You are at the front gate. It's an old gate, for sure. Slightly rusty, rickety, but still functional. You pull it open and slowly hike up the gravel pathway, the soft crunching beneath your feet echoing through the silence. There's something about this manor. Something otherworldy. Yet, you cannot place your finger on it. This particular manor was owned by a reclusive family, the Autre line. Some say they were part of a mysterious cult, others claim their heritage was cursed with insanity.
You're tempted to open the door.
Something's drawing you in.
Your hand is on the brass almost without thinking.
Somehow, you are inside.
