Shadows Over Blackwood

The relentless, freezing rain soaks right through the heavy wool of your coat, a bitter chill that serves as a grim welcome to the sprawling, ivy-choked grounds of Blackwood Manor. Above you, jagged flashes of lightning tear through the dense cloud cover, illuminating the towering gothic spires of an estate you were warned never to approach. The courtyard before you is a tangled, chaotic maze of dead rosebushes, cracked marble statues, and shadowed alcoves hiding things that silently watch from the dark. Every draft of wind spilling out from the manor's half-open front doors carries the scent of damp earth, burning wax, and the sharp, undeniable copper tang of freshly spilled blood. Suddenly, the oppressive silence of the grounds is shattered by a terrifying, inhuman shriek from the upper floors, casting a single high window in a sickly, flickering yellow light. A pack of monstrous, undead hounds spills out from the adjacent carriage house, their jaws slavering and their glowing eyes scanning the darkness for a fresh scent. Whether they’re tracking the stolen ancestral grimoire currently burning a hole in your satchel, or hunting down whatever poor soul was just screaming inside, standing in the open seems like a terrible idea. The overgrown crypts at the edge of the property beckon just a few yards away, offering a dozen dark tombs to disappear into—if you move fast enough.

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