"Let's leave the loot huh? It is after all likely the villages anyway - and probably too much to carry. I wonder if we can manage the coffin though. At least as far as some moving water."
"And yes, the prayer beads will be a boon to the community."
He wonders if there's a nearby stream or river they can dump the dirt into. He ponders wandering around in the dark trying to do what needs to be done.
"Hrm. Maybe we should camp here tonight in the church. Head out when it's light so we can see. Or at least see what's coming at us, you know? I think that's our best course of action. The night is not our friend..."
"Now that we have the keys to this vault, we can keep the town's treasures locked within safely, can we not?" Borracho asks, happy to keep things safe either way. "But for the strand of blessings (which is much like Borracho), might be that we ask if one of us can carry the item should we need it in our fight to free the town? We can return it when we leave."
"Tural, would you be willing to carry it? Or should the very holy Borracho don the beads as a way to bring hope to the populace?" Borracho says, knowing the beads would look very nice against his hairy bare chest.
"Yes, we should get the soil to water, exaclty, Flemming, I was thinking the same thing," Borracho adds in his deep sonorous voice, turning to Flemming. "I think, if possible, we should camp where we can provide aid and service to those who might need it."
The closest moving water you can think of is the waterfall that’s just past the traveler’s camp. It would be impractical to carry the coffin full of dirt any distance in the dark, and even in the day you would use a cart for such a task. The weight of the chests stacked with ingots would also be exceedingly difficult to carry. The urns of spices may be the only thing that you could haul out this evening with relative ease. The prayer beads you all agree should not be left behind, but whether they remain with Darya or the troupe is a decision you’ll have to make. The tavern is a short distance from the church and although it is night and you’re certain there’s a vampire somewhere in the area, that vampire has already gained access to the church and the tavern may be a safer location.
Now that he knows more, Flemming suggests, "Let's lock all this up, except the prayer beads of course, and get some rest at the tavern. Tomorrow, we'll start by dealing with this coffin. Nice to have keys."
Eager to again greet those who love Borracho with all their hearts, Borracho is happy to go to the tavern for the night.
We have had a good day, and should rest well this night. He casts Prestidigitation repeatedly to get himself and his clothes clean and presentable, especially if he will be entertaining. Which can be the point of going to some taverns.
Tural glances out in the darkness. "Good point. We can move faster without the load."
With only the prayer beads in hand the troupe locks the vault and ascends back up the stairs to the main room of the church. With quick steps you exit the building and hurry through the night. Nothing harasses you along the way and it’s with relief that you throw open the door to the warm tavern and step inside. A cheer rises from the few patrons still at the tavern, Darya among them, and quickly mugs of beer and glasses of wine are thrust into your hands. ”Do you travel at night now without fear?” Darya asks and the other patrons listen closely for your answer. ”We were a bit worried when you didn’t return before the sunset.”
”Do you travel at night now without fear?”
Borracho smiles easily.
"Fear? What does Borracho know of fear? Nothing," he replies sonorously. "We encountered nothing, and it is more likely that the villains that plague this area have fear of us! Whether its Flemming's fists, or Tural's holy glow or Madam Crow's noogies, they know to avoid us, that is more likely explanation," he continues, standing heroically, with hands on hips. "Borracho does not fear the night. What is in the night fears Borracho!"
Tural shakes his head in response to the question as Borracho answers. "No. There is still fear. There is still a very powerful enemy. But we can't let fear control us.
"We returned here for safety. But also to bring word, and a powerful tool to you." He pulls out the prayer beads to show them. "This strand of Prayer beads can let an acolyte priest use a couple of healing spells well beyond normal. Not for fighting though. Just healing." He holds the beads out to Darya.
"We also found other important things, but too heavy for us to move. In the morning we will go again, to take a vampire's coffin to destroy. And to retrieve money, and spices, and everything else that was stored there."
"Yes, you might not have need of it now, but the town is rich with the wealth of the church. When all this is over, you'll at least have something to show for it!" Flemming is pleased to have some good news for the tavern.
Oh!
More importantly, he takes out the original gnomish pipe and hands it to the tavern-keeper. "Also, a gift to the pub, for I have managed another and this one is for you to share around."
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"Borracho does not fear the night. What is in the night fears Borracho!”
A cheer goes up among the small group in the tavern. The bravado is met with clinking glasses and calls for a performance.
"In the morning we will go again, to take a vampire's coffin to destroy. And to retrieve money, and spices, and everything else that was stored there.”
At the mention of a vampire’s coffin all the joy seeps from the room. ”A vampire’s coffin, so it’s true then, our troubles are from the worst of the night creatures.” Quiet and frightened faces permeate the crowd, then a small voice from an elderly woman breaks the silence. ”Did you say spices? What kind of spices? I do hope there’s pepper.” Eyebrows raise and the little crowd looks to you with hope again.
"Also, a gift to the pub, for I have managed another and this one is for you to share around.”
The tavern keeper’s eyes fill with water. ”This is a splendid gift! A true treasure in these darks times. I’m indebted to you!” Arik holds up the pipe with two hands like it was an artifact, then passes it to the patrons of the tavern where it’s accepted with enthusiasm.
As the gnomish pipe smoke curls in the air, the call comes again for a performance. ”Would it be too much to ask for another story? It does lift our spirits so.”
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I say give 'em the beads. It's of minor assistance to us, but a great boon to them!
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"You should take these beads as well," Borracho says, removing the strand of beads from his hair chest. "Much like Borracho, they are full of holy power, and will serve you well."
Borracho steps back, readying a performance in his mind, but not yet done with the beads.
"And if you do not have someone who can work the beads for you, then you should call Borracho, and Borracho will bend the beads to his will, so that the it's purity will serve the town," he continues.
And, after getting some food and drink, Borracho will perform. He will orate and act, using a casting of Disguise Self to inhabit another character as needed.
He will perform Act II, Scenes 6 through 13 of Kyson's Choice, the Musical.
Darya is beyond grateful for the Prayer Beads. ”This is a gift that will save lives. You have given us so much, healing and hope are part of our village again. We will always honor you here!” Hands pat your shoulders and heartfelt thanks are offered from all in the tavern.
The small gathering settles near the warm fire as Borracho’s sonorous voice recounts Kyson’s Choice. It’s late in the evening by the time scene thirteen is finished and weariness tugs at you. The patrons say their goodnights and the troupe retires to their rooms upstairs.
Morning dawns without disturbance during the night and the troupe is refreshed and ready for a new day in Barovia.
Tural wakes to a quiet morning. The previous evening was victorious and Tural felt joy. He goes outside to face the sun and kneels, wrapping a blindfold around his eyes he turns in place over and over, slowing as he prays to Sarenrae for the magic that he felt he'd need for the day. "Sarenrae! We praise you for the divine might that we need to face the enemies here in this land. Let your divine might flow across these lands and destroy the undead infection in this land."
With his prayers complete he removes the blindfold and stares into the sunlight. They'd need strength to move the stuff in the vault.
Conditions = None
Melee: Attack: BAB +5, Dex +4, Focus +1, PS -2 Damage: Dex +4, PS +4 DR: Magic, Silver Crit x2
Ranged: Attack: BAB +5, Dex +4 Damage: +0
Ki Powers (8/8) (extra attack, barkskin (50m, +2nat armor))
Stunning Fist (4/4) (stun or fatigue, DC 15 Fort)
Reroll Charm or Compulsion (1/1)
Ki Ring (2/2, +2 CMD grapple, reposition, & trip, -1 ki for powers)
Daredevil Boots (10/10r, free, +5 acrobatics, if successful +1 to hit)
Wand Mage Armor (45, +4 armor, 1h)
Flemming gets up slowly, relishing his sleep. When the group is awake, he suggests, ”Do we need to move the stuff from the vault? Why not give the keys to the leaders of this community and let them handle it. After we deal with the coffin of course.”
”I suggest we deal with the coffin first, then I’m not sure what’s next. Do we want to confront the count?” He involuntarily shudders at the thought, though he knows they must do so eventually to see how involved he is in all this.
It takes all of four minutes for the Crow to nest by the fire of the tavern, and fall into a deep, deep sleep. A sleep so deep, her ears no longer hear the reassurances of Tural, the bravado of Borracho, and the beneficence of Flemming. The praise of the people, neither. The ears only hear the crackle of the burning wood, and it eases the rabbit in her mind seeking to run away from the fangs of the black night.
A nudge to retire only wakens Mimi for the quiet that will be the rest of the night. She will keep watch, she will listen, and she will report anything that tests the sanctuary that is the tavern.
...
At daybreak, Mimi nurses a small distillate of kahve, and waits for the boys to wake, so she can ready herself for the next confrontation. She checks and double checks the presence of the Vault keys. She holds one of them up, and makes it disappear from most sightlines, before allowing it to be visible to all. It works out some of the arthritis, and it works out some of the anxiety.
"Why not give the keys to the leaders of this community and let them handle it."
Mimi stops her manipulations, the key held between two knuckles. "How did the keys end up in the possession of the vampire? Stolen? Given away, willingly? We should determine that first, before we hand them off. If the vampire craves the safety of that Vault again, they'll seek the keys again..."
Tural hears Mimi's concern, but shakes his head. "If the vault is empty the keys have little value. Lets get rid of the coffin and the valuable stuff can all be brought here. A few men with a wagon should have no trouble clearing it."
"Then, we can figure out our next steps to break the curse holding everyone here."
"Sure, that works for me. Share out the wealth, and keep the keys just in case."
Flemming will ask about a cart and some fine trustworthy fellows to help them.
Mimi looks pleased, as she tucks the keys away. "I'm all for getting rid of the coffin. Vampires within the town perimeter? Despicable. I'll admit, the keys feel more like a trophy, so remind me to hand them over when the time comes."
The Crow is not above helping moving the various contents of the Vault to buildings considered more sacred and prohibitive to vampires entering. During the work, she inquires with the others.
"Supposing we travel to the Count's Castle, what's to say the gates never open when we call on him to answer? Do we approach him as performers, seeking patronage? Something less... adversarial?"
Borracho winds down his sonorous rendition of Kyson's Choice, but and is fine with the solution for the keys.
In the morning, he will ready and prepare to go after spending some time with his special book.
Tural considers Mimi's words. "Possible, but I think the Count already knows of us. But he might play along thinking to catch us by surprise. We just need to be careful, as always. Any vampire is dangerous. But if this Count has been undead for a long time? He could have powers beyond any normal one. I'd say almost certainly more than usual."
"I wonder how he is tied to this land? Did he create the mists? Doing so would seem to limit his food source. Or is he trapped here as well?"
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Darya joins Tural for his morning prayers, reciting the words to Sarenrae along with him. Her knowledge and ability is growing each day as the eager student of the Dawnflower applies herself to her new calling.
Over breakfast the troupe discusses the vault and agrees upon a plan of action. Villagers working on the church repairs are happy to help and a sturdy wagon is quickly provided. The large cache of spices are brought to the tavern and excitement spreads throughout the village. The chests of ingots are delivered to Petra and the smith is fascinated with the different materials. ”I will make what you need, but this will take some time. Mithral and Adamantine must first show their secrets before Petra and his family can do them justice.” The books and tomes are brought to the tavern and quality bookshelves are brought from some of the abandoned homes to create a little library along the back wall near the small stage. The treasures emptied from the vault, the troupe turns their attention to the coffin.
The glossy black work of funeral art is hauled out of the church and placed on the wagon. Villagers make signs against evil and spit on the ground as the coffin rolls down the road toward the waterfall. As you depart the village and pass the traveler’s camp you notice the thinned fog is growing thick again the further you venture from the church. In less than a half hour you reach a stone bridge crossing the stream that runs from the pool at the base of the falls. Dirt splashes down into the moving water until the coffin is empty, then you dump the coffin itself to the rocks twenty feet below the bridge where it shatters and the pieces are swept away.
You bring the wagon back to the village and relax as the fog thins again and blue sky shows in patches. A crowd has gathered at the tavern and the smell of cooking fills the air. The sounds of hammers echo from the church as the repairs continue and they blend with the sound of the smith’s hammer as Petra works with his new materials. Barovia has transformed in a few short days from a village haunted by death to one bustling with life. Still, outside the village the heavy fog lurks and a curse maintains its grip on this land. The castle on the hill, and its mysterious count, waits for you.
"Supposing we travel to the Count's Castle, what's to say the gates never open when we call on him to answer? Do we approach him as performers, seeking patronage? Something less... adversarial?”
"Possible, but I think the Count already knows of us. But he might play along thinking to catch us by surprise. We just need to be careful, as always. Any vampire is dangerous. But if this Count has been undead for a long time? He could have powers beyond any normal one. I'd say almost certainly more than usual. I wonder how he is tied to this land? Did he create the mists? Doing so would seem to limit his food source. Or is he trapped here as well?”
Over a tasty lunch of peppered lamb and spiced potatoes you discuss your approach to the castle. Villagers tell you the road there leads past the falls and climbs steeply through the rocky hills. They tell of lethal drops over a cliff’s edge and old bridges of dubious quality. Though when questioned none of them have actually traveled the road except one old man that made the trip in his younger days. Kolyan may be the only one that has traveled there recently.
”Sounds like quite the trek to get there. Maybe we should go on foot, rather than with the coach. It’ll be safer on the cliffs, and far less weight on the rickety bridges.”
Tural enjoys the good food and thanks the people. "On foot sounds like the best option. Pity none of us can fly.... Perhaps we should speak with Kolyan. How long ago was his trip?"
Borracho works hard to help move the supplies, even conjuring an unseen servant to help lift or drag things as needed (20lbs lift power or 100lbs draggin'). And he will often Prestidigitate himself clean as needed as the townsfolk needed to see a perfect Borracho, as that is the only Borracho that exists.
"I, Borracho, would be happy to walk. It would be good for my many admirers to see my strolling, and providing inspiration to all," Borracho notes about walking.
"And Borracho will have no problem rising to the great cliff heights, for he is like the birds in the sky."
Kolyan’s visit was just over three weeks ago. A black carriage arrived at his estate and took him and Ireena to the castle. The winding mountain road is roughly four miles from the village to the castle and climbs a significant amount of elevation. It’s too late in the day to walk there and back, but if you left in the morning it seems plausible that you could make the round trip and return before sundown.
"Let's visit tomorrow then. We'll leave at first light so as to have plenty of time before night falls." ...he hopes.
He thinks a moment, "Shall we help with the church this afternoon? Or is there some other, more pressing, thing to do?"
Tural looks off in the direction they needed to go and sighs. "Yes. Rest tonight. We've had a good day. The coffin destroyed and the vault emptied. The people have the spices and the riches from the vault. A good day."
"But we should have a watch tonight. The vampire may be barred from entry without an invitation. But he still has access to lackeys that may not. If he sends an assault we can destroy it, weakening him further. If he doesn't, nothing is lost for having a quiet night, safely."
Tural looks off in the direction they needed to go and sighs. "Yes. Rest tonight. We've had a good day. The coffin destroyed and the vault emptied. The people have the spices and the riches from the vault. A good day."
Borracho nods, agreeing to this very good plan that was exactly(probably) along the lines of his own thinking.
"Tural, you are wise and thoughtful, much like Borracho. Tonight, we will rest and enjoy our good day, keeping time with friends and go tomorrow to see what would dare challenge Borracho."
The afternoon passes with work on the church and before sundown you’re back in the tavern relaxing. You retire to your rooms upstairs early to prepare for the long day ahead. You maintain a watch through the night and you’re rewarded for your diligence when a strange scratching at the window near midnight disturbs your rest. As the troupe quietly rises from their beds the scratching halts.
Mimi literally sleeps with one eye open, though it rolls up into her skull and stays out of harm's way. It rolls back down at the sound of the scratching, and is joined by the other eye, which opens fully.
She sees the boys rising from the corner of her eye, while approaching the window, and seeking the source of the scratching.
Flemming, with more bravado than he feels, goes to the windows and flings them open. Peering into the night, he tries to discern what might have caused it - expecting some small rat or bird or other.
Borracho rolls out of bed, immediately summoning some sweet armor to protect himself for a bit.
"Did you hear that as well? It might be one of Borracho's many womens admirers who have come to call for Borracho's touch in the night. We should be kind, as they cannot help themselves," he notes, trying to get a bead on the scratching.
Perception
He will cast Detect Undead and give his finely tuned sense of right and wrong time to hone in on the disturbance.
Tural joins Flemming at the window. He doesn't have his usual armor. It feels almost as light as a cotton shirt and he would wear it outside....
"Careful! It could be a minion!" He holds up his hand with Sarenrae's symbol, ready to call on her power as needed.
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The troupe reacts without delay and everyone springs from the beds to see what was the matter. Flemming throws open the window shutters and throws up the sash, but nothing to your wondering eyes appears. Then Borracho seeks for the presence of undead and detects an aura. It’s not overly strong and as he hones in on the location the ghostly face of a boy dips down from the above the window frame. ”My pardons, sirs, and ma’am, I don’t mean to frighten you. I’ve come to warn you.” The ghostly boy drops from above the window and turns a somersault in midair, then drifts forward into the room past Flemming.
Tural listens and wonders. Why would an incorporeal creature make scratching sounds to warn and wake everyone inside this building. It wasn't stopped by lack of invitation. And ghosts could be very powerful. But the ghost of, a boy? He steps forward, "Hold your attacks!"
"Speak your warning then. And after, how did you become a ghost? Shouldn't you move on? Perhaps we could help you?"
"The Dawnflower teaches compassion and patience, and that redemption is possible for any that truly desire it."
"Warn us? Are you sure you have not come to admire Borracho?" Borracho asks in a deep sonorous tone, knowing that he must have many fans both alive and dead.
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Flemming opens his mouth to speak... and closes it again. He's never met a ghost before, but he imagined there'd be lots more life draining, and well placed attacks that do little damage. Not this.
He listens as a priest and a ghost walk into a bar. He does not take the AoO.
Mimi's eyes widen fully as the ghost enters the room. Its presence is otherworldly, of course, but it's also something other than an allip and its incoherent chattering. This one speaks, and so politely.
"Why? Why would you warn us, phantom pup?" Mimi holds still, her hand clasping at her shawl, slowly raising it under her chin.
"Speak your warning then. And after, how did you become a ghost? Shouldn't you move on? Perhaps we could help you?”
"Why? Why would you warn us, phantom pup?”
”The whole castle itself is a trap. Once you enter you can’t leave it unless the lord wills it so. He’s a cruel man, but the witches are worse. They are mean, old crones, even the lord stays clear of them. And their pulsing crystal heart at the top of tower makes me feel bad, and nothing makes me feel anything anymore!” The ghost boy settles on the edge of a bed, his short legs swinging freely and a sad look on his face.
”My family was called to visit the castle many, many years ago. The lord’s brother was still the count at that time and there was no curse on the lands. My father was just a merchant. I don’t know what demand he refused, but the lord punished us for the refusal. In the dungeon of the castle is a torture theatre and my family was killed slowly for his amusement. Our bones are still there, submerged in the mucky water that fills the place now.” It’s the first the troupe has heard of evil in the land prior to the count and it’s heartbreaking to imagine the horror of the boy’s final hours.”The brothers fought with each other something terrible. I don’t know what started the fight, but it ended with the lord on his death bed. But he didn’t die. The witches arrived and he was healed, but not properly. Us ghosts could tell he wasn’t alive, but neither dead.” The plural use of ghosts raises eyebrows among the troupe.
”After the count had risen from his death bed his brother fell ill and died days later. That was when the fog fell across the land. Servants tried to flee, but the new lord allowed no one to leave the castle. It’s been like a prison ever since. Few living souls remain, mostly people that have been tricked into entering the castle, that’s why you must be careful!” He reaches into his little tunic and pulls forth a dagger of superb quality. He holds it forward on two hands with a triumphant look on his face. ”I stole this for you. It was the only treasure I could touch and hold. I hope it helps.” For the ghost to even touch the item it must be a ghost touch weapon. The ghostly boy looks at you with an expression you’ve come to recognize among the villagers of Barovia; Hope. It seems the living and dead both are victims of the curse upon this land.
"A trap. You're warning us about the Castle. You're very kind, and you're very strong to come all this way." Mimi sits down, and clasps her hands instead of her shawl, placing them firmly in her lap.
"If you died in the Castle, are you also forbidden to leave? Does he control everything that can come and go? If so, that means the lord willed your visit here tonight." The Crow grows quiet, and waits to hear what the ghost might offer as a reply.
”He doesn’t control me!” The ghostly boy's voice rings with the defiance of the young despite coming from a ghost over a century old. ”I can leave the castle whenever I want and visit the village. Our bones should be buried behind the church, not decaying in the mucky water of that horrible room.”
Flemming is astounded by the story, and grasps for his tobacco and a rolling paper. He buys time by fumbling together a particularly bad cigarette. He stuffs it in his mouth and says, "The whole place is a trap huh? Sounds like when we go there, it's to end this evil count fellow and his witches. Or the witches what spawned him anyway." Flemming guesses.
"A nasty business that's going to be too. Are we sure we're up for such a confrontation?"
When the ghost repeats the bit about the bones, Flemming nods. "Sure thing - you've suffered enough. We'll bury your bones where they shall rest in peace. I bet Tural will even say some good words over your grave. Fix you right up."
"Is there anything else we need before confronting the count? I think I'm as ready as I can be really." he again admires his silver hand wraps. That and his innate power should overcome the worst of the creature's resistances.
He also turns back to the ghost, "Can you help us with a layout of the keep? Knowing where stuff is will help."
"He doesn’t control me! I can leave the castle whenever I want and visit the village."
Mimi smiles, though the smile tightens at her jaw, as she raises the ire of the specter. "I hoped for that. I'm just sorry that you had to die in order to leave the Castle on your own accord." The old woman looks to their Sarenrite, curious, but not curious enough to remain silent while she wonders what wood is burning behind Tural's divine eyes.
"Phantom pup, do you have a name? Does your family? Do the brothers?" Mimi hesitates. "Do the witches?" She doesn't like the idea that they become more real to her when she learns the names, but she doesn't have time for ignorance.
Tural thinks over the young boy ghost's story. So he can leave the castle, but anyone else is trapped? Or maybe there are ways?
"Is there a way to sneak in? To the dungeon area, where your bones and those of your family are? Maybe we could gather your bones and bury them properly? I would consecrate the grounds so you and your family would be released for your curse. Is that possible?"
Borracho stands and listens to the ghost, and the questions asked, all very similar to what he would have asked if he had bothered to think about such things at the moment. Currently, he was thinking if the ghost child would like to see him juggle, it might be a treat for the dead. He makes a note to ask later.
The little ghost seems encouraged when you promise to bury his family’s bones. He doesn’t know much about consecrating grounds and releasing curses and just shrugs when asked if it’s possible.
"Can you help us with a layout of the keep? Knowing where stuff is will help.”
”I can help you draw a map. I’ll even show you where the secret treasure room is hidden!”
"Phantom pup, do you have a name? Does your family? Do the brothers?”…"Do the witches?”
”I’m Jakob, my sister is Karolina, and my mum and pop are Dina and Ugo. I don’t know the witches names. They keep a glowing blue wall around them that keeps me from getting close. Edward, he died in the same room as me, says it’s because the witches are afraid of us.”
"Is there a way to sneak in? To the dungeon area…“
”Below the castle, in the face of the stone pillar that supports it, are windows in the crypt of the first lord. You can't see them from above and it’s a long fall to the valley below, but you could sneak into the crypt through those if you can find a way to get to them.”
"How far is the fall? I don't have anything like levitation or flying magic. But, there might be another option."