GM Haladir's I6: Castle Ravenloft (Inactive)

Game Master Haladir

Campaign site on Obsidian Portal

Player maps:

Castle Ravenloft (main floor)
Castle Ravenloft (third floor)
Castle Ravenloft (fourth floor)
Castle Ravenloft (fifth & sixth floors) <---Party Location

Castle Ravenloft Exteriors

Map: Village of Barovia

PC Status
Countessa hp 33/38; 2 Hero Points
Damion hp 37/58; 2 Hero Points
Petracleus hp 32/45; 2 Hero Points
Theodora hp 58/58; 2 hero Points
Verran hp 22/36; 2 Hero Points

Party NPC Status
Celowyn hp 36/47
Ireena hp 20/49

Active Buffs: none


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Your humble narrator

Prologue

Lightning flashes across the black sky, briefly illuminating the circle of brightly-colored, yet run-down wagons. Rain pours down on the encampment, deepening the gloom. In one of the wagons, the light of an oil lamp seeps out of canvas shades over the windows, indicating someone is still awake.

Inside the wagon, an ancient Varisian woman sits at a felt-covered table, hands waving over a crystal ball, muttering her thoughts aloud to herself. "Yes. Yes. They are coming. They are coming. The lord of the castle calls them, and they come, even if they do not yet know it. And who are these newcomers who will arrive yet never leave? Time will tell. And what will they be doing? What do the cards tell us...?"

She asks herself a question, then turns over a card.

Spoiler:
Card #1
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 1
ethic: 1d3 ⇒ 2
moral: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Card#2
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 4
ethic: 1d3 ⇒ 3
moral: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Card#3
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 2
ethic: 1d3 ⇒ 3
moral: 1d3 ⇒ 2

Card#4
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 3
ethic: 1d3 ⇒ 3
moral: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Card#5
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 1
ethic: 1d3 ⇒ 3
moral: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Card#6
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 6
ethic: 1d3 ⇒ 2
moral: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Card#7
mystery roll: 1d6 ⇒ 3
Suit: 1d6 ⇒ 1
ethic: 1d3 ⇒ 1
moral: 1d3 ⇒ 2

"The tool they want... The Foreigh Trader, crossed by...The Snakebite."

"The weapon they need...The Fiend, crossed by... The Cyclone."

"The knowledge they seek... The Liar."

"And the Lord of the Castle... The Theater, crossed by... The Waxworks."

She studies the cards for several minutes, as she curls her lip in a wicked smile. "Yes! Yes! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" She cackles loudly to herself, as another crash of thunder drowns out the sound.


Your humble narrator

Toilday, 7 Gozran 4709, early evening

It was hard to see the mountain road through the rain and fog, especially as the light left the sky. What had started out as a sunny and breezy spring day turned steadily worse after noon. Clouds rolled in, changing the sky from blue with puffy white clouds to a bleak slate gray. And then the rain started: first a light drizzle, then a steady, soaking rain. But such are the whims of Gozreh.

Six cold, wet, and tired horses bearing six cold, wet, and tired travelers trudged along the road in the deepening gloom. They had not seen any other travelers on this lonely road through the eastern range of the Hungry Mountains. The map called this branch of the range the Svalich Peaks. What drove the travelers on was the map's promise of an inn not much farther ahead. A flash in the sky followed a moment later by a roll of distant thunder disheartened the sodden travelers, yet hope returned at the sight of a stone marker on the trail: "Brathlewhyte."

The road widened as it leveled off, the muddy track giving way to cobblestones. The travelers found themselves in a small mountain village of perhaps a score of buildings. Most were stone cottages with quaint thatched roofs. Two buildings were larger: one a church or meeting-house, with the symbol of Old Deadeye painted above the door. The other was well-lit, with the sounds of life emerging from it. A welcome sight: an inn. The placard over the door depicted an inviting mug of ale.

To a party of seasoned adventurers such as yourselves, this is but another dull tavern in another dull village in some nameless backwater. Another passage of time between the challenges of adventuring.

The barkeep notices six strangers enter, and calls to you in a friendly manner. A matronly serving wench points you to a table and asks if you're here for the night. Answering in the affirmative, she sends a stable boy to attend your horses, who leads them into a nearby barn.

Outside the inn, the fog lies thick over the village, draping everything in its clammy grasp. The cold rain and fog chills the bones and shivers the souls of anyone outside. Yet, inside these tavern walls, the food is hearty and the and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth, and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk. After four days of traveling from the wretched wart of a city that is Carrion Hill, you finally relax by the warmth of the fire with a mug of ale as you dry ourselves and wait for a hot meal to be served.


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

Merick sits down at the table with his companions, shoulders visibly sagging after the long trek. He pulls off his boots, setting them closer to the fire as the group awaits someone to bring them a drink and a bite to eat. His gauntlets are removed, and he runs a large hand through his hair, frustration evident. They had saved those children, but many would suffer through the rest of their days.

Yet another nightmare to endure for the sturdy fighter. His work of putting down the undead had brought him face to face with many disgusting pieces of work, but never before had his vocation brought him such misery. He could almost wish they had found the children dead instead of doomed to live such as they were. The warrior sighs, looking at his companions.

"Do we hole up until the rain passes, or what?"


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

"I should think," Countessa replies, wringing her hair. "No sense to be miserable." She, too, was haunted by their most recent mission. Though they had succeeded, she still counted it among her failures. The necromancer had been defeated, but at what cost?

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

Aymehn rings the cold rain from his sopping hide armor. He rubs his beard and closes his eyes.

I wonder how much longer this rain will pelt us.

Survival: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (7) + 14 = 21

After checking the sky, Aymehn bends down to pick up a particularly smooth stone from under the downspout. He secures the stone in a pouch and heads inside.

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

"A few cups and a proper meal would be good for us all."


Damion gratefully slides off his horse and scowls at the village. Why does this place exist? What possible reason could anyone have for living in a mudhole like this?" he asks scathingly as he ties his horse to the hitching rail and gives himself a quick shake to get rid of the droplets of water clinging to him. And who would have thought I would grow to miss the slums? He wonders to himself as he stomps through the mud puddles towards the inn.

To Merick's question he answers grumpily, "It depends on how long it keeps raining... and how much ale they have."


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

"Come now Merick, this place is a far better prospect than a night beneath stars that hide behind the rainclouds. There is nothing better than ale, a hot meal and, if I may be so bold, a little music to lift your soul"

Setting his ale to one side, Petracleus unwraps the oilskin package that he carried into the inn - with a degree of reverence, he runs his fingers over the cherrywood surface of his violin...sitting in silence for the next few minutes, he tunes his instrument...

...hello there, old friend - I fear the weather suits you a little less even than it suits my other travelling companions. Your song seems to have been mournful ever since we left the River Kingdoms...

"Barkeep? May I?", Petracleus gestures towards his violin, "and, if you have any, a red wine would be a delight"

Positioning himself near the hearth, Petracleus takes up his bow and starts to play. The melody starts full of hope and joyful motifs before segueing into a frantic tune - searching through high notes and low basses. Every so often, the bard stops, reconsiders the passage and plays the melody again - slightly altered. Aymehn has seen it all before of course, Petracleus is composing something new - this new piece could be ready in days or, as was more often the case, the artist would abandon it unfinished...

Catching the dwarf's eye, "I want to write of the Derro old friend...yet I fear the piece will be tinged with sadness"

Whilst he plays, Petracleus - ever the observer - looks around the room.

...Does living in a place like this lie heavy on the heart? Do the patrons seem welcoming? ...or wary?


"Tinged with sadness? More like bat shit crazy." Damion grumbles, half under his breath.


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

"Indeed, it would be impossible to tell the tale of the derro without talking of their madness...", Petracleus' violin returns to it's sad refrain, "and of the children..."

"Enough of this...let me lift the mood", Petracleus lays his bow to one side, sips his drink and starts to pick out a tune filled with levity. As he plays, he starts to hum along... a deep bass in counterpoint to the high notes of his instrument.


M Human Cleric 6 | hp 36/36

Sorry guys for not getting this in sooner. Lets just say I'm in the tax preparation business, so that should explain the next few days :P

Bards, always looking for the positive. How annoying.

Given what they've been through, there's a good chance Shelyn herself would have a hard time cheering up the dour Pharasman priest. This was especially true given the fact that they had been unsuccessful in their attempt to end the necromancer that was denying souls their rest. The Lady of Graves would see him in one for that and Verran had so desperately wanted to be the one to dig it.

Instead he was drying out his stormcloak in yet another rathole village tavern. While he slowly nursed his first ale, he spoke in his usual monotone to answer the earlier question.

"As much as I'd like to stay here for a day or two and dry out, we need to reach Kavapesta as soon as possible. The more we delay, the greater chance the one we hunt is lost for good."


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

Turning to Aymehn, "What say you? Do you think the rains shall stop before the road becomes impassable? Of course, we must make haste to Kavapesta but I, for one, will not risk hobbling our horses in the attempt"

The playful streak in him now roused, Petracleus can't resist goading the dour Pharasmin just a little, "So Verran, does the Lady of the Graves have any good songs? Anything uplifting I could play for you to remind you of your cold temples, your silent work, those unspeaking bodies that you tend to?". Before Verran can retort, the bard winks and, picking his bow up once more, plays the opening bars of a particularly haunting piece, "This one was written, many centuries ago, for the inauguration of the cathedral in Kaer Maga...let me play it for you"

Religion DC10:
Petracleus is telling the truth, it is a well known piece of music - all the more noteworthy given the absolute silence in which the church normally conducts it's business


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

The warrior ignores the banter between the bard and the priest, preferring to relax and take what rest he could, while he could. The morrow promised more of the same of the last few days: Cold, wet, miserable. The weather hadn't changed much, he knew...it had been a change within him. He'd have to find that inner fire again, and re-kindle it. He takes a strong gulp of his beverage, having to make do with a false fire, for now.

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

Aymehn looks to his bard friend with a warm smile, recognition for the performance that lifted the mood of the inn if not the traveling companions.

"I would wager songs about derro are better left to different minstrels, my friend."

Aymehn looks from Petracleus to his less light hearted comrades.

"I wish I knew how to explain to them the push our Mother Earth has sent to me. Alas,I cannot relate it."

Aymehn slowly looks around the room, but not with his eyes, with the earth's eyes instead. He reaches out to every shout resonating in every brick. He attunes himself to the ceramic mugs raised in revelry. Who were they surrounded by? What did this resting place have to offer? What dangers lurked in the shadows?

perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (2) + 14 = 16


Your humble narrator

The bartender nods to Petracleus at his offer to make some music. He also sends a serving wench carrying a decanter of red wine and some glasses.

Perform (violin): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

Conversations ebb away as Petracleus plays a few fiddle tunes, with applause increasing between them. A few more folks enter inn while he plays. Soon, your meals arrive and the bard takes a break from performance. The stew is thick, hot, and hearty; the roast fowl crispy and tender; the bread is warm and buttery; and the ale is frothy and warm.

Aymehn:
You notice a man with long dark hair and a VanDyke beard enter the inn during Petracleus' performance, buy an ale, and sit in a corner table by himself. He wears bright red clothing and a silk scarf. He does not applaud at the tunes, and he keeps looking in your direction during your meal.


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

Merick's mouth waters as the aroma of the arriving meal assails his senses. Trail rations could keep one going, but fare such as this was good for the soul! He eats slowly, savoring each tantalizing mouthful, washing down almost every bite with the warm ale. Thoughts of lost children are momentarily washed away by the delicious spread, and he mindlessly consumes for a few minutes, not knowing when his next hearty meal will be coming.

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

Aymehn becomes uncomfortable. Never able to rest with an easy feeling, the dwarf leans back and starts fiddling with the rocks that he carefully chose to reside in his pockets.

"I appreciate the warmth, but don't like the roof. It appears though that your talents have not gone unnoticed, my friend "


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

Countessa likewise takes to her stew with gusto. It has been some time since she has had true cooking, as opposed to rations, and she appreciates the delightful flavor of the meal.


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

...and to think we could have spent the night sheltering beneath a tree - it may have suited Aymehn but the rest of us needed this. What happened to those poor children has hit some of us hard...

Happy to set his violin to one side for while, Petracleus relishes the hot food set before them and, showing appreciation to the kitchen staff, raises a glass and makes a toast in their honour. Turning back to his companions, "So have any of you travelled out this way before? How much further to Kavapesta? Might we make it on the morrow?"

...and get back on the trail of that necromancer...


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

Countess shakes her head slowly in response to Petracleus' question. She leans back in her chair and allows her eyes to close. Just for a minute... she tells herself.

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

Aymehn dunks the last of his bread into his stew bowl. As he raises the crust to his mouth he pauses to whisper words of caution to his companions.

"Get comfortable, but be on the ready. We are being watched."


Damion will flag dow the waitress and ask, "How much for the meal?" Whatever she answers he'll giver her double saying, "Good food. Bring me another. And ale"

He'll stretch and take a surreptitious look around perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

Countessa's eyes flash open. She had very nearly been asleep until the deep baritone of Damion's voice brought her back to consciousness. She glances about quickly, but if her companions had noticed, they did not make any indication of such.


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

Merick gives Aymehn a slight nod of his head to indicate he understands. He sees their lady companion nodding off, and the half-orc ordering more food and drink, and can't really find fault with either plan. He shakes his head at Petracleus' question.

"No idea how much farther it might be. I thought you bards were the know-it-alls." A sickly smile spreads across the warrior's lips before he drains the last of his mug. As Damion's waitress steps forth, Merick silently raises his mug, indicating a refill is needed.


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

Petracleus, Untrained Knowledge (Geography) for distance to Kavapesta: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

The bard makes no attempt to conceal his amusement at Merick's retort, "Heh...you've got me there - geography never was my strong point though. And, if it had been, I still never thought to travel through Ustalav..." Savouring his wine, Petracleus continues, "But, here we all are...my companions of the road. A toast to a good night's rest 'neath a roof with food in our stomachs!!!"

When Aymehn indicates that they are being watched, Petracleus takes a place next to the fire and, bringing his violin to his shoulder, starts to play a series of Ustalavic tunes. From his vantage point, he looks out at his 'audience' - a natural performer, he starts to sing and, encouraging folk to join in, starts to get a sense for the mood in the place...

Petracleus, Perception (looking for the person Aymehn has indicated): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

Petracleus, Sense Motive (using Versatile Performance / Perform - Sing) for crowd and, if he can identify him, the person watching the group: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23


Your humble narrator

Petracleus:
According to the map, the city of Kavapesta is about a hundred miles west of Carrion Hill. Of course, it's also over the mountains on a track that seems less a road than a rough trail. Your best guess is that the journey will take about a week total, meaning that you're probably about halfway there.

After Aymehn points out the man in the corner watching you, all of you sneak a glance at him. He wears bright red clothing, a silk scarf, and billowy blue pantaloons. His hair is dark and wavy, shoulder-length, and tied in a loose pony tail. He also has a pointed VanDyke beard. He meets your gaze and raises his glass slightly in your direction, but doesn't smile.

Knowledge (local) DC 10:
He appears to be of Varisian heritage, and is wearing traditional Varisian clothing.

After you have mostly finished your meals, the man in the corner drains his glass, stands, and approaches your table. At the same time, a strange hush seems to fall over the tavern. The stranger's heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows.

He walks directly up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms. His accented voice speaks, "You are the heroes of Carrion Hill, no? I have been sent to you to deliver this message. If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my master's aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich woods at night!" He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you by name in a beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. "Take the north road from here some five hours ride down through the Svalich woods. There you will find my master in Barovia."

Amid the continued silent stares of the patronage, the Varisian man strides to the bar and says to the wary barkeeper, "Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched." He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he turns and strides out the door into the foggy night. Distant thunder rolls as the door swings shut.

The babble of tavern voices resumes, although somewhat subdued. The letter is lying before you. Dated yesterday, the ink is still not fully dry and the parchment is crisp. The seal is of a crest you don't recognize.


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

Countessa waits until the man has departed before reaching for the letter. She reads it aloud, though in a subdued tone.


Male Human Techie 2 / Bureaucrat 6

Letter from mysterious stranger

The letter reads:

6 Gozran 4709

Hail to thee of might and valor!

I, a lowly servant of the township of Barovia, send honor to thee. We plead for thy so desperately needed assistance within our community.

The love of my life, Ireena Kolyana, has been afflicted by an evil so deadly that even the good people of our town cannot protect her. She languishes from her wound and I would have her saved from this menace.

There is much wealth in this community. I offer all that might be had to thee and thy fellows if thou shalt but answer my desperate plea.

Come quickly for her time is at hand! All I may have shall be thine!

Kolyan Indrirovich,
Burgomaster


M Human Cleric 6 | hp 36/36

Verran fell silent at the bard's barb and went back to his usual silent contemplation. That was, of course, until the man approached and delivered the letter. Listening as it was read, Verran stroked his chin in curiosity. The whole situation was odd, but it did get the Pharasman's attention. After pondering the request, Verran delivered his first impression after a moment.

"Takes us away from our destination and away from our quarry. As generous as the offer was and as good as the money sounds, we have a more important thing to attend to."


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

"He sounds rather desperate. Are we to ignore a plea for help? I think that we can spare a day or two to look into it. If we find ourselves unable or unwilling to help, then we have lost but a few days from our journey, nothing more.

"He did say that Barovia was but a few hours' ride from here. We could go there by daylight, see what can be done, and take our leave if it proves too difficult or lengthy."


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

Merick nods along with Countessa's speech. "Dusty trails will remain just as dusty while we deal with this interlude. And perhaps setting this one wrong to right might be the very tonic to soothe our festering wounds." Mental wounds, of course. Any physical ailments had long been banished on their trip.


"Anyone who offers 'all that might be had' either has nothing to offer or means to negotiate the fee after the job is done." He rubs his chin absently, "Still, it might be worth a look. I am curious about this unnamed evil."

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

"Well it is starting to sound like this matter is settled. Unless anyone needs anything from me, I'd like to get some rest. We should be prepared to depart very early."

Aymehn stands, his large feet comfortably harboring the weight of his stocky frame. His back cracks audibly. He checks his pack, looking over the odds and ends, and bits and pieces that have accumulated. Each gravel told a story; each stone held a memory.

I wonder if I might not prefer sleeping in the stables tonight. If the rain weren't so damnably cold I would be certain that is what I wanted. Well, maybe this inn's rooms feature large windows. A dwarf can hope, at least.


M Human Cleric 6 | hp 36/36

Verran seems displeased with the direct the coversation is going. He specifically looks at Merick.

"Dusty trails are also more likely to be lost. If we run off to do this, we might lose him completely. Can you really stomach that after what we've been through?"


Your humble narrator

Looking at the letter...

Linguistics (DC 10):
The letter uses oddly archaic language.

Knowledge (local) (DC 30):
Looking at the names in the letter, you notice something kind of odd. In many parts of rural Ustalav, commoners use a patronymic rather than a family name. 'Ireena Kolyana' means 'Ireena, daughter of Kolyan.'

The letter is signed, 'Kolyan Indrirovich,' which means 'Kolyan, son of Indrivov.'

Your first read would indicate that this Ireena is the signer's daughter... but the phrase 'love of my life' implies romantic love rather than parental love.

Odd.


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

Petracleus, Knowledge (Local) - observing the messenger: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

"Our friend was far from home - did anyone notice his garb? Unless I am mistaken, I would guess he originally hailed from Varisia - a detail maybe... Yet the wandering folk of that nation would be sorely affected by the atmosphere of this country" Absent mindedly moving his repertoire westwards to Varisia, the bard is lost in thought for a while - listening to his compatriots, he considers the options before lending support to the idea of riding to Barovia.

"Come now friends, as Countessa says - it may only be a days diversion, especially if we set out early in the morning," Petracleus smiles, "Our reputation appears to be preceding us these days"


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

"I find it odd, however, that the letter uses such archaic words and sentence structure," Contessa muses, looking the letter over. "The use of 'thee' and 'thy', for example. It is inconsistent with this day and age."


Your humble narrator

Note about Varisians that you all would know (no Knowledge check required): Most Ustalav natives are of Varisian ancestry, and Varisian is a very common spoken language (almost as common as the "common tongue" called Taldane). That said, relatively few carry on with the traditional Varisian ways of wandering the land in caravans and wearing traditional Varisian garb; they're the only ones who would call themselves 'Varisians.' Still, that lifestyle is common enough, and all of you have observed traditional Varisian caravans in your travels at least a few times.

Real-world analogy:
Varisians are the game-world analogue to the Romani people of Europe or the Irish Travellers. The term "gypsy" has traditionally been used for these people, but many within the Romani and Travellers communities consider that word a slur.


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

Merick sighs at Verran's look. "As if days of rain and dozens of miles haven't already cooled the trail to the point of hopelessness. Let us do this good deed, see what it is about. These trials shall still await us when we return."


"We are hunting a man capable of great evil and now we hear of someone suffering from a great evil. It could be this is the work of the necromancer we are looking for. It would be stupid of him to do something this soon and this close to his last crime, but some people can't help themselves."

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

"Damion is right, Verran. It is very possible that the necromancer and the Varisian's request are somehow intertwined. Even if the two are not related, I've heard your Lady's patience is endless. Why not emulate the virtue?"

Aymehn gives the cleric a side long glance and a friendly smile, and then returns his focus to his pack.


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

Taking a look for himself, "It is a strange way of writing...an affectation maybe? Maybe even a local dialect that still uses ancient language...hmmm, all very intriguing". Wrapping his violin back within the oilskin, Petracleus makes a pithy observation about days spent on horseback and the need for a soft bed before bidding goodnight to his friends.

...an early start tomorrow...mystery awaits us I feel...


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

The situation settled, Merick excuses himself to find what rest he can before the group heads out tomorrow.

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

After sorting through the various pebbles in his pack, Aymehn plucks a craggy square stone in his thick fingers. He places it just in front of Verran, giving the cleric a look that seems to indicate this token should comfort Verran's worries, or placate his desires to continue after the necromancer.

"Sleep well."

Aymehn hoists his pack to his shoulders and begins to whistle a low tune, attempting to replicate some of the sweeping violin melodies he heard earlier in the night.

He stops just at the outside wall of the inn and peaks out at the rain still pouring down outside. He shakes his head, exchanging the whistling for a grumble. He heads up the stairs to find a place to rest.


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

Countessa, too, heads for the land of dreams.


Your humble narrator

GM only:
Aymehn: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22
Countessa: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Daimon: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Merick: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Petracleus: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Verran: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24

One by one, as you are ready to retire for the night, one of the serving wenches shows you to your rooms. Seasoned adventurers such as yourselves have stayed in many an inn, and your rooms do not strike you as any better or worse than most.

The storm outside strengthens, and a loud crack of thunder wakes all of you at one point. The sounds of the storm keep you awake for perhaps an hour, but you all manage to drift off again.

Countessa:
You find yourself walking through a mist-shrouded forest wearing a scarlet evening gown and fancy party shoes. You aren't alarmed at first until you notice that you don't have your spell component pouch, and you realize suddenly that don't know how you got outside. You feel a presence behind you, and you turn to see a pair of floating, glowing white eyes about twenty feet behind you. You start to run through the mist, pushing past dead branches of trees that seem to reach out to you. You don't look back, but you can feel the eyes burning into you, getting closer... closer... closer...

You wake with a gasp, in your room at the inn.

Petracleus:
You are hunting derro in the crypts below Carrion Hill. The crypts are a maze of twisty passages, all alike. You hear the cries of children echoing through the passages, and you quicken your pace to find them before the derro do... things... to the children. You realize suddenly that your companions are not with you any more—they must have turned right when you went left! You press on, following the cries, which turn to screams of pain and terror. You enter a large hall, and you see a stone altar before you at the far end of the darkened chamber. A body lies on the altar, twitching. You approach with caution, and find a man lying there, moaning, with skin turning to liquid, melting off him. You look at his face... and see a twisted, melting version of your own! A deep voice laughs behind you. You turn to see the silhouette of a tall man in a cape. The necromancer! His laughter echoes through the chamber and through your very soul. The man on the slab grabs your arm, and your own flesh starts to melt. You scream in terror...

You wake with a gasp, in your room at the inn.

You wake to the sounds of birds calling outside. Diffuse sunlight comes through the shutters of the window, and you open them to a bright, overcast day. Patches of mist creep through the trees and buildings of the village, and the air is cool on this early spring day.

You prepare for the day, gather your possessions, and head back downstairs to the common room. The barkeep offers a simple country breakfast of bread with jam, porridge, cheese, and black ale, as, one by one, your companions join you.


Male Human Fighter 5 HP 49/49 | AC 27 /T 13 /FF 25 | F +6 R +4 W +4 (+5 vs Fear) | Perc +1 | Init +6

Feeling somewhat better after a decent night's sleep under a dry roof, Merick comes downstairs and helps himself to the simple fare, breaking his fast as he awaits the others. He notes with approval the relative brightness of the day, even if it is overcast. Perhaps the weather was relenting. It couldn't come any sooner. The dreary atmosphere had been weighing on all their spirits, he knew.

He goes ahead and starts gathering his gear, getting ready to hit the road as his companions start to trudge downstairs.

Grand Lodge

Druid 5 || HP 43/43 || AC 18/12 Tch/17 FF || F+8 R+4 W+10 || CMB +4 CMD 15 || Perception +14 || Init +1

Aymehn descends the stairs. He pauses only to acknowledge Merick with a wave before heading out the front door of the inn. He spends several minutes outside before returning indoors.

When he does come inside, he sits next to Merick at the breakfast table. It is quite apparent that his beard is even filthier now than it had been when he had first descended the stairs this morning.

He smiles at the food placed before him, and begins to scoop porridge into his mouth. The cheese and bread disappear into a napkin that is placed into his sack.

"Good to see you up so early, Merick. I do believe our travels will be less somber today. Of course, I haven't had a chance to check Verran's mood yet."


Fighter 3 / Bard 3, AC20 / T15 / FF15, F+5, R+8, W+4 (+5 vs Fear), HP17/45, Bardic Performance 11/11 Human Received the Forge Card.

His slumber interrupted by the storm outside and by bad dreams, Petracleus finally gives up on his elusive sleep and, instead, sits at the window watching the receding thunderclouds in the early dawnlight. Softly he sings to himself, songs of Brevoy, songs of his childhood and songs of loss...as he hears movement in the adjacent rooms, he gets dressed for the day ahead - a day that, as had become the norm, would mostly be spent on horseback.

Coming down the stairs, Petracleus takes a seat next to Aymehn - he merely picks at the food...his normal appetite for breakfast somehow absent this morning. Even his smile, at the dwarf's jest, is strangely forced... He does however follow Aymhen's lead and places a good portion of bread and cheese in his travelling pack.

Placing his bowl to one side, he stands and informs his companions, "I shall be waiting outside...we should leave as soon as we can - We don't wish to be caught in a storm like last night's..."


Female Human Wizard 6 || HP 25/38 || AC 12 (16 w/mage armor)/11 Tch/11 FF (15 w/mage armor) || F+2 R+3 W+6 || CMB +3 CMD 15 (14 FF) || Perception +5

Countessa comes downstairs to join her companions. She eats lightly, not really requiring either food nor much sleep thanks to her ring of sustenance. Nonetheless, she partakes out of habit and politeness.

"You seem troubled, Petracleus. Did you not sleep well?"

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