Guild Quest Day 1 - The Step that Creaked at the Wrong Time
Guild: Double D's .

Day 1: “The Step That Creaked at the Wrong Time”

Oh man, here I am, John the skeptical pilot, dragged into this so-called “girls' trip” to some creepy old house in the middle of nowhere for a holiday getaway. Julie, my ever-optimistic bestie, swore it'd be relaxing—beaches by day, wine by night—but nope, we're in this dusty mansion that looks like it auditioned for a horror flick and got the lead role. Tara, Laura, and Lala are giggling like schoolgirls as we unpack, but I'm rolling my eyes harder than a bad landing in turbulence. “This place is probably haunted by unpaid bills,” I snark, but then we hear a creak from the floorboards, and curiosity kills the cat—or in this case, leads us to a hidden basement door. Julie yanks it open, and down we go, flashlights in hand, because why not tempt fate on vacation?

The basement is a total time capsule of neglect: cobwebs like party streamers gone wrong, air thick enough to chew, and this eerie silence that makes you question your life choices. We're poking around any room that doesn't scream “tetanus shot required,” and that's when I spot it—a set of solid gold puzzle-style tiles scattered on an ancient stone step that looks older than my grandma's fruitcake recipe. The step creaks under my foot at the absolute worst moment, like it's judging me for being here, or worse for being a few pounds overweight. “Great, now the house is talking back,” I mutter sarcastically, but the girls are oohing and aahing. Tara picks one up, saying it feels warm, like it's pulsing with secrets. Why does this object remember more than it should? Probably because it's hoarding stolen memories of every idiot who's ever tripped over it, including the original owners who clearly had a puzzle addiction. Laura jokes it's a map to buried treasure, but I'm thinking it's just fool's gold for fools like us. Lala snaps a pic, and we all laugh nervously—spooky vibes aside, this trip has just gotten interesting.

As we climb back up, the creak echoes again, unprompted. “See? The house hates tourists,” I quip, but deep down, even my pilot's logic is cracking a bit. Julie high-fives me, calling it our first “basement badge of honor.” Fine, whatever—tomorrow's another day to debunk this nonsense.

  Jour 1 La marche qui a craqué au mauvais moment
Guilde To the Manor Born
Betty dormait c’était le milieu de la nuit un bruit étrange venait de la réveiller un bruit qui fait peur. Betty se leva et s’approcha de la fenêtre de sa chambre elle pensait que le bruit venait de dehors soudain elle entendu encore le même bruit elle savait maintenant que ça venait du sous-sol elle voulu aller voir mais hésita un instant elle était très curieuse mais elle n’osa pas se bruit étrange faisait trop peur elle prit son courage à deux main et descendit au sous-sol le bruit venais de la chaufferie c’était la fournaise qui faisait un vacarme  épouvantable elle décida de la fermer et de retourner se coucher Betty se dit demain je vais appeler pour la faire réparer.
Merci 🥰

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Mamie code 667a2c

Day 2: "The Object That Shouldn't Be"

Feeling bold after our first discovery, I rallied the troops back down to the basement the next day, flashlights and snacks in hand—because exploring on an empty stomach is just dumb. "Let's find the oddball artifact," I announced, my echo making it sound official. We split up: Laura and Lala hit the shelves, John and Julie took corners, and I wandered the dim rooms. John yelped first, waving this shiny cameo of Alexander the Great as if he'd won the lottery. "Tara, this thing's museum-grade—gold rim, smug face, totally out of place in this junk pile!" It gleamed strangely amid the rust, like it'd time-traveled here by mistake.

"How did this object end up here?" Lala wondered, flipping it over. I grabbed it, feeling its weight, and spun a tale: "Legend says Alex lost it conquering some ancient party—hearts, not empires." Julie winked at me, adding, "Bet the house stole it from a thief owner." But those eyes on the cameo followed us, like Alex was sizing up our crew. "Thinks we're conquest amateurs," Laura laughed, but the air thickened, as if the basement was jealous of this fancy intruder.

By evening, we'd debated it into the ground—was it cursed loot or flea market fake? “If it starts giving war tips, I'm bouncing,” John deadpanned. I pocketed it for “research,” but deep down, I sensed the basement mocking us with this historical curveball, urging me to discover more.

Отредактировано Tara 031cde (2026-02-02 01:15:19)

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Tara 🇺🇸 031cde
Guild: Double D’s

Guild Quest. Day 2. The Objective That Shouldn't Be!
Guild:  Double D’s

Day 2: "The Object That Shouldn't Be"

Back at it again, folks—John here, still questioning why I'm basement-diving instead of flying jets. Last night's puzzle tiles kept us chatting; Tara spun some yarn about them being cursed relics from a lost civilization, while Laura countered with "or maybe just rich people's discarded Monopoly pieces." We all crashed laughing, but this morning, the house feels... off. The ground floor's all sunny and lived-in, but the basement? It's like descending into the house's grumpy subconscious. Julie leads the charge, declaring it our "holiday adventure", and Lala's packing snacks like we're on a spelunking tour. Me? I'm armed with sarcasm: "If we find a minotaur, I'm out—pilots don't do mazes."

We split up in the dimly lit rooms—safety first, right?—and I'm rummaging through dusty shelves when I spot this ancient, expensive-looking smoking pipe, all ornate silver and strange engravings, totally out of place amid the rusty tools and forgotten junk. It's like finding a Rolex in a dumpster. "Hey, gang! Come see what Grandpa Time Traveler left behind," I yell, and they crowd around. How did this object end up here? Legend has it (or at least the one I'm making up on the spot) that some eccentric Victorian dude, probably a bootlegger or a wannabe Sherlock, stashed it during a Prohibition party went wrong.

The house swallowed it up, jealous of its shine, and now it's lurking like a snobby ghost accessory. Tara pretends to puff on it, coughing dramatically, while Laura snarks, "Bet it belonged to the house's ex—too fancy for this dump." Lala adds it's probably haunted by tobacco spirits, and we all crack up, but then a chill breeze from out of nowhere whistles through, making the pipe feel heavier in my hand. Spooky? Nah, just bad ventilation... or so I tell myself.

We wrap up with more laughs, but as we head upstairs, I swear I smell faint pipe smoke. "House is toying with us," I mutter. Julie grins: "Or inviting us back." Great, can't wait for tomorrow’s circus show.