The last of the Dusk Elf maidens notices that the cheerful minstrel seems to be waiting for her, while the others are already heading down the path she came from.
"It's very chivalrous of you, waiting for me and not wanting to leave me alone, Radallion" she smiles at him, coming up at his side. "Anyway come now, let's follow them... In fact, considering that you all came from outside Barovia, the path you came from is more likely to be haunted - perhaps only passable in one direction. Let's try the path the others have now chosen, the one I came from. If we are lucky, it will take us back out of here. Maybe on the road to Vallaki, a village I was heading towards and where we could find hospitality".
"And if we are not lucky..." she shivers for a moment, but then manages, to her surprise, to smile again (maybe it's the proximity of the vital young man?) "...we will try to face the eventual bad luck together" and she keeps her bow ready.
Ansur grumbles as everyone discusses their thoughts and plans. He’s less than trusting of the wereraven but takes a feather out of curiosity. He seems to ignore the comment about his proportions or perhaps he doesn’t pay any mind to it. It could be that he sees it as a compliment but alas his thick beard seems to hide any subtle facial expressions. He chimes in about his letter, “my letter wasn’t signed by anyone particular. It was merely a challenge and I was deemed its prey. The figure could be misleadin…”
As the group begins their investigation and decide their next step he grasps a handful of soil and inspects the path he came down, comparing it to the one that which Svetlana came from. He’s less concerned about the item they found as the spiritual isn’t practical in his eyes.
Rolling survival to see if he can get a lead on which path might be the correct undertaking. Looking for other indications that the path from Barovia has been more traveled or has tracks that would indicate a positive outcome. 11
He takes the rear watching for ambushes as they progress down the path.
Radallion stands watching to see what path Svetlana will take. She walks up to him thanking him for wait as if he had been doing it for her and not his own self preservation. ‘uuuumm sure thats exactly what I was doing… tell her the truth you were waiting because it was logical she obviously knows where to go best something like that…’. “Well I wasn’t about to leave a woman alone not with fog like this, errr besides were in this together now” ‘oh well that’s just great what happened to self preservation Radallion? You see a pretty face and you can’t help yourself did you ever think that she lives in a land ruled by a Demon?!? Not really the ideal here…. I am such an idiot’ She says some stuff about how her path must be the right one but it doesn’t make much sense to him.
"...we will try to face the eventual bad luck together" She says. He responds saying “Well I have a serious case of good bad luck so I’m sure we’ll be fine. You see bad things happen to me but I end up alive. Suffering but no death, and what’s that but another story to tell for free drinks at the bar?”
Rolling survival to see if he can get a lead on which path might be the correct undertaking. Looking for other indications that the path from Barovia has been more traveled or has tracks that would indicate a positive outcome. 11
@Aelas The soil seems to be quite consistent between each path... black, dense, and only trodden by a single set of footprints.
The day's drizzle has turned into a rainstorm as you approach Svetlana's path. as you all step into the mists, you see only but 5 feet in front of you. step after step you all stick together in a careful marching order. soon, the dense fog subsides and you arrive... at a crossroads. The same crossroads left from. bewildered, the adventurers try the path again-- maybe they got turned around by accident? but alas, they reach the crossroads, again, again, and again. A party member suggests to take an alternate path, although you all can't quite recall just who mentioned it. as stress begins to set in, you all have exhausted just about every path and idea you can think of. deliriously walking, running, walking backwards, taking serperate paths... all lead back to the crossroads. how long has it been? Minutes? hours? the mist is all but overwhelming...
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my Friends I don’t think we’re going anywhere, perhaps we should sit down if only for a little while…..My legs feel… I don’t wan—“ Radallion collapses to the ground still conscious but gasping for air unwilling and unwanting to go any further.
as @Ansur follows the party out through the mists and back into the crossroads for the final time, and recognizes that the dim light you all originally had is now fading, as the sun-wherever it may be- is setting.
"The mists have already trapped us" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens notes, worried. She then puts her hands to her temples for a moment, with a vaguely pained expression...
"It's him! The Devil Stradh! The mists of Ravenloft have trapped us! Now he will come for us!" the Voices in her head promptly yell. "He wants to kill you too, Svetlana! After he destroys you, we won't even have the semblance of life we have now!" "Think of something, Svetlana..." "I could try... if you would be a little quiet, please... I didn't survive everything that happened to me until today only to let myself be trapped now without reacting!" "This is the spirit, Svetlana! We are with you!"
...but after a while the Savage Wanderer recovers and has a determined light at the bottom of her azure eyes: "Something horrible probably awaits us" she states, matter-of-factly, as a person not surprised by having to face horrible things. "The mists are draining our strength, like a hunter's dogs tiring the prey for them; perhaps we should stop wandering through the fog and camp here. Let's build a fire. Let's regain our strength. And let's be ready for whatever comes".
Svetlana begins to set a good example and collects some sticks, dry leaves and branches to prepare a camp fire... unless someone finds and proposes a better strategy.
Svetlana's analogy of hunting dogs tiring their prey weighs heavily on Rufus. He also likens their situation to laboratory mice locked in a maze. He can't prevent himself from peering upward, half expecting some enormous, monstrous set of eyes to be peering down at them through the mist. "I suppose we have no choice but to wait," he agrees with Svetlana. He kneels and pats Radallion on the shoulder. "Now, now," he offers, trying (but probably failing) to be encouraging. "Try to rest. It isn't all bad. We're together, at least. We'll build a fire. Perhaps, when you've caught your breath, we might hear a song or story to lift our spirits?"
Rufus helps in the search for nearby sticks and leaves that may be dry enough to catch fire. "As long as we're starting a fire, I don't think a light should hurt, either?" He produces from his backpack a thin, elongated tube and a small, sharp scalpel. He punctures the tube in the middle. The tube smokes a bit, and a vivid green light appears that bathes the party, the ground, and the mist in a chymic viridescence. He attaches the tube to a specially designed compartment in his crossbow, which now serves as a weaponized torch. (casting light.) In the green glow, his face appears ghastly. "There now, isn't that better?"
It is about the time that Rufus casts light that everyone sees the contrasting darkness beyond. not moments later, a clamor and rustling in the distance, past the wilderness to the northeast. as the strain of the day and stress of the mists attempts to claim you, I need everyone to roll a CON save.
On a fail, (9 or below) you receive a stress point.
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens at first smiles happily at Rufus' help. She is then intrigued when he starts fiddling with his tools... and, finally, uncomfortable, at the sight of the green light. And no, it's not for the clamor and rustling in the distance; she just heard it and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. The reason for her upset is another...
"Witchcraft" Svetlana notes, wary.
"Come on, Svetlana..." the Voices in her mind encourage her "You wanted help, didn't you? You didn't get it? So what? Are you being choosy now?" "My son Segrei knew how to do it too... And with a more beautiful color! It's just a trick, Svetlana. Oh, poor Sergei, my dearest..." confused memories of bloody death follow... "Focus on serious things, instead! You have to stay alive! So we will partly stay alive too, in you!" "Of course!" she thinks sacrastically "Continuing to enjoy the company of the thoughts of a hundred thousand massacred elf maidens is precisely the main motivation why I try not to die... But you are right; I must not let myself be influenced by my past... Rufus has only evoked a little of light for the benefit of all. It's not that he is turning me to stone. Not yet, at least".
"But at least, unlike that of the Mists, your witchcraft is to our advantage!" the Savage Wanderer forces herself to admit - and smile again - just a few moments later "Thanks Rufus. It's good that you're on our side".
Once she manages to light the fire, Svetlana also retrieves a small log of wood and some grass to create a sort of relatively comfortable position close to the heat of the fire and helps the prostrate minstrel to rest there: "Here Radallion, Rufus is twice right" she sits next to him and delicately places a hand on his shoulder. "First, resting for a moment will do you good - it will do us all. Second, when you feel up to it, hear a song or story will help us further! I would really like".
That said, the Savage Wanderer seems to relax and take out a pomegranate. She begins to peel it slowly and extract one by one the blood red beans, to bring them to the mouth. "Someone wants some?" she asks to all "It's a bit tricky to eat, but not that much; you see? You pick one of the seeds, these tiny red ones... you put it in your mouth... you crush it with your teeth... hmmm... and you taste the juice! The flavor is not sweet at all and is objectively a bit strong... Either you love it, or you hate it. I belong to the first of the two categories. If you want to find out which one you are part of..." she holds out the half pomegranate that she isn't already eating.
As the magical light and light of the fire ignite through the rainstorm, it illuminates the haze and mist around you. Effectively blinding you from what's beyond 15 feet of your radius. Although the heat can comfort you, it appears that it also restricts your vision through the mist.
"The heat comforts us..." Svetlana realizes "...but the light effectively restricts our vision through the mist. However, whoever wants to come to us, still has to come within the radius of the light... And considering that soon we will be in the middle of a foggy night, I doubt that putting out the fire would improve our visibility much in the end" and she tries to recover her calm and energy as best she can, remaining alert, but also continuing to taste the pomegranate seeds.
Between Svetlana's fire and Rufus' light, the group can no longer see anything except for the darkness beyond the fog around them. The lack of vision makes Miralen feel too vulnerable to sit and wait for what might be coming. She finally decides she can't wait the night out here, and to keep moving, away from the fire and light, so that she might be able to see what could be around them. Where was that noise coming from? The northeast. Miralen starts to head in that direction, hoping that once out of the blinding light, she can see more of her surroundings and any clues to lead her.
Ansur worried as the daylight diminishes and the party begins to make camp.. Ansur chimes in, "These paths have no footprints, no treadmarks from anyone but us here, you say witchcraft, I think ye be right! The longer we're here the more risky I thinks..We should take turns on watch, 2 per shift? Camp with some trees at are backs if possible, any cover wuld do... Anyone gots ideas? that wood thing that got picked up a compass or some shit? I'm not the brightest flame in da bunch so I'm thinkin I'm grasping at nuthin"
He begins to take out a piece of jerky to snack on before sitting on the ground just off the road near the rest of the party. He'll help set up camp with whatever supplies they might have.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Con check 18
Radallion lays there a while longer before saying, “yes perhaps I will,” Taking his flute he plays a few feeble notes before rubbing his browandtaking a swig from his flask. Playing again, the fatigue somewhat faded, his tune is a prancing jolly with a firm beat like a galloping horse. After a few verses he stops and say, “Far from here in a little meadow, with a river running through it, there is a nameless horse. Every day she does the same things, she eats the grass, drinks of the river, and runs through the meadow. One day a village boy named Tom watches her seeing her eat the grass, drink of the river, and runs through the meadow. Tom says watching until his mother calls ‘Tom time for dinner’ and Tom leaves. Tom comes back each day watching the nameless horse, one day when he is particularly curious he walks to the horse. He asks ‘tell me horse why is it that you only ever eat the grass, drink of the river, and run through the meadow?’ The horse responds with, ‘It is because I am nameless and free. And it makes me happy.’ Tom nods and leaves when his mother calls him. The next day Tom comes again asking if he has done anything else with her freedom from name before. The horse is puzzled ‘No I eat the grass, drink of the river, and run through the meadow it makes me happy’ Tom shrugs leaving for supper. The nameless horse does not see Tom again for a while.”
Radallion once again plays his flute though it is not as enthused more hesitant than headstrong. Going this way and that without a clear drive or direction.
“She thinks to herself maybe I’ll do something different today so when he comes again I can tell him about it. So instead of eating the grass she rolls in it and eats the leaves. Instead of drinking the rivers water she runs down it, drinking of the lake. Instead of running through the meadow she walks smelling the flowers. When Tom comes the horse tells him of his new use of freedom. Tom laughs ‘I suppose those are a change, but if you had a name you could do more than eat the grass and leaves, drink of the river and lake, and go further than this meadow’. The Nameless horse thinks that perhaps Tom is right so the boy gives her a name.”
He picks up his flute playing a somber tone somewhat eerie in the fog.
“And so the nameless horse became Marin. Though she did many more things than she had done before she was no longer what she had been herself. She was what they called her, and She came when called. One day stuck in the stable she heard two men speaking to one another. ‘My son’s going be born tomorrow I think I’ll name him-‘ but she could not listen she cried that they would never be nameless” Radallion looks into the fire silent for a time before saying “Our paths are tied to out names and so are we. We may never escape them. I can only be glad that mine intersected with yours” he says to the group
Miralen follows behind Rufus and Rhykal
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens notices that the cheerful minstrel seems to be waiting for her, while the others are already heading down the path she came from.
"It's very chivalrous of you, waiting for me and not wanting to leave me alone, Radallion" she smiles at him, coming up at his side. "Anyway come now, let's follow them... In fact, considering that you all came from outside Barovia, the path you came from is more likely to be haunted - perhaps only passable in one direction. Let's try the path the others have now chosen, the one I came from. If we are lucky, it will take us back out of here. Maybe on the road to Vallaki, a village I was heading towards and where we could find hospitality".
"And if we are not lucky..." she shivers for a moment, but then manages, to her surprise, to smile again (maybe it's the proximity of the vital young man?) "...we will try to face the eventual bad luck together" and she keeps her bow ready.
Ansur grumbles as everyone discusses their thoughts and plans. He’s less than trusting of the wereraven but takes a feather out of curiosity. He seems to ignore the comment about his proportions or perhaps he doesn’t pay any mind to it. It could be that he sees it as a compliment but alas his thick beard seems to hide any subtle facial expressions. He chimes in about his letter, “my letter wasn’t signed by anyone particular. It was merely a challenge and I was deemed its prey. The figure could be misleadin…”
As the group begins their investigation and decide their next step he grasps a handful of soil and inspects the path he came down, comparing it to the one that which Svetlana came from. He’s less concerned about the item they found as the spiritual isn’t practical in his eyes.
Rolling survival to see if he can get a lead on which path might be the correct undertaking. Looking for other indications that the path from Barovia has been more traveled or has tracks that would indicate a positive outcome. 11
He takes the rear watching for ambushes as they progress down the path.
Radallion stands watching to see what path Svetlana will take. She walks up to him thanking him for wait as if he had been doing it for her and not his own self preservation. ‘uuuumm sure thats exactly what I was doing… tell her the truth you were waiting because it was logical she obviously knows where to go best something like that…’. “Well I wasn’t about to leave a woman alone not with fog like this, errr besides were in this together now” ‘oh well that’s just great what happened to self preservation Radallion? You see a pretty face and you can’t help yourself did you ever think that she lives in a land ruled by a Demon?!? Not really the ideal here…. I am such an idiot’ She says some stuff about how her path must be the right one but it doesn’t make much sense to him.
"...we will try to face the eventual bad luck together" She says. He responds saying “Well I have a serious case of good bad luck so I’m sure we’ll be fine. You see bad things happen to me but I end up alive. Suffering but no death, and what’s that but another story to tell for free drinks at the bar?”
@Aelas The soil seems to be quite consistent between each path... black, dense, and only trodden by a single set of footprints.
The day's drizzle has turned into a rainstorm as you approach Svetlana's path. as you all step into the mists, you see only but 5 feet in front of you. step after step you all stick together in a careful marching order. soon, the dense fog subsides and you arrive... at a crossroads. The same crossroads left from. bewildered, the adventurers try the path again-- maybe they got turned around by accident? but alas, they reach the crossroads, again, again, and again. A party member suggests to take an alternate path, although you all can't quite recall just who mentioned it. as stress begins to set in, you all have exhausted just about every path and idea you can think of. deliriously walking, running, walking backwards, taking serperate paths... all lead back to the crossroads. how long has it been? Minutes? hours? the mist is all but overwhelming...
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my Friends I don’t think we’re going anywhere, perhaps we should sit down if only for a little while…..My legs feel… I don’t wan—“ Radallion collapses to the ground still conscious but gasping for air unwilling and unwanting to go any further.
as @Ansur follows the party out through the mists and back into the crossroads for the final time, and recognizes that the dim light you all originally had is now fading, as the sun-wherever it may be- is setting.
"The mists have already trapped us" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens notes, worried. She then puts her hands to her temples for a moment, with a vaguely pained expression...
"It's him! The Devil Stradh! The mists of Ravenloft have trapped us! Now he will come for us!" the Voices in her head promptly yell.
"He wants to kill you too, Svetlana! After he destroys you, we won't even have the semblance of life we have now!"
"Think of something, Svetlana..."
"I could try... if you would be a little quiet, please... I didn't survive everything that happened to me until today only to let myself be trapped now without reacting!"
"This is the spirit, Svetlana! We are with you!"
...but after a while the Savage Wanderer recovers and has a determined light at the bottom of her azure eyes: "Something horrible probably awaits us" she states, matter-of-factly, as a person not surprised by having to face horrible things. "The mists are draining our strength, like a hunter's dogs tiring the prey for them; perhaps we should stop wandering through the fog and camp here. Let's build a fire. Let's regain our strength. And let's be ready for whatever comes".
Svetlana begins to set a good example and collects some sticks, dry leaves and branches to prepare a camp fire... unless someone finds and proposes a better strategy.
Svetlana's analogy of hunting dogs tiring their prey weighs heavily on Rufus. He also likens their situation to laboratory mice locked in a maze. He can't prevent himself from peering upward, half expecting some enormous, monstrous set of eyes to be peering down at them through the mist. "I suppose we have no choice but to wait," he agrees with Svetlana. He kneels and pats Radallion on the shoulder. "Now, now," he offers, trying (but probably failing) to be encouraging. "Try to rest. It isn't all bad. We're together, at least. We'll build a fire. Perhaps, when you've caught your breath, we might hear a song or story to lift our spirits?"
Rufus helps in the search for nearby sticks and leaves that may be dry enough to catch fire. "As long as we're starting a fire, I don't think a light should hurt, either?" He produces from his backpack a thin, elongated tube and a small, sharp scalpel. He punctures the tube in the middle. The tube smokes a bit, and a vivid green light appears that bathes the party, the ground, and the mist in a chymic viridescence. He attaches the tube to a specially designed compartment in his crossbow, which now serves as a weaponized torch. (casting light.) In the green glow, his face appears ghastly. "There now, isn't that better?"
It is about the time that Rufus casts light that everyone sees the contrasting darkness beyond. not moments later, a clamor and rustling in the distance, past the wilderness to the northeast. as the strain of the day and stress of the mists attempts to claim you, I need everyone to roll a CON save.
On a fail, (9 or below) you receive a stress point.
Rufus’s Con save: 13
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens at first smiles happily at Rufus' help. She is then intrigued when he starts fiddling with his tools... and, finally, uncomfortable, at the sight of the green light. And no, it's not for the clamor and rustling in the distance; she just heard it and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. The reason for her upset is another...
"Witchcraft" Svetlana notes, wary.
"Come on, Svetlana..." the Voices in her mind encourage her "You wanted help, didn't you? You didn't get it? So what? Are you being choosy now?"
"My son Segrei knew how to do it too... And with a more beautiful color! It's just a trick, Svetlana. Oh, poor Sergei, my dearest..." confused memories of bloody death follow...
"Focus on serious things, instead! You have to stay alive! So we will partly stay alive too, in you!"
"Of course!" she thinks sacrastically "Continuing to enjoy the company of the thoughts of a hundred thousand massacred elf maidens is precisely the main motivation why I try not to die... But you are right; I must not let myself be influenced by my past... Rufus has only evoked a little of light for the benefit of all. It's not that he is turning me to stone. Not yet, at least".
"But at least, unlike that of the Mists, your witchcraft is to our advantage!" the Savage Wanderer forces herself to admit - and smile again - just a few moments later "Thanks Rufus. It's good that you're on our side".
Once she manages to light the fire, Svetlana also retrieves a small log of wood and some grass to create a sort of relatively comfortable position close to the heat of the fire and helps the prostrate minstrel to rest there: "Here Radallion, Rufus is twice right" she sits next to him and delicately places a hand on his shoulder. "First, resting for a moment will do you good - it will do us all. Second, when you feel up to it, hear a song or story will help us further! I would really like".
That said, the Savage Wanderer seems to relax and take out a pomegranate. She begins to peel it slowly and extract one by one the blood red beans, to bring them to the mouth. "Someone wants some?" she asks to all "It's a bit tricky to eat, but not that much; you see? You pick one of the seeds, these tiny red ones... you put it in your mouth... you crush it with your teeth... hmmm... and you taste the juice! The flavor is not sweet at all and is objectively a bit strong... Either you love it, or you hate it. I belong to the first of the two categories. If you want to find out which one you are part of..." she holds out the half pomegranate that she isn't already eating.
Svetlana's CON save: 22
As the magical light and light of the fire ignite through the rainstorm, it illuminates the haze and mist around you. Effectively blinding you from what's beyond 15 feet of your radius. Although the heat can comfort you, it appears that it also restricts your vision through the mist.
"The heat comforts us..." Svetlana realizes "...but the light effectively restricts our vision through the mist. However, whoever wants to come to us, still has to come within the radius of the light... And considering that soon we will be in the middle of a foggy night, I doubt that putting out the fire would improve our visibility much in the end" and she tries to recover her calm and energy as best she can, remaining alert, but also continuing to taste the pomegranate seeds.
Miralen's CON save 14
Between Svetlana's fire and Rufus' light, the group can no longer see anything except for the darkness beyond the fog around them. The lack of vision makes Miralen feel too vulnerable to sit and wait for what might be coming. She finally decides she can't wait the night out here, and to keep moving, away from the fire and light, so that she might be able to see what could be around them. Where was that noise coming from? The northeast. Miralen starts to head in that direction, hoping that once out of the blinding light, she can see more of her surroundings and any clues to lead her.
Rolling investigation: 3
Lucky reroll for investigation : 14
Ansur Con Save: 13
Ansur worried as the daylight diminishes and the party begins to make camp.. Ansur chimes in, "These paths have no footprints, no treadmarks from anyone but us here, you say witchcraft, I think ye be right! The longer we're here the more risky I thinks..We should take turns on watch, 2 per shift? Camp with some trees at are backs if possible, any cover wuld do... Anyone gots ideas? that wood thing that got picked up a compass or some shit? I'm not the brightest flame in da bunch so I'm thinkin I'm grasping at nuthin"
He begins to take out a piece of jerky to snack on before sitting on the ground just off the road near the rest of the party. He'll help set up camp with whatever supplies they might have.
Con check 18
Radallion lays there a while longer before saying, “yes perhaps I will,” Taking his flute he plays a few feeble notes before rubbing his brow and taking a swig from his flask. Playing again, the fatigue somewhat faded, his tune is a prancing jolly with a firm beat like a galloping horse. After a few verses he stops and say, “Far from here in a little meadow, with a river running through it, there is a nameless horse. Every day she does the same things, she eats the grass, drinks of the river, and runs through the meadow. One day a village boy named Tom watches her seeing her eat the grass, drink of the river, and runs through the meadow. Tom says watching until his mother calls ‘Tom time for dinner’ and Tom leaves. Tom comes back each day watching the nameless horse, one day when he is particularly curious he walks to the horse. He asks ‘tell me horse why is it that you only ever eat the grass, drink of the river, and run through the meadow?’ The horse responds with, ‘It is because I am nameless and free. And it makes me happy.’ Tom nods and leaves when his mother calls him. The next day Tom comes again asking if he has done anything else with her freedom from name before. The horse is puzzled ‘No I eat the grass, drink of the river, and run through the meadow it makes me happy’ Tom shrugs leaving for supper. The nameless horse does not see Tom again for a while.”
Radallion once again plays his flute though it is not as enthused more hesitant than headstrong. Going this way and that without a clear drive or direction.
“She thinks to herself maybe I’ll do something different today so when he comes again I can tell him about it. So instead of eating the grass she rolls in it and eats the leaves. Instead of drinking the rivers water she runs down it, drinking of the lake. Instead of running through the meadow she walks smelling the flowers. When Tom comes the horse tells him of his new use of freedom. Tom laughs ‘I suppose those are a change, but if you had a name you could do more than eat the grass and leaves, drink of the river and lake, and go further than this meadow’. The Nameless horse thinks that perhaps Tom is right so the boy gives her a name.”
He picks up his flute playing a somber tone somewhat eerie in the fog.
“And so the nameless horse became Marin. Though she did many more things than she had done before she was no longer what she had been herself. She was what they called her, and She came when called. One day stuck in the stable she heard two men speaking to one another. ‘My son’s going be born tomorrow I think I’ll name him-‘ but she could not listen she cried that they would never be nameless” Radallion looks into the fire silent for a time before saying “Our paths are tied to out names and so are we. We may never escape them. I can only be glad that mine intersected with yours” he says to the group