Ari has actually nothing to do with this mansion, so the plaque was probably referring to the people who actually lived here - would be be K and his contingent. Regardless, the scratches on the piano-leg were very definitely some sort of message. It appeared that the leg had been repainted several times to try and hide the damage, but the message had been re-scrawled each and every time. It was one word, and only one word: "Why".
Underneath the message, there was a crack in one of the legs, into which a small note was stuck, tightly rolled. Unrolling it showed a picture of a young man in a waistcoat, with long hair tied back into a ribbon, and a line around his throat. The paper was also home to the same question as the piano leg. "Why?".
Just as the Belfry Bats were gathered close together to examine the paper, the scratch, and the base of the piano... the air grew very quiet, very still. The sounds of the young man across the way drinking from his glass, the birds outside, the quiet swish of curtains blown by the wind - it all disappeared. The stage started to grow dark, like someone had turned out the lights.
If the Belfry Bats noticed these changes, and stood up to look around, they would notice a shape in the distance - toward where the young man at the bar had been. It was a vaguely human-ish shape, but it did not move, did not blink, did not shift weight around as it should. Ten, maybe twenty heartbeats passed - the darkness grew deeper.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the shape simultaneously started to scream a terrible, horrid, ear-piercing, nails-on-chalkboard type screech and fly at them with preternatural speed. Whichever Bat was at the front of the stage got a full eyeful, as the figure crossed the distance in the space of a breath, face stretched horrifically into a mask of anger, wide-open mouth like a portal to the abyss, eyes dark holes with no semblance of light. The hair stood out in wild spikes, as if blown by non-existent wind, the clothing ripped, torn, and the skin white as the pale moon. Around its neck was a black shape, a collar of rope. The figure screamed in a bitter, anguished voice - echoing throughout the silent room like a thunderclap or a gunshot.
WHY! WHY! WHY! WHY! WHY! WHY!
Then vanished into smoke and nothingness as if it had never been. As it went, it took the darkness with it... and the scratch. Whichever of the team had the terrifying encounter was now the proud owner of a migraine that started behind the eyes, and penetrated the entire skull - an intense throbbing of pain. The Bats were left holding a shredded scrap of parchment where there had once been a drawing - and a silver key with the likeness of an eagle as the top.
YOU MAY
- Return to examining the piano
- Talk to the man at the bar
- Try to find something for the headache
- Go somewhere else [The Garden, The Kitchen, Upstairs, or the Living Room]