#baronyofthesilverwolf

Takes out the key, and.. tries to unlock itt

As she reaches towards the lock...

She finds that her hand swerves away, and she's turned, as though to walk away.

Odd.

But Gwen is DETERMINED, and she pushes forward!

The key wants to go into the lock. They are one of a kind.

A soft click as the key slides into the lock, before it turns.

She turns it... annd tries to open

It opens smoothly, into a dark room before her. No windows, no light from within.

she takes out her phone and turns it to 'flash light' mode

Illumination! A room that is filled, but not cluttered. Bookshelves and side tables, cabinets and curious, a work desk. Cloths lay over much of the items within, shrouding them from view, keeping off dust and casual eyes. The floor is covered with rich, plush rugs, overlaid for a luxurious look. The walls are mostly bare, but for a large original painting - two hawks entwined in flight.

Antique style gas lamps are spread throughout the room to allow for focused light, though currently unlit.

"Well, pretty painting. Steady as she goes" She kens slowly and keeps ann eye out for ledgers. Methodical and steady should do it.. eventually,

There is only so much to be seen from the doorway, much within cabinets, under cloth. Kenning - oof. The room glows brightly, filled with treasures (and potentially Treasures) of glamourous or chimerical nature.

"Geez..." She opens the cabinets carefully

As she steps into the room, directly inside the doorway, she feels the rugs shift underfoot. A sinking feeling, literally, as they cave under her weight and she finds herself falling downward with no surface to stand on!

Well...this is terrifying.. She tries to spread her arms outt to the sides and catch herself at the edges of the.. hole?

Smooth sides, at least she can feel that, it's not an abyss, but a shaft - and it's only a few terrifying moments before she THUDS to the bottom.

"Shit" She looks around

Dark Darkness in the Dark. Stretching out her arms, she can touch the walls on either side - not quite close enough to brace on. She's not cramped, but neither is it spacious, about the area of a small rug. Which, coincidentally, is the only other thing down here other than what she brought with her. A flicker of glamour, possibly an alarm going off, but who will get the alert?

"Lovely" She curses, wonderin if her phone fell with her? Then an idea, she touches the wall and chants "Mother Earth, Mother Earth, help me learn"

She can see a glimmer of light above her - the phone is still on flashlight mode - on the floor of the chamber overhead.

She feels something nearby, and keeps chanting as she reaches for it, is that? Oh her spear

A hand on the wall, as she gathers energy. She is deep in the hold now, but the walls aren't exactly earth, still tiled over. This is clearly not an accidental fall - not that she had any doubt of that - in fact, the tiles seem specifically made to smooth the walls against climbing out. A particularly sticky Sluagh might manage it...

Her spear in her other hand, braced against the floor, gives her a feeling of solidity in the dark chamber. Chanting, making her bunk for the Whisper, but then the glamour shifts - running through her center, and to her other hand, where the spear is!

A voice she hears, not quite a whisper, but a faint echo, inside her own head. Who would speak to the Mother of all? The feathers on the spear wave as if in an unseen breeze.

this not a willowwhispher this is... something, someonne else holy crap, it's mother earth? "I , Gladiola, called Gwen, and with names I have forgotten as well. I am of Iraquois, and Cherokee, and more. Forgive my arrogance mother, but I need help and knowledge and am sorely out of my depth. My hope to help others has caused me to be in need of help myself. I do not regret my desire to help, merely wish I were more cautious. Can you guide me out?"

A shimmer of energy, a soft laughter. It's glamour, but unlike other cantrips she's felt before. It's new, and yet, old and familiar.

I am not the mother, but I am a mother. You are a child of the Earth, a child of man, and a child of the spirits of dream. Thunderbird knows you, I know you. Your spear was once my own, in a previous life, and now is one with you. You remember and respect the old ways, even as you learn the new. I will guide you.

The spear, the connection to ancestor spirits, seem intertwined as one. Her treasured Spear is a Treasure indeed!

"Thank you, " Still in wonder, but blushing "I hope to be less foolish when I'm older, or at least hide it better. Guide away, Mother from another life" This is NOT Willow Whisper, she's not sure what it is, but it feels natural

You are deep within the earth, but you are not trapped. Be a seed, and stretch forth. Through clay and rock, through soil and stone, strive to the sun. Let your spear be your sister, as Corn supports Bean.

Gwen realizes as she looks above that the shaft is not very deep. Twelve feet perhaps - when she stretches, her fingertips are juuuuust a few inches shy of the edge. She can jump to try to catch the edge,, but has not the leverage to pull herself out - but if she can just jimmy her spear between a few of the tiles and use it for leverage, she might be able to get over the edge!

She takes her spear in firm grip and goes up, or tries to, back aainst one side, spear butt against the other, she can click clack her way up. She's heavy, but she's strong "I must remember to spread sage or corn in your honor tonight."

Another spear she might worry would crack or snap under her weight, but her spear is strong and stable.

A heave, and she finds that she is over the edge! A moment of scrabbling as the rugs threaten to slip under her, but she stabilizes and can draw up the spear behind her as well. No treasure left behind.

"Whew... thank you , Mother of what was, I don't understannd how I called you, but I am glad you answered"

A warm feeling of recognition, and the glamour fades.

Back on solid ground, Gwen can see that there is a hidden catch... flipped, the floor closes up again, as solid as ever. She had the key, but apparently something else was in play.

"I hate calanthe" She mutters

Knowing WHERE it openns, this time she tries again

Once closed, the floor seems solid again. Even a stomp on the area is firm and unyielding. Still, she can step around it easily. Now, the cabinets are within reach. A china hutch filled with curios, or perhaps equipment for bunks and cantrips. Feathers and quills, blank scrolls, a polished crystal, a small jar of salt.

On this shelf, books, chimerical names on the covers, overwriting the boring mundane titles, thus hidden from mortals.

She makes a note of he curious and such, but mostly she looks for ledgers, and yes she scans over the books, taking out herr gloves just in case pysho bitch has contact poison

Arsenic is most common and effective, Something in her memories tells her. Hard to trace, and it can build up over time.

A frown at herself, and she chastises herself LEDGER , MFer... do you SEEK it?

These books however show the sign of being well read and she catches no hint of any scent to indicate a chemical, no traces or markings on the covers or pages to indicate treatment.

The books are not numerous, but there is a shelf full - higher level grimoires which discuss the practical applications of cantrips. Not very useful to lower levels, it takes a certain expertise to even understand.

Onward to a cabinet that has a small lock on it - this one just a mortal style one... and not even locked. Perhaps the door was enough for confidence in safety. Within - folders, and files!

She takes the folders and files out carefully

Ah, and a set of keys, hung on a small hook just inside the drawer. This one a mundane style, chunky, the style for a commercial building, and a car key, an expensive sporty model.

Paperwork - records from the mews, trades, sales, health and breeding for the falcons.

Receipts, and accounting - ah, here, lists of the mortals hired to take on work around the hold, and her notes - enchantment not necessary for one, fuddle once inside the grounds for another, that's Calanthe's precise handwriting.

Here, a list of vendors that the Manor works with, a rolodex of names, contact details - some sound like Fae monikers or companies.

She gathers it up, the keys, the folders, and stteps out to find Julius..and TRY to avoid a hole on the way out. She hopes to lock the door behind her

The trapdoor has reclosed smoothly. It seems secure now...

Julius is in his office, on the phone. "No, of course I have the account number, it's just... give me a moment." Leaning over to flip through pages, and he finds it. "Yes, it should be automatically... no? I see. I'll fax over the new account number. Right away." A sigh, and he hangs up.