Shadow Mansion

The Fog Court lies in a maze of low hedges and blind fountains, where mists cradle every footprint for an hour before quietly forgetting them. Beyond it stretches the Hall of One Thousand Masks, a gallery of ever-shifting visages; choose one, and it clings warmly to your skin, granting you a ready-made alias within the Mansion’s walls. Hidden deeper is the Vault of Unnamed Keys, drawers filled with keys labeled in lies—each key will open a single lock once before falling inert, a trinket of broken promise.   The Ledger of Lies, a soot-bound codex, is Masech’s most prized relic. It does not record what has happened, but what others believe has happened, an ever-growing account of shadows mistaken for truth. Nearby glimmers the Blue-Glass Conservatory, where night-blooming gardens exhale poisons, antidotes, and sleeping scents, while the dark panes above dim at the barest whisper. For those who know the ways of servants, the Backstairs wind endlessly through chutes, hidden routes, and roof-walks—the safest passage through the Mansion, if one possesses the maid’s map. At the Mansion’s heart lies the Veil Chapel, where a black-velvet altar and mosaic eye preside over the rites of Veil’s Vigil and Twilight Whispers. And from the Coinwork Terrace, a mosaic balcony that leans into the void, coins are tossed to seal pacts—where, unnervingly often, their edges land upright in defiance of chance.  

Inhabitants

Masech himself is rarely seen yet always present, amused and lurking at the corner of one’s eye. His servant Idol, Erins The Silent Death, keeps the blades and sleeping-rooms in perfect order via his own servants.   The Mansion’s clergy, stewards, and archivists wear their masks without fail, and the Circle of the Gray Ribbon, those who have accomplished legendary jobs, sit as its honored elite. Shadar-kai, shades, and shadow dancers haunt the halls as resident hands, while dark ones and wandering shadows fill its crawlspaces. For more tangible services, Mezzofiend contractors drift through its fog. Even the décor is treacherous: shadow mastiffs pad silently across the lawns, while chairs and armoires are sometimes not what they seem.

The Mansion itself bends to Masech’s whims. The Daylight Clause ensures that a daylight spell collapses the fog, fixing the floorplan for a single scene—but in so doing alerts three separate security details. Whisper-drafts curl through the halls, carrying secrets; lean into the chill and eavesdropping grows easier. Footstep Fog remembers every gait it receives, allowing those who mimic another’s stride to unlock doors that respond only to the remembered rhythm. On the Coinwork Terrace, a fair flip lands on its edge one time in six, an omen known as Masech’s Choice. The Name-Thief Mirrors shave a letter from a mortal’s true name if they linger too long before the glass—a harmless loss until invoked in a ward or curse. Even the Silent Carpets play tricks: while you walk upon them, every sound within thirty feet hushes, but shout from the far end and the noise comes crashing back all at once.