It is hard to tell the time of day. Even without the fog there is a bleak greyness to the sky. Like a permanent overcast after a hard rain. he muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance.
Sven keeps going until he finds either a pub or similar, or someone they can ask for directions.
Redemption paused. The warforged was familiar enough with familiars being used as spies to be concerned. "I don't wish to alarm people, but that bird seems to be watching us." The druid considered. "I'm aware this sounds odd."
"Not really, my friend" Sven answers, looking upwards to check the raven and urging the others to walk faster. "Where I come from, our chief good uses two ravens as spies and messengers. And that one there doesn't seem like it has a message for us."
"It's just a stupid bird, with it all starin' and such. Weird bird. Don't think one like that tastes good though, probably got the disease and such," the tiefling says as she puts the crossbow on her shoulder and walks nonchalantly with the group, "You folk be alright if a bunch of weird folk.... do anyone hear a sob?"
"A sob?"[b] Blaze asked. She cocked her ears, swiveling them this way and that. [b]"No, I don't."
Realizing that Shandi and Redemption were still carrying many hurts, Blaze offered up the magical healing potion that Sven had told her to hang on to. "One of you should drink this," she said, "we don't know what dangers the day may yet bring."
Thank you, Blaze. It doesn't help me, I think. Just a long rest and a good sleep. Shandi looks pale and often stops to catch her breath, but you don't see her wounds.
"Maybe a bit of resting would be in order, yeah" Sven says, more than happy to be able to engrave more runes after a short nap.
"With no better clues, the town seems as good a destination as any other. Perhaps they will have suggestions on how to return you all to your own homes as well as a place to rest." Redemption glanced at the spying bird again, but with no better options in sight, headed for the town.
A solitary figure moves with alacrity through the stony corridors of a castle. Bursting through a massive door, the figure pauses before stepping out into the early evening darkness that is rapidly closing in on the courtyard in front of him.
Outside, light snow falls. The clouds overhead still rumble with thunder, despite the cold.
The figure moves across different courtyards, the stony curtain of the castle walls always near him. Soon the courtyard gives way to an overlook, and the figure peers down to a sad looking village far below this mountain-top redoubt. Steepling his fingers, the figure slowly nods to himself as he looks down upon the forlorn village.
Suddenly turning away from the overlook and back to his castle, the figure once again enters. Seeing a stunted figure limping through a corridor ahead, he calls out. "Find Rahadin, and tell him to have the carriage prepared in the morning. I mean to make a brief visit to the village. It seems there are...visitors there."
The stunted figure replies "yes, m'Lord, will that be all?"
"Tell Rahadin this: I expect there to be a funeral tomorrow. Our visit will coincide with this, and I plan to pay my respects."
The cobble stone streets are damp and slick as daylight rapidly wanes. The cold drizzle has given way to a light snow.
The village is largely silent (though the silence is occasionally punctuated by a single, wailing voice coming from a nearby house). You do occasionally note a person walking quickly down one of the streets, usually at a distance. If they acknowledge any of you at all, it's usually a quick look before heading off the opposite way until they reach the front door of a house.
There is one place that might be welcoming. The warmth and light of a fire pour from a window, and a sign reads "The Blood of the Vine Tavern."
"Finally!" Sven exclaims with a big smile on his face. The prospective of wines and spirits with some bits of smoked bacon or a good stew seems to him like the Kingdom of Heavens after all what they've been through. "C'mon, friends! Let's move out of this gloomy weather outside and enjoy the warmth of the fireplace for the first time in who knows how much time" he says while entering the tavern and having a look around.
Finally! Shandi, barely moving her legs from fatigue, slightly accelerates her step in order to quickly find herself in a more normal place than the house in which they wandered for so long, fighting various horrors.
Blaze trotted along with the others into the eerie village. She was about to ask if all human settlements were so unfriendly, but realized that the answer was probably along the lines of "nothing is usual in this place". She wasn't as excited as the others to go into the tavern - they had just gotten out of a labyrinthine building, and she was happy to be out in the fresh air.
However, compromises had to be made when travelling with two-legs, so she resignedly followed the others to the tavern. "Blood of the Vine?" she couldn't help commenting. "I hope that's a figure of speech."
"This place be raisin' the airs you know," she says, hiding behind the centaur as she was seemingly pretty terrified of the place. What strange place this was, partially reminding her of her own home, though on a far smaller scale. She was natural coward after all, wishing that she could be anywhere but here at the moment. Back home even at this hour there'd be plenty of people and sounds in the air, not this almost dead silence, only their steps on the cobblestone.
When she saw the tavern however, her mood began to change, "O' the good ol' near and far. We be makin' the flying squad work overtime tonight."
As you step into the tavern, you note that there may have been a time when it was richly appointed. Times have apparently been tough, and now "shoddy" might be an appropriate word for the building and furnishings nowadays.
Three locals, all women, sit near the door. A barkeep listlessly cleans glasses behind the bar. A lonely man sits at the end of the bar.
There is roaring blaze in the fireplace.
Shandi pats her pockets. I wonder how I should pay for drinks, food and overnight accommodation? Nevertheless, she confidently walks forward and addresses the bartender. Greetings to you. I'm Shandi Zelz'ah of Metrol. This is my friends and we are travelers who have lost our way. Please tell me the name of this village and who is the lord here. And perhaps you know how far it is to Cyre?
Sven nods while Shandi talks, and when she finishes her adds "and beer for everyone."
"Hope we have en ouef for some frank skinner," spoke the tiefling as she waltzed into the tavern. It was clear that she was meaning that she was hungry in the strange way of speaking that she used and inquired about dinner. She'd hopped behind the Shandi and Sven asking her own questions.
Velspira cleared her throat, "In the nudes too," asking about food, "Thee know where Baldur's Gate is?"
Blaze follows the others through the doorway, being careful with her long, equine body. Fortunately the inn was not crowded - there were few things that made Blaze more uncomfortable than having to navigate inside space crowded with two-legs. They always got too close, and were surprised when a foot was stepped on by a heavy hoof.
As Sven orders beer, Blaze smiles. That's a thought she could get behind. She hoped the humans had a local brew that was strong and tasty. The idea of payment didn't cross her mind. Such a thing was unknown among the centaurs. Everybody had their role in the herd, and were provided for. It wasn't until she'd started travelling with Malaya that she'd learned that philosophy was fairly unique among peoples.
Edging up to an empty table, Blaze stood quietly, focusing on keeping her tail still. Humans didn't seem to appreciate a tail being swung into their food and drink.
The bartender quietly replies, "uhhh, no beer, only wine. One copper piece. Or, I pour you pitcher for one silver. You drink!"
He seems to ignore your questions about location.
The man sitting at the end of the bar speaks. "Arik, pour them a pitcher, I will pay." Turning to all of you, he says "would you care to join me at a table? You appear to be lost. Perhaps I can try to be helpful."
"Sure!" Sven answers, smiling and walking to the stranger's table. "And thank you! Next one's on us!"
Of course, he expects a total stranger in a totally unknown place to be perfectly kind and altruist. "What could possibly go wrong?"
Blaze made her way carefully through the empty tables, and greeted the stranger. "I am Blaze," she said, inclining her head respectfully. "This "wine" - I am unfamiliar with it. What is it made from?" Her people fermented honey, and Malaya had introduced her to fermented grains. She hoped this didn't have anything to do with blood, as the inn's name suggested.
The man replies, "why, grapes of course! There is no blood in this wine, and I am certain that Arik will confirm that for us!"
With that, Arik the bartender wrinkles his forehead and says "blood? No blood in wine. Just...wine...in wine."
The generous stranger continues, "I am Ismark, and I am the son of the burgomeister of this village, may he rest in peace. You are in Barovia. The wine? It comes from a winery about a days' walk from here--The Wizard of Wines winery."
Shandi comes to the table and nods.
I've never heard of such a country, Barovia. What continent are we on? Have we been transported to Sarlona? Hmmm. I repeat my question. How far is it to Cyre? Maybe you have portals here ... however, the ship will also suit us. And tell me please about this Barovia of yours while we are still here and have not sailed to the other lands.
"Sorry for your loss" is what Sven barely manages to say between sips of wine. He wonders how the heck have they all appeared here. Then he remembers the mist. "Has it been misty around here today or yesterday? I remember being surrounded by mist and appearing next to a house the next day..."
"Barovia, wot ding dong bell kind of drum and bass is it, ain't be no Sword Coast drinking the wine in a rough manner. She was far and away removed from sophistication. The drops would spill partially down the chin, wiped by her arm, "A haunted bobby brown, that be sure."[/b]
She seemed to be speaking of the town and the haunted feeling that was around it, "So you want us to do a corn on a cob. Why gave us all in the nude, don't mind it though. It be good," speaks, referring potentially to them being requested for a job of some kind.
Blaze wrinkled her forehead, trying to understand what Velspira was saying. The goat-woman often spoke in riddles, but this seemed extreme. Perhaps she was very susceptible to this fermented grape drink. The centaur sipped hers cautiously. She didn't want to start speaking nonsense.
As for where Barovia was compared to where she'd come from...Blaze didn't much care. She'd been travelling, and still was, and that was fine. They were in a new place, and perhaps there were more adventures to be had. Echoing Shandi, she said, "Is Barovia this village, or the wider land? The people here seemed frightened, is everything ok here?"
Shandi comes to the table and nods.
I've never heard of such a country, Barovia. What continent are we on? Have we been transported to Sarlona? Hmmm. I repeat my question. How far is it to Cyre? Maybe you have portals here ... however, the ship will also suit us. And tell me please about this Barovia of yours while we are still here and have not sailed to the other lands.
Ismark pauses and considers your questions. "I have not heard of any of these places. They are certainly not part of these lands. Portals? Like a door? I am not sure I understand your question."
Replying to Sven, Ismark nods and speaks regarding the mists you have experienced. "The mists are a daily part of life here in Barovia. They will creep across these lands, and when they do, it's usually best to be inside with a cup of good wine and a roaring fireplace. The mists at our borders...they are different altogether. They are...impenetrable. You cannot pass the mists."
Ismark only nods politely and smiles while listening to Velspira.
Responding to Blaze, Ismark's tone turns to a whisper. "Barovia is both this village AND the land. It is better that we say no more for now..."
Taking a deep breath, Ismark finally says "Where are my manners? You all must be famished! There is a pot of fine stew and fresh bread at my home. Please join me there. You will be my guest."
Never heard of such lands... Hmmm. She nods absently at the stranger's suggestion, lost in her thoughts. Yes, that would be fine...
Velspira didn't seem to notice anything, not that she seemed to care at all as she was already going through another glass, "Wouldn't mind it one bit, long as your house ain't haunted like the last one where stuck-up in."
The centaur watched the man glance furtively at the other patrons before suggesting they change locations. My questions made him uneasy, she realized. She felt a moment of pride for understanding the subtleties of human behaviour. Shaking her mane, she said, "I accept your hospitality, with thanks."
"Oef corse!" Sven says, smiling. So the stranger in the strange and weird tavern of the weird and gloomy village invites them home. What could possibly go wrong?
Ismark leads you to a weary looking mansion at the edge of town. The mansion squats behind a rusting iron fence. The iron gates are twisted and torn. The right gate lies cast aside, while the left swings lazily in the wind. The stuttering squeal and clang of the gate repeats with mindless precision. Weeds choke the grounds and press with menace upon the house itself. Yet, against the walls the growth has been tramped down to create a path about the domain. Heavy claw markings have stripped the once beautiful finish of the walls. Great black marks tell of the fires that have assailed the mansion. Not a pain or shard of glass stands in any window. All the windows are barred with planks, each one marked with stains of evil omen.
Blaze took in the derelict mansion with interest. The shabby nature of it did not make much of an impression, as she was little-used to human dwellings.
However, she was a soldier of her people, and she had plenty of experience with dangerous predators. Wolves (and worse) came from the mountains when the hunting was poor, hunting their foals. She knew the tracks and spoor of wolves. And she saw them now. Scores of wolf tracks, circling the house, along with the tracks of humans (or other two-legs).
Looking up at their host, she asked, "How long have the wolves been troubling you?"
Continues her ignorance of her surroundings and waltzes forward, "Crummy place ya got sir, ain't got the money to fix the place up. You sure ain't some haunt," she says.
"Wolves in the drum and bass (town), where's the sheriff?"
Sven takes mental note of the ruined state of the house. It seems old, enough that probably the actual owner never met the builder. He reacts quietly to the mention of wolves by the others, but waits to hear the answer.
Responding the Blaze, Ismark says "wolves, and other even less savory things. I'm afraid it's been a long time since we have truly known peace."
Turning to Velspira, Ismark notes that there is no sheriff. "When there is problem, this village comes together. The assault on my home is not something that my neighbors can help with though. Come...come inside. Meet my sister, and have some hot food..."
Shandi frowns and pushes back a strand of hair from his forehead. Are you by any chance a werewolf yourself? I won't be surprised at anything in these lands anymore. - she stares at the owner of the house.
"So... this seems like a dangerous place to live. You said before that the mists cannot be passed. So I guess you're all locked here... and so are we." He raises his brows a bit when saying that, as to give it importance. "Am I right?"
Of course, Sven has learned that nothing is impossible. Maybe out of your reach, but usually within the reach of somebody else. If they're all locked in this village, there must be a key - or a way to break out. They just need to find either, by looking in the proper place.
Shandi frowns and pushes back a strand of hair from his forehead. Are you by any chance a werewolf yourself? I won't be surprised at anything in these lands anymore. - she stares at the owner of the house.
"No, I am no werewolf. Just the son of deceased burgomaster hoping to make life better for my sister and my neighbors in this village."
Turning to Sven, he adds "the mists are indeed impassable to most. The Vistani are the exception to this, they come and go as they please."
With that, he pounds on the door. "It's Ismark, and I have brought new friends! Let us in!"
Blaze was shocked at Shandi's casual question about their host's species. Surely such a question was rude? But Ismark didn't seem upset, and answered with (she hoped) honesty.
"Who are the Vistani? And who do you live with?" she asked, as he begged entrance from his housemates.
I hope this is true. And... yes, who are the Vistani? Where can we find them? Can they be our guides to get out of here?
Ismark smiles. "Who do I live with? It is just myself, and my sister"
With that, you can hear heavy bars being moved just inside. The door swings open to reveal a dazzlingly comely woman.
"May I present to you my sister Ireena. Ireena, these visitors will be sharing a meal with us tonight."
"Let us go inside, I will tell you much."
"A pleasure. Sven, at your service" Sven greets, still a bit weary.
"A fancy drum you got here, ain't half bad," the Tiefling says as she paces around the foyer. It looked more like she was casing the place out than anything else, refraining from stealing as the last place she had come into had been a haunted horror house. Least thing she could was not cause another ghosts or monsters to pop up and try to swallow 'em whole like the tried to do with the automaton.
Inside, you find that the interior of Ismark's abode 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 burgomaster is in a side room on the floor--lying in a simple wooden coffin surrounded by wilting flowers and a faint odor of decay.
In addition to Ireena and Ismark, there are two old villagers, a man and a woman. Ismark addresses them."Ivan, Zaria..if you could, I would appreciate you setting a few more places at the table for our visitors. After that, you best go to your home before the night sets in. As always, your work is appreciated."
Ivan and Zaria appear to be simple peasants, perhaps employed by Ismark as servants. Though their faces are dour and emotionless, they do appear friendly.
The pleasant smell of simmering stew and fresh bread comes from the kitchen.
The sounds of Sven's belly when he smells the food are barely concealable. He takes a long look around to assess the place - and also to set his mind in something else that doesn't make him salivate.
While he waits for the servants to retire - hopefully to bring some dinner - he presents some respects before the coffin.
"May I ask what happened to him?" he cautiously inquires,
Blaze stepped carefully into the house, firmly telling her tail to stay down and well-behaved. Her hooves made the floor boards tremble, and she hoped that they wouldn't splinter beneath her.
The room was boarded up, and darker than she was used to, but what seemed to be the norm in this village. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. When she finally noticed the coffin, she whickered in alarm and backed up so suddenly she nearly knocked a chair over. "There's a dead man in there!" she cried. No wonder this village was so haunted, if they kept dead people inside their dwellings. The centaurs knew better, for the spirits would become trapped and unable to find their way to the unending pastures.
The others assured Blaze that this was normal amongst the humans, and slowly her heart slowed down. I will never get used to these two-legs, she thought. She stayed away from the coffin, but kept a wary eye upon it, in case the corpse rose up and needed to be cut down.
Shandie looks at the body in the coffin with surprise. What does it mean? Is this some kind of tradition in your village?