Smuggling in Larksley Manor

Sorry for the delays folks.  This makes two days that I have been dealing with extreme writers block, and today’s post is now quite late in the day.  While I will try to write a double post to make up for missing yesterday’s, the truth is that I anticipate another change of topic shortly.  So let me get back on to my train of thought, and detail the villains of the mansion.

Baron Larksley’s manor is in England, and services smugglers.  If the PCs start inquiring really closely, then the Mansion is near the North Sea coast, about 10 miles in from the coast, located on a natural underground inlet.  Smugglers make this run all of the time, mostly using row boats.  This age does indeed have motors for ships, but size is at a premium, and so large vessels would never dare chance this inlet.  The DM should resist getting more specific, except to mention that the main roads through the region (south to London) come nowhere near the Mansion. 

There is a tiny village, call it Gulliton, which is less than a hundred citizens, all of whom are connected criminally to this smuggling operation.  The villagers should begin suspicious of the PCs, mainly because they are either Constables or victims associated with constables.  The men are all very familiar with the region, and at a high DC (25?) they should be willing to share that information.  None will willingly incriminate themselves or their families, and will only reveal the history if they are confronted directly with the Mansion, and Baron Larksley, and the frightening things within the Mansion. 

One last thought: they are criminal, willing to engage in contraband smuggling and willing to risk and profit by it, but they should be terrified of all of the strange, British would say “queer” things haunting the night.  There should be missing persons from among their neighbors, distant wolf howls, periodic discoveries of human remains, the oft-repeated ungodly smell, but only when the wind picks it up, and a deep uneasiness that the Larksley house has broken all contact with them.

On to the smuggling plan: Gulliton sits on the coast, on a short sandy beach, PC’s sailing up and down the coast should find rocky cliffs on either side.  If they attempt to row any further out than Gulliton, the PCs should be shipwrecked by a North Sea storm, which I understand to be completely plausible in the region. 

The smugglers would sail into an inlet, which looks craggy and rocky from the sea.  The navy passes these crags frequently, and knows nothing beyond them.  The PCs should find a narrow, maybe as narrow as 10 ft opening in the rock that cuts to one side, preventing the PCs from looking straight through.  As they clear the narrows, they should find a passage to opens out to 15 feet on either side, wide enough for most rowboats to pass, but they will have to be careful rowing, even at a deeper angle.  Ships would travel the gently winding passage, in complete darkness with no more than 30 feet clearance (12 feet underwater, 18 feet above), for about 10 miles (16 km) until the passage opens out in front of them.  This room should have a ceiling at about 50 feet above, and at least 20 feet underwater.  The PCs should find ample room to maneuver, with maybe 100 feet squared of rowing room, not counting 10 feet of “beach” sand running into the water at a 20 degree angle.  A hardwood dock runs from the beach and out about 10 feet into the chasm, creating an underground harbor.  The air should smell salty, but there should be no wind entering the chamber, leaving it a little stale.

The smugglers would haul their cargo onto this beach, then place each piece onto a chain elevator, a kind of dumb waiter that elevates the cargo, but only when up to three men are turning a horizontal crank shaft that stands about 15 feet from the elevator.  The turn crank consists of a large circular cut piece that is mounted to an axel imbedded in the ground, into sheer rock with all of the sand cleared away.  This circular piece in turn has three pillars, each with a handle, and those pillars are bound by another circular piece at the top, above 7 feet.  That piece is bolted into gear set (just like my bicycle), except the chain that runs on it is mighty thick and heavy.  This puts the chain 8 feet off of the ground, away from fouling the three men stooped to push the handles.  This entire shaft design pulls tight the chains connected to the chain elevator, and can raise and lower the elevator entirely as the team operating it desires.

This entire contraption moves the cargo up to the main basement, where the victims are now kept.  By the time the PCs arrive, there is a master lock disabling the device, with the key predictably in the possession of Baron Larksley.  A ladder and trap door also provides more conventional access to humans, also locked.  The elevator will hold up to 100 pounds of cargo, but fully equipped PCs should find elevator rides only go one way, providing if anything a reflex save to grab the basement floor and avoid falling with the elevator.  The ladder is rated for fully equipped smugglers, and the PCs should find it useful right up to heavy load encumbrance. 

The smugglers would have planned to move the cargo out through the large double doors in wheel barrows, loading them onto carts for transport elsewhere.  Dozens of misleading labels should be scattered throughout the basement, from flour bags, coffins, empty luggage bags, false bottomed flower pots, to whatever else the DM can think of.  The double doors should be obvious from the inside, but from the outside, they should blend into the wall, with a DC to search the wall of 15 to reveal that it is disguised.  The doors should also have an awkward weight, as I am thinking that they have fake stone panels imitating stonework on the outside.

The rest of the Manor should reflect the requirements of a Baron’s privacy.  Live-in quarters for the servants on the first floor, a small field and garden for growing a small amount of food (now overgrown), large entertaining rooms such as a dining room, sitting room, powder room, and a few traditional showcases, such as family heirlooms, weapons, or just odd knick knacks.  The kitchen would be on the first floor, while the master’s chamber would be on the second floor.  We could split the entertaining rooms, putting the dining room on the main floor and the sitting room above, perhaps with a library with fireplace.  A first floor room could defensibly be used for spinning and weaving, crafts that a nineteenth century gentleman could still have been supporting at least in his servants.  So far, that leaves the building bigger on the ground floor than the second, but that at least can work architecturally (as opposed to the other way around). 

That’s all that I can think of right now.  I leave this for now, as I have now met the double post length that I set out to achieve.  I can’t be sure what tomorrow will bring, as this idea is getting harder and harder to focus on.  Sing muse, sing.  Muse says sure, but not about this project!