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Austria, 1536 hours, local time. It is raining, a cold, miserable rain, when you arrive at the borders of Barovia. You are dropped off by an Austrian border patrol who explain, in heavily accented English, that this is as far as they go and that they regularly patrol the border. The officer hands you a satellite radio phone. "When your mission is complete, get to the border and call us. We cannot enter the borders of Barovia without risking a declaration of war, but we can meet you here for pickup. Intelligence has provided knowledge that a small village called Barovia lies at the end of that road," he says, indicating an overgrown track that leads into the woods. "Good luck."
Barovia, 1705 hours, local time. The woods are thick, but the track is clear enough and you begin your trek without comment. The rain continues as a slow drizzle, seeping into your clothing and gear. After several hours, you come upon a small building. With the dying of daylight, a fog creeps across the land, clutching everything within its clammy grasp. A thin trail of smoke rises from the chimney of the lone building and the smell of home-cooked food entices you forward. A sign above the main door depicts a timeworn and very weary-looking nag of a horse.
what have I gotten myself into, one minute I’m getting off of a plane in Veinna the next the mysterious Mr. Black is telling me he’s read my file and the only chance of finding Mrs. Gimbal is to head into Barovia with this team of men who might be able to get her out. He failed to mention it was part of a coup attempt. Legitimately this ”von Zarovich” sounds like a real nutcase, so I don’t mind watching their backs if it gets Maggie out of whatever mess she’s gotten herself into.
Father Patrick follows behind Jon, the quiet upstate New Yorker, the rain was a little bothersome but he was staying dry in his three quarter length leather coat and his fedora. He had refused to wear ”military cloths” just to walk around in; so he had on his own casual outfit with his collar and cross. Though he had taken the precautions to put on the shoulder holster and sig, and of course he carried his lucky brass knuckles in one pocket and the taser in the other. He also broke down the shotgun and concealed it in the pack with the other items.
As they proceeded down the road to what appears to be a small inn or restaurant, trying to read the sign in the rain, Patrick asks the team.
”Do we go in and act like lost tourists or do we look around and sleep in a barn somewhere?”
Kolya eyes the rest of the group as they trudge through the low mist. He had remained quiet on the journey here, but noted with interest that they had a priest amongst their number, a priest who like the Russian had forgone wearing the military fatigues they had been issued. The other two had the bearing of military types and the payloads on their backs to match.
I vas a foot soldjier of Bratva. I vear my uniform on my skin, nyet on my back...
He still had carried the outfits, as was required by the Agency fixer's instructions, but hoped to avoid wearing them if at all possible.
The blocky criminal stopped momentarily and light one of his Sobraine Black Russian cigarettes.
"Ve are tourists ov a sort komrade, Da?"
Kolya flashes a hard smile at the others.
Kaitlin, dressed in street clothing, shrugs. "Better to look like tourists than a goon squad," she says in accented English. "Less chance of frightening the locals this way." She flashes a disarming smile.
"You know, those things will kill you," she comments to Kolya.
I think Kolya would frighten the locals, anywhere, heck in a uniform he may be less frightening, at least then they would know he would have to answer to someone.
Father Patrick smiles at Kaitlin's comments about goon squads and cigarettes, he approaches Kolya looking up and slapping the Russians broad shoulder he says
"all things in moderation, right my fellow tourist"
During the ride in Jon is quiet, and seems to spend most of the time fiddling with his gear, and is wearing the forest fatigues provided. As soon as the patrol starts driving off, he reaches into his duffel, and pulls out a mesh over tunic, and spends a minute hooking odds and ends onto it. You recognize it as a professional grade ghillie suit, and Jon appears to know how to wear it properly. His bearing and movement patterns scream military at an unconscious level, and his attire proclaims him nothing less than a goon.
With a friendly smile, he looks up to the other three.
"While I like the idea of posing as a tourist, I've never had much luck lying through my teeth to border guards. That said, I'll hang back, and keep an eye on your backs. I think these mic's are good enough that it you keep them a hat, or your collar, we can still communicate nicely. That said, it's better to be sure, than to guess, so I'll just disappear and see if they work well enough."
You may have thought he was kidding for a moment, until he stepped into the brush and ... faded away.
"Let me know if you can hear me."
He travels about 50 yards into the woods, and is carrying the case in one hand, and the tranq gun in the other. While moving, he's also looking for a place to securely stash the case. If the area is 4 square miles, he's looking for a place not within 2 miles of the border, and is going to be picky (Spot, Take 20 = 29).
Not immediately realizing what Jon was referring too, he remembered the communication system they were given quick instructions on. Dropping his rucksack he quickly retrieves the earpiece and microphone from a side pocket and attaches it to his ear and collar tucking the wiring under his shirt and putting the battery in his pocket. satisfied he re-shoulders his pack.
it reminds me of the lapel mike I wear when I am preaching
hearing Jon's broadcast he presses the button under his collar,
"loud and clear, I assume you want to wait outside while we go in the Inn?"
"Yeah... It may be best to pretend I don't exist for the time being. I'll look for a safe spot to camp out where I can conceal a few supplies. I most likely will need to make a couple trips in closer. The Agency definitely didn't want us wanting in supplies, but it makes it difficult to move cautiously. If you want, I can ferry a few items for you three closer in as well. I figure I'll be spending at least a couple hours getting set up, so try not to get into too much trouble right off the bat."
You can almost hear the smile in his voice with that last comment.
Jon's plan. Find a safe place to cache the duffel and travel case within the first quarter mile. He'll be picky. Secret the two things, spend time camouflaging them (Take 20), and then move to get closer to the team. He'll keep to the woods, and try and find a higher vantage point to keep watch from during the day, and several other likely places to move the cached kits to closer to town. When it gets dark, he'll swap fatigues, and alter the ghillie suit's camo to match at appropriate. If he thinks he's alerted anyone to his presence, his default response is to freeze, and if that doesn't work, he'll consider using the tranq gun.
Civilians. Oh well, they need babysitting, just like anyone else. I wish the agency hadn't been so paranoid with the gear load, but most likely we'll be glad they over compensated later... now, to move everything into place.
well no need to stand out in the cold
thinking for a moment Patrick presents an idea to Kaitlin and Kolya
"the easiest lies to remember are the ones closest to the truth. We were all in Vienna wanting to rent a car to go to Barovia. Hearst rental only had one vehicle, a Saab. We all shared the tab, it was 13 euro apiece. Kolya drove, I slept. Don't know your reason for going there, I didn't ask. Car broke down back there. we've been walking in the rain for..."
He looks at his watch
"...feels like several hours. Remember Veinna, Hurst, Saab and 13 euro. You have your own reasons for going just like I do. Any questions?"
Not waiting to see if they do, Patrick turns and walks up to the door
if I stop moving now I may be too afraid to start moving again
He looks for any signs that may give him more information and then he opens the door and stepping inside looks around.
Kolya looks at the cigarette in his tattooed hand and wryly smiles;
”Death has tried to claim me before tovarisch…”
At Jon’s comms question the Russian gives a short ”Ja” and a thumbs up.
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The interior of the small inn is warm and inviting, the warmth of the fire beckons to you. The patrons are another matter, and most stare at you a little boldly, but they seem content to keep to their own company. The room is fairly quiet, holding no more than a handful of customers. They keep their voices low, and even the clink of their mugs seems subdued as the fog gathers outside. When the door swings open, every head turns to see who has arrived.
Kolya takes a long draw as he listens to the priests plan;
"Da. Ve travel together... 13 Euros a head for that kusók der'má Saab!"
Getting into the story the blocky Russian shakes his head in disbelief and spits;
"Tsch! These damn Austrians are true kriminals!"
Kolya smiles cynically and walks into the inn after the Sariel.
Lead on Bathyushka...
As he enters the place, the tattooed enforcer allows the cloak of habit to envelope him as he scrutinises the patrons and staff before the travellers;
:
Kaitlin follows Patrick and the Russian in, keeping her head low and taking a seat near the fire.
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maybe I misread this one, he comes off so gruff, probably the result of a rough childhood, I wonder if he boxes
Father Patrick nods his head at the polite Russian; following Kaitlin's lead to the small table and chairs made from bended wood near the fireplace, removing his pack and placing it against the side of the fireplace he sits down with his back to the door, letting Koyla have the chair facing the door and majority of the room.
wow the heat feels good, I wonder how Jon is doing, Koyla will recognize trouble quicker than I, so he needs to see the door
Patrick nods at the bartender and orders
"Großer Brauner, please,"
then switching to German he asks
"Was ist die Küche, die heute Abend"
"What is the kitchen serving this evening?"
Wait, default response ... was in English? That's odd. The three of them didn't scream American, or even British. We've only just arrived, and already this place feels ... odd. No detailed history on the place, it's only a couple square miles, no guards or patrols, so was there a coup? revolution? I don't remember hearing anything.... And there's a Castle? I HAVE to get a good look at that. First order of business though, is find a place to secure the goods, and make a hidden camp. Night's going to fall quickly, and it's already gloomy. Lets see what I can find.
Jon continues to slowly move through the brush, taking 10 on hide and move silently, and 20 on spot checks for a good place for either himself and a tiny camp, or just a place to hide his bag and/or box.
The Russian takes in the people and the place;
A quiet place. Good. Perhaps they will tell us more of this Strahd. It is good to have the measure of a man before you kill him...
Kolya too dumps his pack and carry bag, before settling himself into the chair offered as the barkeep enquires after them;
"Ein russischer Kaffee?"
A Russian coffee?
our dress is odd? This has been the traditional clothing for more that a hundred years
Father Patrick took quizzically at the bar keep and then orders
"beef stew and bread please, I would enjoy coffee if possible if not just water to drink for now."
Kaitlin also orders a water and the beef stew and bread.
big red flag, not familiar with coffee, what is going on
Father Patrick smiles realizing the double meaning
" it is brewed my good man, and served hot. It is wonderful on a cold evening such as this, the stew should do the trick though."
turning to his companions he says softly
that is interesting an Austrian who has never heard of coffee?
Kolya also orders stew, but with a beer. As the barkeep retires with their order he leans toward his comrades - matching Sariel's hushed tone:
"Da. Most strange... He vas neit lying... Koffee is a unknown here in Barovia"
The Russian leans back and produces his pack of Sobraine Black Russian cigarettes and lighter from inside his coat.
"Smoke? Help yourselves"
all things in moderation
Father Patrick accepts the cigarette and putting it behind his ear he says
"don't mind if I do, with your permission I will save it for after dinner, and smoke it while I enjoy a Bavarian pilsner
looking around the crowd
"We should let the crowd filter out a little, then maybe we can gather a little information. It looks like they have rooms here, would you rather sleep in a bed or out in a tent?"
knowing his own preference he asks the question anyway
Kolya shrugs as he lights his nicotine stick;
"Room vor me. After Vhite Swan I always choose sheets..."
The Russian's eyes harden for a moment as his thoughts wander, then return to the room;
"Soljer boy outside may prever tent tho..."
"He can have it," Kaitlin shrugs. "What concerns me more is the fact that our host doesn't seem to understand German. What kind of people are these Barovians?"
"He's already got it covered. The Language and a lack of knowledge of Coffee of all things... That's been around for a couple centuries! I'm going to take a peek at the outside of the Castle after getting settled."
why does he know English and not German
turning to Koyla, Patrick asks
Koyla when he returns with your beer would you ask him a question in Russian and see if he understand any of it
we need to get some information, we don't know what we don't know
when the bartender comes back with the food Father Patrick will attempt to engage him in conversation. As he serves the soup Patrick asks:
"The sign says inn, do your really have rooms to rent or is that a marketing tool like they use in the states. It is a lovely building do you know how old it is?"
hoping the bartender bites at a couple of the questions so he can make further inquiries.
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Prompted with Patrick's query, he answers, "Yes, we have rooms. Five silver moons per room per night. We have four rooms available. If you prefer, you may stay here in the common room for only two pieces of silver.
"This inn has been in my family for four generations. It was established in 318, by my great-grandfather." There is no pride in his voice, as might be expected.
"Anyone else feel like our briefing was ... a little TOO brief? Nothing is making ANY sense here. 318? 4 generations? Silver moons? These are the sorts of things that are found out BEFORE sending in an elimination squad. Someone talked to these people, or we wouldn't know that they were being repressed by a Dictator.... Why couldn't some of the basics have been picked up, like a non Euro currency?"
You can almost hear irritation in Jon's whispered words in your ears as he continues to stealthily move through the woods.
"We're not in Kansas anymore, that's for sure. It's almost like we've stumbled into an episode of the Twilight Zone. I mean, they don't speak the language, they don't use Euros, they don't know what coffee is...
"Maybe the briefing is wrong. Were we lied to? Who did they get their information from? Maybe they were lied to?"
well I always said I believe in the supernatural and there is a lot we do not understand
Thank you my good man
As he dismisses the bartender he tries to determine the bartenders honesty and then carefully looks around to determine if the setting would fit the middle of the sixth century
Maybe we stumbled on a theme park and this guy is just in character
Patrick looks around the room looking for anything that would indicate costumes or theatrics instead of actual antique items.
after the bartender serves the food and returns to the bar he contacts Jon quietly on the radio
"Jon do you see anything associated with the 20th century, rubber tire tracks on the road, garages instead of barns, are there livestock in the barns, if there are horses are there saddles? that early there would be not stirrups."
Patrick takes a moment to look at the soup to see if there are any vegetables associated with the "new world" potatoes or corn or tomatoes
Kolya splits time between a gulp of his beer and then a puff of his Black Russian, mulling the scenario. He quietly nods to himself and addresses his companions;
"Zhere is vun other possibilty moi tovarishchi... Vun ve are overlooking..."
With a hard smile the burly Russian stands up and claps slowly;
Dobriy! Dobriy! Good! Good! Zilver Moons?; 318?; Hah... Zuch attention to detail. Your costumes and trappings.... Qvite the test! Da?"
As the patrons keep up the perceived pretence, Kolya's mood beings to change from playful accusation to something harder, more edgy.
He leans in toward his fellow travellers with a harsh whisper;
"It is a test - from thze Agency Da? Do ve play along? Or maybe I tvist an arm... see if tonguez are loosened..."
Father Patrick leans over to the gentle giant Russian and hisses
"Stay calm my friend, whether these be extra's in a bad movie or if the supernatural is in play here there is no reason to harm innocents or draw unwanted attention to ourselves, especially if it may draw unwanted "official" attention."
as the bartender asks for payment Father Patrich reaches into his pocket pulling out ten euro coins in 1 and 2 eruo denominations responding to the request for payment he answers showing him the coins handing him the largest denomination.
"We are obviously foreigners, I have silver and gold coins here, I assume one gold coin with silver on the edge will do?"
"I'm not 100% sold on them being actors, and even if they are, I'd play along. Generally the Agency doesn't give kill orders and live ammo for training exercises.... I'll go nose around, I found a decent hiding spot for my bag/case, so I can move a bit faster. So FAR, I've seen nothing that contradicts the setting presented to us..."
Taking 10 on hide/MS, I'll go quietly ghost around town, keeping to the shadows, and fitting on the night vision goggles, and using them as soon as the light warrants. I'll start at the outskirts, and work inward, opting for stealth over anything else.
Having flown into England and transferring to a plane going to Vienna Father Patrick answer in all honest.
The coins were made that way to prevent filing. As to where we hail from; my fathers people were Anglo Saxon my mothers Celtic. I have traveled here from Londinium by way of Vienna. These coins were acquired in Londinium and accepted in Vienna and everywhere I have traveled in between there and here. Pray tell what is this the name of this barony, I thought we were traveling in Bourgogne, who is your local potentate?"
Kolya impassively watches as the barkeep and priest interplay. His shakes his head slightly muttering under his breath;
"I lose my patience. Vun vay to test the mettle of these folk... Let us see if they recognise an instrument of death..."
The Russian reaches inside his jacket and produces his Marakov .32 Pistol and places it casually beside his beer and packet of cigarettes.
WhtKnt