Curse of Strahd by hiiamtom (Inactive)

Game Master hiiamtom

I am no expert, but I am capable of some swordsmanship - as is my sister. It is just dangerous to travel this land just the two of us, he pauses before adding, My father was the burgomaster of this village. I know the burgomaster of Vallaki, if you wish to go that far I can arrange a reward for bringing us there.

"No reward will be necessary, just an introduction to this mayor.", the dwarf says to the man.

Turning and in a lower voice so only their group can hear, he whispers.

"We need a place to rest and away from this cursed town would probably be best. We might even be able to find allies in these other villages. Remember the priest told us to leave this berg, and I think it might be a very good idea. What do you say?"

I say aye. If we can interfere with the work of this devil, we should.

Excellent, then please come with me to my home. We can set out as soon as you would like, but traveling is near impossible at night in this land so we should hurry.

"Lead on, lets get going before dark overwhelms us."

The man pays the tab and escorts you trough the morning mist clinging to the few remaining cobblestones in the square. As balandusk joins you he reacts first in shock drawing a shortsword, but as it is explained to him he calms himself and agrees that he cannot travel as a naked zombie-dragon-man.

The man darts into a shop on the southern side of the square named "Bildrath's Mercentile," where he emerges with a dark grey woven cloak. It's a little too warm for the weather but the thick, coarse fiber of the cloak and deep good cover the distinct features showing Balandusk to be a dragonborn.

Balandusk receives cold weather clothing.

Moving on, you travel to a home at the southernmost area of town that is separated from the typical townhouse style you have seen in town. A short 5ft wall surrounds the house that has a modest wet yard surrounding the two or three story building.

Immediately you see the gate in the front of these walls are broken and twisted and damaged beyond repair. Something has smashed these iron gates with great force. The yard inside is tramped and muddied, and the walls of the home are scratched and scorched everywhere you see, though the damage is clustered more towards the bottom of the walls.

The windows are boarded up with thick pale hardwood, and garlic and symbols of he Morninglord hang from the windows. The front door looks recently replaced with a simple flat panel, but even it has already been beaten on and scratched heavily.

Like I said, the Devil has taken interest in my sister. During the day it is fine but come night his creatures besiege our home. It has left her quite paranoid./b]

He strides to the door and bangs roughly on the door in a brief but distinct pattern, you hear a female voice from the inside call out, [b]Who is there!?

The man announces, Ireena, it is I, Ismark. I have returned with great news! I found some sturdy fellows to bring us west, away from here! He gives a little thumbs up toward you guys.

Ismark, we discussed this. I will not go, we cannot leave father here alone!

Ismark runs his hand through his blonde hair in frustration, Open the door and we will discuss this!

Discussion is over, have them leave and then I will let you in!

Ismark walks over and says quietly, Hey, she's stressed and injured and we have lost hope for some time. I'm sure if we can get inside and speak we can change her mind, but she is studdorn and won't listen to me.

Emron scratches his chin. She says that you cannot leave your father here? What is wrong? Is he ill?

Well, he fell ill recently... but the stress of the nightly attacks have been too much to bear. He passed away two nights ago suddenly but peacefully. Ireena is more concerned about what happens to his... body than anything. The thought of him being used as one of the Devil's plaything... Ismark trails off leaving the sentence hanging.

"If your father is in there rotting, the best way to keep him from rising against you is to burn it. And if you have no desire to return here, set the entire house aflame so his ashes mingle with those of the house." He looks back toward the church, then over to Ismark. Is there reason you do not bury him in the church cemetary, or is that place not safe from the touch of this devil?"

Emron nods at Ismarks sentence. She is right to be concerned. That "man" is evil.

Bringing my father to Donnovich would be meaningless, that drunk has been useless for the better part of a year.

"Then what do you propose, Ismark?" asks Urrnir, growing impatient.

Well, I will go inside and speak to her. I'll leave the door open, please come inside and lock it behind you. She will be angry, but we need the support. I know I'm asking a lot, but bear with me - you are saving our lives. With that Ismark ushers you behind the wall and dashes to the door again, I have sent them off, Ireena. Let me inside.

There is the sound of a heavy bolt being moved and the door opens to let Ismark inside. You cannot hear anything when the door closes again, but you realize you also do no hear the bolt set back into place.

Shrugging, Bazim opens the door and holds it for the others to enter. Once everyone is in, he closes and bolts the door behind himself.

Emron comes in to the room, trying to look as friendly as possible.

The interior of the mansion is well furnished, yet the fixtures show signs of great wear. Noticeable oddities are the boarded-up windows and the presence of holy symbols in every room.

The late burgomaster is in a side drawing room immediately to your left. His body is on the floor-lying in a simple wooden coffin surrounded by wilting flowers and a faint odor of decay. The room has otherwise been cleared out.

There is a heated argument in a different side room up the hall, He deserves more respect than a fire!

Our lives are more important than pomp and circumstance! If we stay here we are dead, we can escape, and make it to Vallaki. We are just a plaything for the Devil in here, and if he visits you again you know you won't survive!

Then save yourself! If Strahd wants me, let him have me if it spares you. I'm not getting my hopes up for another one of your lesser schemes.

The undeath you fear for our father is the one I fear for you!

... Then let us take father to church, maybe we can clean Donnovich up enough to take care of him. Maybe he will help if we tell him he can stop what happened to Doru from happening to our father.

It's a little awkward standing near the siblings arguing when you are not meant to be there, but it sounds like Ireena's fury has sedated.

Urrnir waits wearily for them to be called in.

Ismark having talked down Ireena comes back to the hall with her, she doesn't say much but with Ismark's help you are able to bring the coffin holding the former burgomaster to the church. Donnovich is cleaning the mess that has gathered while he was lost down a bottle.

Greeting you all warmly, the coldness in Ireena was left as Ismark pretends he knew all along that you had helped the priest out. He has a rickety cart loaded with the burgomaster's coffin and says he can handle burying the man on his own and could use the exercise. Ismark and Ireena say their goodbye as Donnovich says a prayer over the body.

Ready to go, you head west from the Village of Barovia along the Old Svalich Road which quickly turns to rutted mud under the constant rolling mists under thick clouds. Even in the sun remains completely blotted out and it never gets above dim lighting in the flat land.

1d20 ⇒ 4

Soon the road reaches a once finely made bridge of mortared white stones turned gray with age and mold. The weather remains a permanently autumn cool as you pass over the crystal clear Ivlis River passes quickly over smooth blue-tinted stones.

1d20 ⇒ 15

Past the bridge the grass turns to moss and weeds as densely packed evergreens rise high into the sky. Towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave, yet exude the feeling that a scream could not pass more than a few yards through the thicket.

1d20 ⇒ 14

An old wooden gallows creaks in a chill wind that blows down from the high ground to the west. A frayed length of rope dances from its beam. The well-worn road splits here, and a signpost opposite the gallows points off in three directions: BAROVIA VILLAGE to the east, TSER POOL to the northwest, and RAVENLOFT/VALLAKI to the southwest. The northwest fork slants down and disappears into the trees, while the southwest fork clings to an upward slope.

Across from the gallows, a low wall, crumbling in places, partially encloses a small plot of graves shrouded in fog.

Ismark runs a hand through his hair and says, I think you have to take the road up to a bridge across the falls to go on to Vallaki. That's the dangerous stretch, it comes close to Castle Ravenloft.

You are at a literal crossroads here.

There's no other way, huh? We should go, but stick close to the trees so we aren't spotted.

Well there are no trees when you get into the foothills. The tress are here, and on the other sides in the valley. In the middle there is little more than a windmill.

"Then we shall move quickly and without drawing attention. The less time we spend in the area, the better."

"Agreed, lets hurry along and get past this area and the Devil as quickly as possible."
The dwarven paladin says while keeping a watch on the group and their surroundings.

Well, you needed to got to the camp, so we will take the low road for right now - we can deal with the rest of the travel later.

Ismark leads the way down the path to Tser Pool with Bazim in stride in the front. A raven caws, and most of your attention is drawn to the trees from the sudden shattered silence.

But Urrnir's attention is drawn to the gallows at the crossroads. She hears a creaking noise behind her, coming from the gallows. Where there was nothing before now hangs a lifeless, gray body. The breeze turns the hanged figure slowly, so that it can fix its dead eyes upon her. Staring back at Urrnir is her reflection, dead and lifeless hanging from a noose.

Emron shudders at the caw of the ravens. Unnerving, isn't? He continues walking, but notices Urrnir's gaze. He turns around, and his eyes widen. By the gods...

Urrnir stares, horrified, at the figure. She swallows hard and only manages to stammer something about an ill omen.

"Are you ok Urrnir? What ails you?"

Can we also see what Urrnir sees, or is it just a vision for her?

also curious if it is just a vision

[ooc]If it's a vision, adjust my speech to:[/b]
Uh? Urrnir? What are ya staring at?

When Emron, Bazim, and the rest turn they see a pale man dressed in typical garb of the villagers of Barovia hanging from the old noose and gallows. After a moment, the head separates from the body and the two fall onto the platform with a loud thud, like meat dropped onto a counter.

Urrnir has the same experience, but with her own body falling to the platform.

"Lovely. Canna this place get anymore creepy...Urrnir, whats wrong girl? Your all white and trembling."

Bazim moves over to her to see if she is ok.

Urrnir recovers herself and pushes the sight deep into her mind. "I'm fine" she states with her grim mask placed on her face once again. "We should get moving again."

1d20 ⇒ 16

The path's condition worsens and the trees close against the side as you travel down the slopes to Tser Pool. You hear soft whispering words in between the trees asking you to come closer, but you choose to listen to the lump in your throat and push forward.

The road gradually disappears and is replaced by a twisted, muddy path through the trees. Deep ruts in the earth are evidence of the comings and goings of wagons.

The canopy of mist and branches suddenly gives way to black clouds boiling far above. There is a clearing here, next to a river that widens to form a small lake several hundred feet across. Five colorful round tents, each ten feet in diameter, are pitched outside a ring of four barrel-topped wagons. A much larger tent stands near the shore of the lake, its sagging form lit from within. Near this tent, eight unbridled horses drink from the river.

The mournful strains of an accordion clash with the singing of several brightly clad figures around bonfire. A footpath continues beyond this encampment, meandering north between the river and the forest's edge.

Emron turns to Ismark and Ireena.
Do you think they are travelers like us or some vile monsters made by that demon?
He stays away from the clearing.

"What sane mind would make camp in these woods?" The question was rheorical so she let it simply hang in the air unanswered.

Do I recognize anything about this scene?
Knowledge?: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17

Ismark says, These are the Vistani in their element. For some reason the Devil's ire never is drawn to them, and they freely celebrate in this foggy lands. I don't know why they stay here, but there is a permanent camp at this river and another past Vallaki.

Ireena places her hand on her sword, I hear they sold their humanity to the Devil in exchange for safety. I hear they know how to survive the mists somehow.

I've been laid out and Paizo's site has been flakey, sorry for that. Let me give a refresher on where you are:

From Donnovich at the church:

Turning to Urrnir's hand he says, How did you manage to dig a grave with such an injury? It's stable and clean - but I cannot fix this with my meager faith. I have heard the Vistani have a power much greater. I must warn you it comes at a cost, and it is always a deal favoring them. A family of those damned gypsies owns the Blood of the Vine Inn in the town center.

From the Vistani that run the tavern:

Urrnir attracts a lot of attention from the three women, two of whom stand and approach, Let's see what the damage is... oh that is something way beyond my abilities, but I know where you can get someone to help you. Madam Eva has anchored her vardo near Tsolenka Falls - seeing the lack of recognition she adds, If you take the road west of the village and then the trail north to the water you can't miss it. If you reach the bridge over the falls you went the wrong way.

Urrnir thinks on this. Rubbing her hand, which was by now thoroughly sore and angry red, she says "If that is so then I wish to speak with them. I will go alone, if need be; none of you need join me."

Emron grumbles. If ya wish. He still draws his sword, and keeps an eye on Urrnir's position.

Urrnir approaches the out of place reverie when a large man with wild eyes and only slightly groom beard stands at the edge of the camp and stares silently for a moment before beaming a wide smile and saying, Droboy tume - it's good to see you, mora! Come, sit and rest by the fire we have wine and music. Did you manage to travel these lands alone, or are there others? It's not safe to travel alone.

Assuming Urrnir shows her hand he says, Marel ma o Del! Come sit, eat. I will go consult with Madam Eva. And he bounds off across the camp shouting a couple things as he goes. The others don't seem to pay him any mind and continue to drink and listen to the music played by an old man sporting a fine pipe.

I'll give it a little time if anyone wants to act, then continue.

Bazim looks over at Urrnir.

"You know these people? Should we be safe with them?"

Urrnir is surprised but she follows along carefully with the mans instructions.

"I can't recall meeting any of them" she says, shaking her head. "How can people as spirited as this exist in these lands?"

Ireena say curtly, The Vistani must have some deal with the Devil to live so freely in his shadow, but they are care-free because they are not hunted by his wolves. They are just another of his servants.

Ismark tries to cool her down a bit, It is true they hold special privilege, there are rumors that the fog that prevents our departure from this land seems to not effect them. I can't explain why, but they also do let the wine flow from the Wizard of Wines out this way and offer their services. We are their guests, and while we stay here we will not be harmed - but maybe watch any loose gold or tongues...

The vistani sitting and drinking offer seats on low benches or clean logs, and each person in the party is greeted as warmly as the last. Anyone that seeks wine or food finds it freely given. You hear some of the men thinking they are out of earshot make comments on each of your relative attractiveness, Ireena receiving high marks while Bazim and Emron's parents are disparaged - but it's no better or worse than the tavern talk in a rough neighborhood of your homeland.

The old man playing music ends his song and the crowd suddenly falls quieter. The old man stands and stretches and ashes his pipe before speaking in a heavy accent, Bi kashtesko merel i yag, and with the wine we drink we must also learn the lessons of the elders that grew the vines. We have guests to amaro baro them, and while I cannot place youth onto this interesting pair it seems that today is a good lesson of recent times for most sitting here - after all we have many stories of visitors to this land.

A mighty wizard came to this land over a year ago. I remember him like it was yesterday. He stood exactly where you're standing. A very charismatic man, he was. He thought he could rally the people of Barovia against the devil Strahd. He stirred them with thoughts of revolt and bore them to the castle en masse.

He throws a sand into the fire and it burns a deep red with shadowy people with raised pitchforks.

When the vampire appeared, the wizard's peasant army fled in terror. A few stood their ground and were never seen again.

More sand, and now a shadow swallows the crowd and the fire dies for a moment before returning to a typical orange glow.

The wizard and the vampire cast spells at each other. Their battle flew from the courtyards of Ravenloft to a precipice overlooking the falls. I saw the battle with my own eyes. Thunder shook the mountainside, and great rocks tumbled down upon the wizard, yet by his magic he survived. Lightning from the heavens struck the wizard, and again he stood his ground. But when the devil Strahd fell upon him, the wizard's magic couldn't save him. I saw him thrown a thousand feet to his death. I climbed down to the river to search for the wizard's body, to see if, you know, he had anything of value, but the River Ivlis had already spirited him away.

He punctuates the story beats by pointing to the foggy area behind him and to the sky, and when he finishes the story he points to the quickly moving clear water next to the camp.

Anyways, the land is old and we must remember the lessons of the past, and as he finishes speaking he stares intently at Urrnir.

A door to a wagon opens, and a tiny old woman walks out with the help of a cane. Her white hair is tightly pulled up and not moving in the slight breeze, I hear we have a young woman in need of help, I do not mean to interrupt Yesper but it seems her hand is badly wounded and I wish to speak with our guests.

I'll give it a little time if anyone wants to act, then continue.

Bazim listens to the old man's story intently. He remains very courteous and even drinks and eats some of the offered refreshments. When the old woman enters the circle, he stands and bows.

"My lady. If you could assist our companion, I would be much in your debt."

Come inside, my goods are in there.

Her wagon is larger than the others, and old. The inside is furnished with a wide variety of antiques, their clashing style gives the impression she has collected them for their meaning beyond their worth. Her sitting room in this wagon leaves little room for a group, but there is a seat for everyone there in front of the linen covered table she has moved behind.

Please, girl, let me see the wound, staring at the now dirty and quite painful injury she says, Nothing Madam Eva cannot fix! But first I must discuss my price... I am an old woman who possesses everything I could want, so my interests do not lie in money. For a wound like this, I simply ask for you to read your fortune - your true fortune - on these cards.

She lays out an ancient looking set of cards with elaborate backings. It is bound by a golden clasp with no obvious mechanism to open it, If you agree, simply place a drop of your blood on this clasp and I can use the power of these cards to tell you of your future - a future that could use any help it can get to face Lord Stahd should it come to it.

Simply put, does Urrnir accept the offer?

Emron goes to the camp, laughing along and telling jokes with the rest. When they get to the story, Emron looks deep in thought. When he goes to the wagon and sees the cards, he becomes a bit suspicious.

Urrnir eyes the old woman hard, scrutinizing her. Searching her face for the slightest sign of deception.

"Why have you interest in my future?" she finally asks.

Urrnir Insight: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Madam Eva says, When you have lived as long as I have you will understand, I am interested in keeping my mind sharp and paying attention to my surroundings. If I simply stayed put with my things then I would lose a reason to wake up in the morning!

Please don't over think this - I am a fortune teller, and I live to continue to tell fortunes to the bold.

You do not detect malice in her intent, and you think she is telling the truth. She's certainly a wily woman, but you see no reason to think anything bad will come of this.

"Fine" says Urrnir after a while. Really, there was no other option it seemed. She begrudgingly provides the blood.

She says, As you wish, my dear. Please sit.

She begins by separating the cards into two piles with different backings, then she lays out a delicate and old lacy cloth that has a pattern of the sun and moon woven into the fibers.

She draws the first card from the larger deck with a black backing and speaks in a strange dual-tone voice, This card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancient will help you better understand your enemy.

Laying the card flat you see the number two in the corner along with a strange symbol on the opposite corner. It shows the face of a gaunt man with his eye downcast in reverence while holding a holy book of some kind, Madam Eva continues, I see a garden dusted with snow, watched over by a scarecrow with a sackcloth grin. Look not to the garden, but to the guardian.

She draws a second card from the black deck saying, This card tells of a powerful force for good and protection, a holy symbol of great hope.

Laying the card above and to the side of the first you see the number 7 with a star on the opposite corner. The face on the card shows a wizard or sorcerer holding a painting over half his face showing a different, terrible face wreathed with menacing light, A man is not what he seems. He comes here in a carnival wagon. Therein lies what you seek.

She draws a third card from the black deck and places it symmetric to the first saying, This is a card of power and strength. It tells of a weapon of vengeance: a sword made from sunlight stolen from the sky.

The card reveals a fat and wealthy noble dropping a tithing of coins into a hefty purse, Our people have what you seek under lock and key. Pursue the ripples on still water to find the key to what you seek.

She takes a card from the small deck with a grey back with silver filigree saying, This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness.

She places a card down revealing a horned man sitting proudly on an ebony throne. You swear the figure moves it hands as Madam Eva falls silent for a time. A thin trickle of blood flows from her nose and her voice cracks as she speaks, Your fates are cursed, the worst of truths. You must face the evil of this land alone!

The lamps lighting the wagon flicker as she chooses another card, Your enemy is a creature of darkness, whose powers are beyond mortality. This card will lead to him.

She places the card face up in the center of the other four, completing a cross shape, He lurks around one of his prized treasures, a room adorned in the bones of a fearsome foe; a hall of bones deep in the dark pits of his castle.

The light returns to normal as Madam Eva gathers the cards back together and the clasp leaps from her hand to secure the cards. She speaks, That wasn't so bad, though I don't know any magical sword among my people. Now relax, I will make you whole once more.

She slowly walks to the back room and returns with an ornate brass pillar she places on the table after sweeping the lace away. She begins a short chant as she spins the pillar on a hidden axle while poring a clear liquid on its top. The letters carved in the pillar glow with a magical light until she ends her chant and stops the device suddenly with her hands. The glow from the letters flash and when your vision clears you see her hands now glow the same color.

She stands carefully not touching anything, and lays her hands on you. Your body suddenly feels uncomfortably hot, and the feeling of pins and needles runs across your skin. She says, It should only take a few minutes, but your hand will be better than it has been in years! She laughs a little, I wish you well on your adventures, don't be afraid to come back when you have interesting stories to share.

Looking at your hand you see the missing chunk of your hand is knitting itself together fast enough to see, though it will take a few minutes. If you check scars you previously has you find them removed as you body heals every injury you have ever received.

Urrnir sits silently, staring at her new flesh, flexing it to familiarize herself with the feeling once again. Truthfully, she didn't know whether to be grateful or horrified. In the end she settles for a mixture of both.

Eventually she collects her composure and starts to speak:

"If you could allow me to bother you for one question longer, please" she says. "You said our fates our cursed. I-"

"I see things, madame. Hear things, feel things that I don't understand. I was born in Barovia and have spent my entire life in its borders. I know it like it was a part of me. The buildings, the forest, the roads. Yet I feel now as if I am stranger, for I do not know the people or recognize the land. I see its features the same, yet the contents are somehow foreign to me now."

"And I feel that this is somehow not new, that this has been the case for some time. Yet I cannot explain, for when I try to set my mind to that feeling I find I have no cause to feel it. Sometimes I feel I remember pieces. As if to see a scene on a stage a second time, only to have the players change."

Urrnir searches for something further, but finds that she can't quite put her feeling into a simple question. Instead she stands up and reaches into her bag, drawing out a piece of cloth and placing it on the table. The cloth is a piece of a Barovian banner, something that has been well cared for even as time has caused the colors to fade. She makes to leave the wagon, turning back to offer a last "thank you".

Outside she returns to her companions, flexing her hand one last time before gripping her glaive again with renewed vigor. "We should rest her tonight" she says, nodding to Ismark and Ireena. "We can start moving again at first light tomorrow."

Upon leaving the tent, Emron puts his sword down on the ground, turning it over in his hands and looking it over in a new light. Weapon of vengeance, eh? But vengeance upon whom? The one who has slain my friends, or the devil who makes these people suffer? Or are they one and the same?