Staying in the Manor

Glancing around, you shrugged. “You know? I’m, uh- I think I’ll stay.”

I mean, Frankenstien only took parts from dead people, right? That would rule you out as a candidate for any impromptu organ harvesting! Did you really have anything to be afraid of? 

Slightly more assured thanks to that logic, you followed your host through the manor- down a tight spiral staircase that seemed that it would never end, the stone steps worn in the middle from generations stepping on the same spots. Ygor, ever accommodating, gently shoved you to the side to get at the heavy metal door at the landing, throwing it open!

One look at your sordid excuse for accommodations, and going out donation hunting started to sound pretty good. 

To your new friend, these sordid conditions were just peachy, evident by how proudly he showed you around. “Ooh, you can even sleep in Ygor’s bed!” He gestured to the dirty pillow sloppily thrown in the corner like he was showing you to your king bed at the Ritz Carlton. “Very good for the back, no?” Cocking your head, you blinked at the crooked angle of his spine as he turned to tend to grab a dented metal bucket from the counter. 

For fear of contracting whatever may live on those surfaces, you kept your distance from everything, muttering your thanks as you wondered just exactly what your host would do with all the strange machinery. Bathed in the glow of the humming chest freezer, Ygor picked out a few rotting, choice cuts from many, plopping them into the bucket with a meaty thwack. 

Your new friend staggered over to a mysterious door at the other end of the room. With this, the thought occurred to you that you very well might be left alone in this cesspool. Now, that would be a good opportunity for that doctor lady to get her hands on your organs… Ducking underneeth some hanging electrical machinery, you followed on his heels. “Hey! Where’re you goin’-?”

Grabbing a flashlight off of a counter, he shrugged like he was letting you know he was heading to the store. “The catacombs.” Isn’t Paris the only place that has catacombs? Pushing open the heavy door with effort, he must’ve sensed your confusion, because Ygor paused with an incredulous sigh, “You know, the catacombs? The catacombs that run underneath Darkmoor…?” 

Given that your business in Darkmoor was generally terrestrial, no, you didn't. You sputtered, “Is this just…Does everybody know about this?” Clearly in a hurry, Ygor rounded the corner with his bucket, too preoccupied with whatever may be waiting in those catacombs to chat further…

What do You Do?