Jeremiah, not about to go wandering into the dark misty woods by himself, pries up a hefty stone from the path and pitches it towards the source of the noise before leveling his revolver.
Perception check to catch a reaction: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18
Jarema steps forward until he can see the outlines of other figures in the fog. He holds his longbow ready, aiming alternately at each person he sees. "I see you have me outnumbered. But if you have aims of banditry, know that I can kill one or two of you before you fell me. Is it worth the risk for the meager coin in my purse?"
Ready a Focused Shot with Deadly Aim at the first person to attack me or cast a spell.
Jeremiah quirked an eyebrow and looked at his assorted companions. "I don't blame you for guessin' bandits. My first impression of this lot was circus, actually," He drawled in his Grand Duchy accent and holstered his revolver.
"Just some travelers, lookin' to find our way to Barovia. Got caught by some Worgs and now we're all turned about in this blasted fog."
"Unfortunately, the answers to both of those questions were lost in the mist. I heard there were ancient mausoleums of nobility past, and I was interested in... examining them."
HP: 53/53, AC 22/25 (T.ac 16/19, FFac 15), CMD 23 (24/trip, 25/disarm and sunder) Fort +9, Ref +7, Will +7, Per +9, Init +4, AoOs 4/4
"Wonderful." Sir Simon says with an exasperated sigh. "This fence should help keep us safe for the night. Let's look around a bit to make sure we aren't intruding on anyone before setting up another camp. Sir, there are Warg about. You shuld probably stay with us for the time being. You will be safer in a group."
It is still pretty early in the day for setting up camp. The group continues on the road for much of the rest of the day. The fog never quite lets up entirely, but visibility does eventually extend to about a hundred feet. As you walk, even the non-trackers can tell the trail is descending into an unseen valley, though the way is not overly steep or difficult.
As the day draws on into evening, the path levels out somewhat, and the forest recedes beyond the fog. In the distance along the road, somewhat beyond the line of visibility, a small handful of lights, like lanterns, can be seen.
"What do you make of these lights in the distance?", Red ask to no one in particular as see gazes out into the growing darkness. "Considering our last visitors in this part of the wood, I would say we must be careful so as not make ourselves as visible as they."
"Well, I suppose those could either be lights to a village or a group of will-o-wisps waiting to lure us to our deaths or something. I'm rather hoping for the village option. Perhaps we've even manage to stumble upon the one that we have been seeking?"
"Why don't we move together a little further and see if we can tell if it is a village or something more sinister. I'd hate to see us lose you to a family of will-o-wisps Wexley." Dourmahr strains his ears to see if he can pick up anything that his eyes cannot.
Perception1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
"Welcome Ustalav, son," giving the man a companionable pat on the shoulder.
"I once stayed in what seemed like a perfectly normal town where people's heads had a bad habit of becomin' detached and attackin' people. I arrived with a band of Varisians and as night fell, all of the townsfolk fell quiet and rushed home. About half an hour later, their heads were swarming over the town, devourin' anythin' that was not one of them."
HP: 53/53, AC 22/25 (T.ac 16/19, FFac 15), CMD 23 (24/trip, 25/disarm and sunder) Fort +9, Ref +7, Will +7, Per +9, Init +4, AoOs 4/4
"Durren's Field. I've been there. The affliction is from a hereditary curse that turns the townsfolk's heads into a creature called a Vargouille while the full moon is in the sky. No known cure, and it's also communicable if they manage to kiss a newly severed head. The can't approach you if you wear a headband of braided garlic. Last year my father and I had them attach shutters and chains to their doors and windows, and had them move their bedrooms to the basements wherever possible. Now, when their heads come off at night, they find it rather difficult to get out of the house. I suspect not many of them can open latches with their tongues."
"Sounds like you just caught them at the wrong time of the month. Other than the flying head thing, they are uncommonly kind people. You should visit again if you ever get the chance."
Simon was mostly expressing disgust at the gate standing without a fence, not surprise. He's lived in Ustalav his whole life.
"I doubt they'd have me back, I killed three of them durin' the escape. One, I think, was their mayor. Another looked like it might've belonged to a child. Two of the Varisians I was travellin' with succumbed to the creatures' curse. Had to put them down too." As usual, there was more to the story, a lot more, but Jeremiah did not think that the others needed to hear his sob stories.
"You've a softer hand than I. If I'd had my way that town would be cinders on the wind."
Jeremiah is firmly of the opinion that Ustalav is full of people with poor decision-making skills, so either way, it works.
HP: 53/53, AC 22/25 (T.ac 16/19, FFac 15), CMD 23 (24/trip, 25/disarm and sunder) Fort +9, Ref +7, Will +7, Per +9, Init +4, AoOs 4/4
"I thought the same when I was younger. Then a cousin came down with lycanthropy. Most of the time he's fine. Then once a month we have to lock him up to keep him from killing us all. The thing that I came to understand was that with curses like that, the things they become aren't really them. It's like possession. The host can't really be considered to be the one at fault. They're just as much a victim as anyone. Sometimes it's necessary to kill people who are afflicted with conditions like that, but I try not to let it be my first choice."
"That may be the case, but when I'm staring down the barrel of my musket at some slaverin' beasty, I'm plannin' on shootin' before I offer to help it manage its urges to rip my face into shreds. I learned long ago that the first rule of stayin' alive is to keep a firm hold on you and yours before you go worryin' about the fates of those that want to part you from them."
"For your sake and mine, I'm gonna to pretend that my career in firearms has actually deafened me some. So yes, run ahead, otherwise we might need to have a chat about the consequences of impolite tongues waggin' freely." Jeremiah gave Wexley a smile.
Sorry for the delay, what with the whole Turkey Day thing coming up. I am flying out to visit family today, but I will have an Internet connection, so I will update later tonight, once I get into Reno.
