Chanting.
Endless, echoing, impossible chanting.

From the moment the party awoke in the bowels of Durst Manor, the sound pressed against their skulls — no words, just a relentless, rhythmic pulse reverberating through stone and bone alike. Whatever ritual lay below, it was calling to them.

And tonight, the house would demand its price.

A Dungeon That Sleeps Lightly

This sixth session opened in true Death House fashion — with chaos, kids wrangling iPads, someone joking about an Ouija board, and a general sense that everyone felt the weight of the finale approaching.

The players reassembled, checked their sheets, compared spell slots, and tried to decipher where exactly they left off.

They had just:

• Freed the spirits of Rose and Thorn,
• Carried baby Walter down into the crypts,
• And split the party in a moment of boldness, optimism… or madness.

The Party Divide

• Doc & Keyleth slept in the mimic chamber and headed west toward the mysterious statue room.
• Maple, Raven, Kiril and Zartkoth explored the cultist quarters east and north, searching for their friends and any sign of an exit.

But splitting the party comes with risks — and Death House is excellent at punishing them.

The Chant Tightens Its Grip

As the eastern group bedded down for the night, the chanting swelled. It threaded itself through their dreams, clawing at their thoughts, demanding attention, demanding obedience.

When they awoke?

Failed Constitution saving throws meant that two members were shaking, pale, and utterly drained.

“The chanting just got into your brain… you both gain one level of exhaustion.”

Mechanics and horror aligned beautifully.
The house wasn’t just alive — it was wearing them down.

Searching the Halls Alone

Meanwhile, Doc and Keyleth stirred in the cold, dusty skeleton chamber. The dim lantern light cast long shadows against walls carved with crypt niches, and cruelly, the chanting was even louder here.

They called for their friends.

Voices echoed back — but not the right voices.

They heard sounds from both directions, bouncing and warping through the tunnels.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Is someone there?”

The house wanted them lost.

Maple and the Statue That Watches

Maple, ever curious and ever doomed by his curiosity, approached a statue they’d seen before — a robed figure clutching a crystal orb. The wolf-like engravings along its pedestal seemed carved with unsettling precision.

And then:

“You get the sense the eyes are following you.”
Maple circled the statue once.
Then again.
Then a third time.

He checked it for magic. Checked it for traps. Checked it for historical relevance. Nothing concrete… just the overwhelming gut feeling of being watched.

And naturally, because Maple cannot resist shiny objects…

He grabbed the orb.

Shadows From the Walls

The air went still.

The torches dimmed.

And from the five carved reliefs along the wall, five shadows peeled themselves free, whispering, convulsing, warping into half-formed humanoid silhouettes.

Skeletons lurched to life beneath them, joints cracking, rusted weapons dragging.

The orb pulsed once in Maple’s hand.

“Dark shadows emerge from the corpses… five shadows along the wall.”

Combat exploded instantly.

The Highlights

• Maple, panicking, attempted a dramatic 360° spin before casting Ice Knife — only to be gently reminded that a 360° spin brings you back to where you started.
• Doc went full barbarian, smashing bones to powder.

This wasn’t just a random fight — it was a full-on warning from the house:

“Turn back.”

To the East: A Ghoul Awakens

While Maple’s statue incident unfolded, the other group disturbed something else entirely.

The earth beneath the hallway began to boil. Fingers broke through the soil. A pale, rotting corpse dragged itself upright, jaw distending into an unnatural grin.

“The body suddenly stands up — roll initiative.”

Then another.
And another.

The Battle in the Narrow Hall

The cramped corridor turned the ghoul pack into a brutal close-quarters ambush.

• Fluffy the dog bravely leapt into the fray… and missed nearly every bite, bless him.
• Zarkoth unleashed Thunderclap, rattling the stone and staggering two ghouls at once.
• Raven again delivered with Eldritch Blast — reliable, deadly, efficient.
• Doc’s rage was a wall between the casters and the undead claws.

The party held formation beautifully — a tactical evolution from earlier sessions.

But the chanting never stopped.
Never softened.
Never let them breathe.

Reunion in the Dark

After two separate battles in two separate wings of the dungeon, the two halves of the party finally found one another. Their reunion was cautious, relieved, and overshadowed by the dungeon’s increasing hostility.

The chanting had grown clearer.
Still unintelligible, but now undeniably ritualistic.

All paths, all horrors, all secrets were funneling them downward.

Toward the ritual chamber.

A Moment to Breathe (But Only a Moment)

The party regrouped, assessed wounds, gathered fallen loot, and shared what they’d each encountered:

• Doc and Keyleth’s mimic
• Maple’s cursed statue
• The ghoul ambush
• The oppressive chanting
• The deepening sense of being watched

They know the end is near.

The final room.
The final ritual.
The final demand.

One Must Die.

The house still waits.

Next session?
Everything comes to a head.