Res Thannq |
Res steps forward. "Sister Claudette gave us some medical aid and we in turn helped her with a small vermin problem she had. The Sisters of Charity have been very helpful thus far and we have tried to return the favor. I see you you are direct and have important duties to attend, we are indeed looking for some potions and such. We are willing to pay, it helps us and gives you some funds to continue your good work."
Celestial GM |
Sister Magritte says to Res, "Step inside then. Let us talk further."
The room is simple and sparse. Uneven wooden floorboards creak noisily beneath your feet and a dusty piece of needlepoint hangs desperately on the wall. An odd, drafty, whistling sound comes from a floor above.
"Sister Claudette is well then?" she asks. "We hear from other sisters so infrequently."
"What might you need? I prepare basic potions for travelers. One must be prepared in these lands."
For simplicity, I will say that you can purchase up to 6 First level potions of your choice and 2 Second level (all potions should be limited to the cleric spell list). That is her inventory. You can commission more, though.
Tybalt Scorzia |
We still have no idea how to stop the transformation? Other than the ritual is during the first change? Otherwise, this could be a good place to get some materials for it - especially 'Wolfsbane' or the like since they'd be less trouble from lycanthropes & thus more willing to sell some of it.
"Certainly, all the Sisters were doing well when we last left. She's quite the politic." Tybalt smiles kindly. "We are headed into the swamp, though we have a guide, can you recommend any substances we should take? I'm sure we wouldn't want to be nibbled on by insects." he adds throwing one of his charming smiles out.
Andrzej Plamen |
"Can you provide us with some way of slowing or stopping the ravages of the Moon Curse, lycanthropy?" adds Andrzej. He speaks directly and tries not to scratch or fidget at all. Thinking about not doing it makes it harder somehow.
Celestial GM |
Tybalt, you do not really know anything more than that.
"The swamp? That does not bode well," Sister Magritte says ruefully. "The dead walk in that place. Holy water may be in order. And those of the living that dwell there - they are savages and cannibals. Do not expect much succor from that lot. No, the mosquitos are the least of your concerns, although some relief from disease couldn't hurt."
When Andrzej asks his question, the Sister looks askance. She responds with a steely proclamation: "If someone you know has been stricken, kill the poor soul with silver. It is the merciful thing to do."
Tybalt Scorzia |
His heart stops and shivers run up his spine at the Sisters' proclimation, however deep within there's the hope that it can be stopped - that the doctor can cure it. However practised to keeping his expressions neutral at court he lets on none of emotions.
"Yes, some Holy water would be much appreciated. By the by, our guide is a fishmonger named Leclerc, are you of his acquaintance? If so, has thou found him to be a good man, if slightly uncouth?" Tybalt wonders, hoping that the guide isn't in league with the backwoods clans of the swamp. For he has heard tales of their strange rituals and ways, exotically disturbing, like the alligator tooth maca's and human skin clothes.
Celestial GM |
"I don't know the name," she says, "but the swamp can turn the purest soul to evil. I would not be inclined to trust anybody who knows those ways well."
The floor above creeks uneasily in the silence that follows.
Let me know what you wish to buy. Standard prices apply. She can sell holy water as well as the potions referenced previously.
Tybalt Scorzia |
Tybalt asks the Sister if she has heard anything about an old temple in the swamp. "Some old religious building? A necropolis? I heard some pilgrims used to go there for their observances."
However this is all he asks about, before heading back to the inn - in the hopes that Doctor Savarre made it there safely.
Andrzej Plamen |
"Sister if you do not know more. Who does?" Andrzej tries hard to keep his composure under the unremitting lack of knowledge, lack of information. He secretly is thankful that the bard is here too to help ask these dull people what they should know. The Land of Mists is truly a place of smoke and mirrors although the former sword-dancer does not believe it would be so difficult.
Celestial GM |
Sister Magritte sighs. "I recall reading a history that discusses the features of this realm. The necropolis is a site dedicated to some long forgotten deity. The sites and depictions there suggest that it may have been a place of human sacrifice. The dead walk there, and do not suffer the living."
"If you are looking for more, perhaps the library." She can tell you where that is.
FYI, particularly for you Ravenloft natives - history and archaeology are not the tidy fields in this realm that they are in some other worlds. The lands themselves were created whole-cloth out of the Mists by the Dark Powers, often with features like ancient ruins fully extant. A ruin in a place like that quite literally has no history. It has truly always been a ruin - its "origins" merely a fabrication from when the Dark Powers produced the realm from out of the nothingness of Mist. Ravenloft is full of ancient sites that have no legitimate provenance or history. It should be somewhat second nature to Ravenloft natives that some ruins have simply always been there for as long as anyone can remember.
If you want to consult with the library, we can handle that with Knowledge checks, using an appropriate bonus.
At Res's offer of assistance, the Sister says, "Thank you. I am quite alright, but be careful out there."
Res Thannq |
The grim look on Res' face transforms immediately to a mixture of astonishment and happiness as he recognizes Angalia. He returns the embrace.
"Angalia, I am surprised and happy to see you here. Tiffana's nightmares are getting worse? What about the others, have their conditions improved? The others are right behind me, let us move to that corner of the dining room so that we can speak."
As they wait for the others to join them, Res relays their journey through the mist and their preparations.
Angalia |
"It sounds as if your journey was more difficult than mine. The cloak helped of course, so we mostly just hid and slid past anything that moved.
The others are . . . stable at least. The sisters are doing all they can."
Angalia keeps the rest of her news to herself until everyone arrives.
Res Thannq |
"Well stable is better than deteriorating, small miracle in this forsaken world." answers Res. "I hope the others arrive soon, the look on your face tells me your information is very troubling. I'm glad you are back with us Angalia. As for me, I am ready to move on. There is nothing worse for a soldier like me than sitting and waiting."
Angalia |
Andrzej comes down and joins the happy gathering. He takes a drink and nods to Angalia waving it between their noses, "to serendity."
Taking another glass, Angalia echoes his gesture.
"I must ask in this dreadful place. Who is still here among the group that left the Sisters?"
Angalia |
Angalia nods in greeting and holds out her hands.
"It's this. Tiff saw a portent of death. She saw a lot of blood, and a small blade. The vision did not clearly show the assassin, but the eyes were vacant, resembling delicate porcelain marbles. She is certain that the victim is one of us, and if we are caught unaware, one of us will die. I've noticed that death is not usually the end here and I don't want to see more friends and companions vanish. So I came to find you and tell you. Tiff's visions don't lie and nor does she."
She takes another sip of her drink.
"Have you seen anyone with eyes like that?"
Andrzej Plamen |
"Lycanthropes. We have met lots of them. Not with marble eyes though. Maybe the swamp temple has something bad like that. A small blade sounds interesting - like a dagger or the ilk." Andrzej struggles to maintain a positive attitude in view of yet more conundrums and half truths. He is beginning to realise just how wide the Land is and why his people wander it, for tales. For knowledge.
He gets himself a small beer and drinks slowly. Listening to the conversation for more.
Tybalt Scorzia |
With a soft nod at Angalia's kind words, he then feels he must speak up; "We are off to the necropolis in search of Harag's Skull, but do you think that the dagger could be Sarens' Fang - one of the items of Power." he capitalises that word. "But the item in question is in Vlads' personal armoury. Why would he send a minion out, for surely that matches one of the night-walkers, to kill us. Perhaps he's read some auguries?"
He brushes a stray chestnut lock from his eyebrow, furrowed slightly in thought.
Celestial GM |
Tybalt Scorzia |
Conscience getting the better of him, he turns back to Angalia - half hiding his face behind the glass of sour wine. In a low mumble speaking into the drink he adds; "Back in town some of us were bitten by the lycanthropes..."
He lets the words hang in the air. 'Anyone who comes along with us really deserves to know.'
Angalia |
Angalia nods and keeps her own gaze neutral. "I wondered. I've seen comrades succomb before and if I can help prevent it, I will."
She does her best not to remember the last she saw of her friends left with the sisters and fails completely.
Rising, she follows Res and Andrzej upstairs for some much needed sleep.
Celestial GM |
"The nights have always been dangerous," she says. "But lately there have been murders. Folks killed in their beds, throats cut by a blade. Seems to be wealthier folk. Maybe a thief; I can't say."
"No messages," she says to Tybalt.
You only left Richemulot 3 days ago. Dr. Savarre obviously left a day later, since he was still there to send word via Angalia. He was headed to consult his colleague in Mordentshire - Professor Binwick. That journey will take him 3 days, and then an indeterminate amount of time for him (or a message) to reach you via a merchant ship.