behind her. Before the other two could move, one was struck by a beam of whitish golden light that shot from Kendra's pointing index finger and caused the skull to stop burning and simply fall to the ground and lie still. The last circled for a moment, but Buffy moved with it, preventing it from reaching her friend, who was muttering a spell once again. The skull tried to charge once more, only to be struck by an identical beam of light, this one a glancing blow that staggered the skull but didn't slay it. It lasted for only another second, however, as Buffy followed up before it could recover, finishing it with a single slash.
“Nice spell,” Buffy said looking at the one Kendra had taken out on her own.
“Thank you. It was a cantrip that channels positive energies in a manner that causes great harm to the undead.” Looking around the room, for a moment, Kendra finally pointed at a door near the collapsed area. “I suppose if we aren't going to descend immediately, we will have to take that door.”
Before Buffy could reply her stomach rumbled. Blushing she looked out at the sun which was high overhead. “Is it that late already?”
Kendra chuckled and moved over to sit on some rubble near the damaged wall where the breeze kept away the stink of rot that pervaded most of the prison. “I'm not sure how you can be so hungry while surrounded by an army of enraged ghosts in a rotting prison, but I suppose we do need to keep our energies up.”
Buffy shrugged as she pulled two wrapped meals from her bag of holding. “Slaying works up the appetites... so definitely food time.” Author's Notes
Kendra uses a number of spells here. She used acid splash on a number of occasions, as well as disrupt undead, both of which are cantrips so she can do them as often as she desires. The spell she used to unlock the door was called knock. For the gaming buffs, in the source material Kendra is a level 2 diviner, but having helped deal with the hauntings in town, she is currently level 4.
This was a strange chapter to write, but I'm fairly happy with the outcome. This is the beginning of what is properly the 'dungeon crawl' of the Haunting of Harrowstone. It may be the investigation of a haunted house (prison), but in RPG terms it's still a dungeon crawl, which is very strange to write. I hope it came out alright.