Heather House
Heather House stands like a sentinel upon the mist-wreathed cliffs that watch over Mordentshire’s gray harbor. An elegant, brooding manor of ashwood and stone, it has long served as the ancestral seat of the Weathermay family, a name spoken with reverence in the town—even as whispers follow the deeds of certain more adventurous kin.
Though rarely ostentatious, Heather House bears the clear mark of its mistress. Alice Weathermay—a woman of sharp intellect, sharper tongue, and unwavering integrity—has made the house not only a home, but a symbol of resilience and leadership.
- Her private study is a war room of paperwork, with town ledgers, letters from every part of Mordent, and petitions stacked neatly in trays.
- An antique rapier—once wielded by a storied Weathermay ancestor—is mounted above the fireplace, still oiled and battle-ready.
Alice is said to take tea each morning on the terrace, regardless of weather, overlooking the sea and the town for which she has given so much.
Though Heather House is no haunted ruin, it carries the imprint of a family touched by the supernatural.
- Some say the parlor clock chimes at midnight even when unwound, and that it only does so on the anniversaries of deaths and departures.
- Servants have spoken of books reshelving themselves, and of voices on the wind calling from the fireplace when storms rage.
- The crypt beneath the estate is warded with silver and runes known only to the family and is never opened without cause.
Heather House is a place of poise, memory, and quiet strength—a lighthouse not just for ships at sea, but for the people of Mordentshire, who know that as long as the Weathermays keep watch, their town is not entirely alone in the mists.
Architecture
Heather House is three stories tall, its steeply pitched roofs and tall, narrow windows giving it a windswept, gothic grandeur. Turrets and gables rise like watchful eyes over the sea, and slate tiles clatter mournfully in the wind.
- Its ivy-choked façade softens the building’s solemnity with splashes of green and purple when in bloom.
- The front garden, once formally kept, now grows a bit wild—lavender, heather, and sea-thistle jostling freely in the salt air.
- An iron fence, shaped with wind motifs and rose briars, surrounds the property and bears no lock—but never swings open without invitation.
To the rear, a cliffside terrace offers sweeping views of the sea and the town below. A crumbling stone archway, long rumored to be built atop a warded standing stone, frames the path to a hidden family crypt, rarely mentioned.
The manor’s interior is one of stately quietude, filled with fine but unfashionable furnishings, carefully maintained despite their age. Dark wood paneling, tall bookshelves, and faded but immaculate carpets speak to generations of educated restraint.
- A large hearth, blackened from generations of use, dominates the great hall, where portraits of Weathermay ancestors brood in heavy gilt frames.
- The library is the heart of the house, where Alice keeps tomes on local folklore, family journals, and natural philosophy, as well as a locked cabinet of volumes on monster lore, inherited from her more daring relatives.
- Windows are tall and narrow, fitted with wavy, imperfect glass that casts watery shadows on the floors and walls.
Despite the age of the house, no dust lingers, and every candlestick and curtain is meticulously placed—Alice Weathermay’s standards of order and dignity are legendary in Mordentshire.
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