Soren rolls his shoulders uncomfortably as Urwin speaks of possible pack leaders, feeling out of his depths in the deep political currents of 'big cities' like Vallaki, and not fully realizing the irony that he himself has been part of the reason for the power vacuum.
"The guard or the nobleman then, Urwin. Either one. Or perhaps both if Grunfeld would accept replacing Izek's role as captain while Stanimir fills the Baron's role as pack leader? With your help, we can try to add finding them to... our list of tasks after we do or do not accept the darklord's invitation."
"Speaking of which, I still think we should not go. It is true, the darklord has not moved directly against us outsiders yet, but I sensed from Ludmilla that our lack of understanding of this land and of his motives are our weakness, and we stand little chance of finding true answers from the lord of that dark stone castle. Ludmilla's words were laced with lies, or at least partial truths told with bad intent. She is an intelligent undead abomination just like him, after all, and Rahadin, while not undead, has an... unnatural aura which reeked to Nettle of untold killing. The darklord will be worse. I think he will try to manipulate or use us as he has already with Ireena by her own description of his control over her mind. Or he may seek to turn us against one another, splitting our pack. And either way, it will leave Lady Bauer on her own if she cannot stay in Vallaki. Not to mention Ireena who the Vampire Spawn seek."
Soren sighs. "Yet we are pack. And if you accept the invitation, then so will I. I hope we can promise each other our trust, and to remain a pack when..."
Cutting off as he hears Burr's booming voice below, Soren turns like a skittish beast scenting a new threat. He makes his way cautiously downstairs.
Burr smiled broadly, " An accident. I mean.....playing with forces beyond your purview but an accident nonetheless. Izek has paid his price for his part in it."
His eyes meet Victors with a little more warmth, " And I will pay mine in time."
" You were both desperate to escape this place......as is anyone with a sound mind........I see no shame in that, perhaps a little recklessness but that is on both of you."
" Victor, as stated I am not one that knows much of your....studies....but was there....by chance a cat within the circle as well when Stella crossed it?"
Burr kept his eye on Victor and could not fault the boy for using the only weapon he had......knowledge about Burrs role in the Wachter murder......but hoped he would realize how badly that would go for all of them in the current situation.
Victor blinks at Burr, the young man's defiance momentarily replaced by confusion. He shifts on his feet, wiping more blood off his sleeve. His voice is tinged with irritation as he replies, "A cat? No, there wasn’t any damn cat in the circle. It was just me and Stella. I didn't make the cats until later... Why would you even ask something like that?"
His brows knit, suspicion dawning in his expression. His eyes narrow, studying Burrfor a moment, clearly trying to decipher what the question implies. "What does that have to do with anything? What are you not telling me?" His tone is sharp, defensive, as though he’s bracing himself for some fresh indignity.
As Victor speaks, the bar remains mostly quiet. The sound of boots descending the stairs breaks the silence. Sorenappears at the bottom step. He is able to take in the scene:
Victor stands stiffly near a toppled chair, his face smeared with blood, glaring at Burr.
Burrlooms nearby, his calm demeanor and broad smile at odds with the tension in the room. Despite his injuries, he seems in control of the situation.
The Wachter brothers hover awkwardly off to the side, their drunken faces etched with confusion and a flicker of guilt. The two wolf hunters linger nearby.
Scattered bar patrons sit, eyes on the spectacle unfolding in front of them. At the bar, Danika is pouring mugs of wine and trying to get people to drink and calm themselves.
Just then, Karl throws a hand up in the air. "Enough of this." He grabs his brother and they turn away. The Wachter brothers shuffle toward the door, clearly fed up with the night’s events. Nikolai looks like he just wants to collapse somewhere quiet, while Karl, still simmering with frustration, grumbles under his breath. As they reach the door, Adrian Martikov steps smoothly into their path. He doesn’t raise his voice or loom over them, but his presence alone halts them in their tracks.
“Gentlemen,” Adrian says, his tone as calm as ever, “I can’t let you leave.”
Karl scowls, his drunken indignation flaring. “What’s it to you, stranger? We’ve had enough of this nonsense.”
Adrian shakes his head, his voice steady. “It’s not safe out there. You know that as well as I do. The night belongs to the dead, now. The smart thing is to stay here until sunrise.”
Nikolai frowns, his drunken haze not enough to obscure the truth of Adrian’s words. “We’ve always made it home before,” he mutters, though his tone lacks conviction.
Adrian’s eyes harden slightly, his expression brooking no argument. “That was before tonight." He pauses, his gaze darting briefly toward the bolted door. “Anyone who opens that door tonight risks letting more than just cold air inside.”
Karl sneers, clearly unimpressed. “You can’t keep us here like prisoners.”
Adrian meets his gaze, unblinking. “I’m not keeping you here. The darkness is.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make Karl take a half-step back. “You walk out that door, and you’re as good as meat. Stay, and you see the sun rise. Your choice.”
Nikolai hesitates, glancing at his younger brother. Karl looks like he might argue further, but Nikolai shakes his head, murmuring, “Let it go, Karl.”
Karl exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw clenched tight. “Fine,” he spits. “But don’t expect us to sit here and play nice.”
Adrian steps aside, gesturing calmly toward the bar. “Suit yourself. Just stay inside.” He watches as the brothers slouch back to their table, muttering darkly.
With the situation defused, Adrian resumes his post by the door. The bar settles back into its uneasy hum.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr moves towards Victor and holds out an arm to pull Victor in close and away from any chance the Wachter boys could overhear.
" I've seen Stella. But she is not herself, but not in the way you said. She is......well.....she is a cat. Her mind at least.....she moves like a cat, interacts like one....which is why I asked."
" Now. We all need to spend the night in here, I would suggest that you come back upstairs."
" But I leave that choice up to you. As I do what you do with the information you already have about me."
He turned and looked upstairs, first to Ireena then to any of his companions who had emerged.
" Please tell me you didn't kill the cats though......", as he moved away.
Zefla watches Soren leave and sees Giles listen to what is going on downstairs. She figures Burr has a handle on it and they need to figure things out here. Not only that, she was in dire need of sleep.
Yawning loudly, the halfling starts fiddling with one of her braids. "Urwin, would your ravens that we have seen on the roof of your Inn be able to help find these people? I think time is not on our side as mobs start to form and the night is overtaking the day. First and foremost, I think we need sleep. Maybe even waiting to make our decision on whether or not to meet up with Strahd after a good long rest. I know people are at odds about it currently, and I will stick with my group on what we do, but know your enemy and all that is where I'm leaning."
She yawns again and leans her head against the wall. The situation and the nights events starting to overcome her. She looks to Urwin, "Could we get some rest?"
After a long pause, taking in the scene and the altercations, physical and verbal, Soren speaks, his voice quiet. Tired. Addressing everyone and no one.
"Adrian Martikov speaks truly. All is not well in Vallaki. My companions and I have battled undead horrors and fiery fiends tonight and nearly perished doing so, yet more still walk the streets as the darklord's servants ride openly inside the walls. Within this den, we should not fight each other."
Soren's wounds and burns stand out starkly on his pale face, and his large brown eyes gaze like a wolf's. An exhausted wolf.
He makes eye contact with Victor. He remembers Madame Eva's divinations. ...An ally. This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness... she frowns... but it also speaks of isolation and imprisonment; of one who is trapped in their own beliefs. You must search for a troubled young man surrounded by wealth and madness. His home is his prison; his family his restraints...
Softly, Soren speaks a single word in Elvish. The worst of the damage and bruising to the young nobleman's nose lessens and eases.
Giles descends the stairs, moving over to Burr and saying to him and Viktor, “Come upstairs, we are going to get some rest.” Turning to Burr and assessing his injuries, he says “You need it.” As he does so, he reaches his hands out and saying some words in a slurred voice under his breath, he heals the warrior, touching his arm where it was burned, the healing energy going into him. Turning to Viktor, he says “C’mon, we need to rest, let’s head upstairs.” He turns back and continues walking back upstairs, suddenly feeling the weight of the world and significant exhaustion with what they have been through tonight. He looks to any room or space that Urwin might have for them, desiring sleep and hoping that right choices and wisdom will come to him in his dreams..
Giles casts cure wounds on Burr, for 12 points of healing.
Victor's expression darkens as Burrspeaks, his sharp features twisting with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. “A cat?” he mutters, almost to himself. “That makes no sense...” His words trail off.
When Burrmentions the choice of returning upstairs, Victor looks around the room, his posture stiff. He glances briefly at the Wachter brothers, Adrian by the door, and then at Sorenas the druid speaks. After a beat, he mutters something under his breath and falls in line to return upstairs.
As Sorenspeaks, the room quiets, his tired voice unopposed. The patrons listen in varying states of unease, some shaking their heads while others glance nervously at the bolted door. His words about the darklord’s servants riding openly send a shiver through the crowd, a few muttering prayers to the Morninglord for protection. Adrian remains at his post by the door, his stance steady and vigilant. He nods in silent agreement to Soren’swords, though his lips tighten as if he wishes the druid hadn’t reminded everyone just how dire the situation is. His watchful gaze flickers to each face in the room, his body language calm but prepared for any further disturbances.
The healing energy from Sorencauses Victor to flinch, his hand instinctively moving to his face. As the pain lessens, he looks at Sorenwith confusion but says nothing. His eyes linger on the druid, before giving a curt nod. Then Soren, Giles, Burrand Victor return upstairs.
There, Urwin, Zeflaand Tourmaline are still talking.
Urwin listens to Zeflawith a thoughtful expression, his hands clasped behind his back. He nods as she mentions the ravens. “I'll see what they can do,” he says quietly. “But not until morning. The night is no more their domain than it is ours.”
When Zeflaasks about sleep, Urwin offers a faint smile, though his weariness is evident. “I’ll prepare rooms for you. The men may sleep here, the ladies in the next room on the left side of the hall. You’ve earned your rest, all of you." He sighs heavily. "It will be a long night, but The Bluewater Inn is safe, I promise you that. And I will see that you are roused with the dawn.”
[The party and their allies are able to settle into their two rooms for the night, Zeflawith Tourmalineand Ireena, and the boys in the other room. You may all take a LONG REST. You also have reached Level 5.]
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
As Soren stumbles to his bed, the weight of the day's events staggers him like a falling fir tree deep in Neverwinter Wood. The suppressed sense that he is stumbling through dark parts of the forest where he does not belong raises its head like a fearful doe scenting a lurking predator.
He forces himself to stop. To breathe. To look at his companions, and out the window into the living darkness. He closes his eyes and meditates, reaching out, murmuring. Not praying to Silvanus as a cleric might, yet quietly beseeching the Forest Father's guidance nonetheless.
There must be some way forward for us. For our pack. Some balanced path for the living of this world that shuns both the cold undeath all around us and the fiendish fire that consumed the man-den, that cuts through all the rivalry and bickering of city folk and revives the sickly life clinging to damp soil under dim sunless mists, that survives the malevolence and manipulation of the dark lord in his dark castle...
Soren is not surprised when Silvanus does not answer. The Forest Father seldom does. But after a time, down in his hands, he finds 10 berries, Though it is possible that he is surprised by the appearance and feel of the berries as he was by his skeletal spirit bear and deathly Spike Growth.
(Soren uses his final spell slot for the night to cast Goodberry - each of the 10 berries lasts 24 hours, sufficing as a meal and healing 1 hp when eaten.)
Feeling no less tired, but ever so slightly less troubled, the lost shepherd finds his way to a fitful sleep, awakening at dawn.
Burr collapses into a heap completely spent though not as injured as he was earlier. He sleeps the sleep of the dead.......and in his dreams the dead visit him chasing away any hag-wrought nightmares with primeval might.
When Kavan came to Burr it was as a pale blood soaked form, Burr was no longer in Vallaki but in a deep valley of the Balinok Mountains....the time was centuries before the arrival of Strahd von Zarovich. Burr saw other forms behind Kavan, worm-white warriors crawling from caves, pits and crevasses their mouths stained crimson and Burr found his own mouth filled with warm blood.
He swallowed it and delighted in the metallic taste on his tongue.
Kavan came forward, his red-stained braids and chalk-painted visage stark against the darkness.
" You are my weapon, take back my land. Blood belongs to the living not the dead."
When Burr woke he felt focused, weathered......indomitable....
Giles lies awake looking at the ceiling for a while, then he finds strength and calm in his prayers to his Lady, as he fingers his coin, flipping it up and down, and finally feeling it in his palms. He concentrates as he is literally falling asleep, reviewing the events of the last 24 hours, the face of Izek and the thing that it turned into, the faces of Rahadin and Ludmilla....
He wakes up ready for the day, somehow feeling stronger, feeling that they are being baked in the crucible of Barovia. What doesn't kill me will make me stronger, right? Or, it will make me into... something else. Brrrr... His eyes open and he sits up.
The party awakens to the gentle, rhythmic tapping of knuckles against their doors. The air inside the rooms feels heavy with exhaustion, but outside the barred windows, the grey dawn offers little comfort. The empty streets below, bathed in a muted light, seem lifeless. Darker grey clouds blot the skyline in the distance—smoke from smoldering fires or just the ever-present mists of Barovia—it is impossible to tell.
The inn itself is silent, save for the faint creak of floorboards as Urwin moves about out in the halls. When the party open their doors and meet in the hall, they find him looking utterly spent, his pale features drawn with sleepless worry. His hands are clasped in front of him, fingers tightening and loosening reflexively as though wrestling with his concerns.
Urwin takes a deep breath before addressing them, his voice low but steady. "There were no attacks on the inn last night," he begins, his dark eyes flickering briefly to the barred door, "but I’ve sent inquiries out to learn what else might have happened around town in the darkness. I’ll know more later in the day."
He hesitates, his gaze shifting downward before he continues. "I also sent someone to Wachterhaus. It... was too late. The house was empty." He pauses to let the words settle, though his expression suggests he wishes he didn’t have to say them at all.
"There were no bodies—no sign of Fiona in the basement, nor of her manservant upstairs. Her daughter’s room was empty as well. The hidden basement room had been wiped clean. No pentagrams. No occult symbols. Someone had already cleared the scene."
Victor tenses at these words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His lips part as if to say something, but he holds his tongue.
Urwin continues. "As for the Wachter twins, they left with the first light. Bleary-eyed and hungover. They were headed home... or at least toward what’s left of it. I don’t know how they’ll react to an empty house or if whoever cleared the scene has plans for them."
Finally, he straightens, rubbing his temple. "I’ll begin looking for the two possible leaders we discussed. Vallaki needs someone to pull us together, especially now. But I need to ask—have you decided whether to accept the Darklord’s invitation?"
Looking around the hall, the party takes in the condition of their allies: Tourmaline looks significantly improved, her face still bruised but her demeanor calmer than it had been last night; Though outwardly composed, Ireena’smovements are slower, her face pale and drawn. Shadows under her eyes betray a troubled night, and her hands fidget unconsciously; The young mage is visibly agitated, his jaw tightening as Urwin recounts the scene at Wachterhaus. He paces the room briefly, muttering to himself, though the words are too soft to make out. At Urwin’s mention of Strahd's invitation, Victor snaps his head around, his eyes searching for your answer.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Soren's disquiet at Urwin's words is better concealed than it would have been just a few days ago. Barovia has been nothing but disquieting from the start, and the druid is shakily becoming almost accustomed to the feeling. Someone... 'cleared the scene'?? Plots within plots for these city folk...
Casting a worried glance at Ireena, Soren turns back to Urwin to answer, his voice strained.
"All of you already know what I think about accepting the darklord's invitation, and also that however the pack decides, I will accept it and join. However, it is possible that my link with the Forest Father has strengthened enough despite the barriers blocking off this land to afford me some very basic sense of what is to come. I feel I must at least try to glean what may result from this possibly momentous decision."
Assuming there remain at least ten minutes before the party must choose whether to meet Strahd's carriage, Soren asks Urwin for a private room wherein he can meditate. Once there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, Soren closes his eyes, touches his druidic focus. Gently before him, he lays out two tiny pieces of unburnt, rune-engraved wood from his lost sylvan home, one signifying the balance of nature (weal), and the other signifying imbalance, whether through chaotic destruction such as fire, or through malign control such as from an evil lord or demigod (woe). He reaches out to Silvanus with his heart...
Soren ritually casts Augury, attempting to determine whether the decision to accept Strahd's invitation likely leads to weal, woe, both or neither.
Burr is gutpunched by the news that the Wachter daughter is missing though he tries to tell himself that the two servants might have taken her away to safety he suspects it is only wishful thinking.....
" The Wachter servants? Did they have relatives in Vallaki?" , Burr asks mindful of Victors barely concealed anger.
" As for Strahds invitation. Yes, I would look this dead-thing in the eye."
Zefla nods as she hears the report from Urwin. Turning to Soren, "Do you think the cleanup has anything to do with the woman you saw watching the house?" She about mentions Stella, but seeing Victor and Burr's face, decides against it and just hopes the poor tortured girl is alright.
She sidles up next to Ireena and softly asks, "Are you alright? Did something... did something visit you in your dreams?" Then after hearing her response she'll address the rest. "I agree with Burr I'm afraid, but Soren, I am curious to hear what your Forest Father has to say." And to Urwin, "I hate to ask more of you, but if we do go, are you able to keep these women safe? You have been more than helpful to us, especially as things seem to be falling down around us. I do hope you're able to find these possible leaders and they step up to the plate."
Turning to Tourmaline as they wait for Soren's spell, "You mentioned your spellbook earlier.. did it not come through with you in the mists? Or were you separated from it here in Vallaki and we need to find it?"
[There is time. You were roused at dawn, and were 'invited' to meet the carriage outside the eastern gate an hour hence. Even with some time spent dressing and in conversation, there is enough time for Soren'sritual.]
Sorensteps back into one of the rooms and closes the door behind him.
At Burr'squestion about the Wachterhaus servants, Urwin rubs his eyes. "I regret to say... I don't know. I have learned much in my time as an innkeeper, and developed means to learn more. But there is still much about the people of this town which is unknown to me. I can look into it."
Meanwhile, Zeflaapproaches Ireena. Her face is pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. At Zefla'squestion Ireenahesitates at first, glancing down as she rubs her arms. Her voice is quiet when she finally speaks.
Zefla:
“It wasn’t Strahd,” she begins, her gaze flickering up to Zefla. “It was… her. The old woman. The one with the cart and the pastries.”
She swallows hard, her voice trembling as she continues. “She was in my dreams. She showed me the little girl we saved… Saskia... dragged away, screaming for help. And I couldn’t do anything. I tried, but she just laughed at me.”
Her hands grip her knees tightly, knuckles white. “It felt so real, Zefla. Her voice—it was everywhere, taunting me, telling me I’d failed. I couldn’t sleep after that. I just… couldn’t.” Ireenaglances up, her eyes haunted. “What if she’s going after Saskia? What if she’s trying to punish us through her?”
When she questions Urwin, he appears tired but resolute. He listens to Zefla’s question, his expression softening for a moment as he glances toward Ireena, Tourmaline, and Victor. His weariness shows in the deep lines of his face and the way he leans against the bar, but his voice remains steady.
“I’ll do all I can to keep them safe today,” he says firmly, meeting Zefla’sgaze. “You have my word on that, whatever the cost.”
He pauses, his eyes shadowed with worry. “But Zefla… Strahd knows Ireena's here. Victor isn’t exactly subtle, and after last night, I’d wager half the town knows he’s under this roof. If Strahd doesn’t come for them, the Wachters—or someone else—might.”
Urwin straightens slightly, his tone gentle but serious. “I’m not saying you’re not welcome, but this place… it’s defensible but it's no fortress. You’ll need to start thinking about finding somewhere else to hide... somewhere safer for the long nights to come. Somewhere Strahd’s eyes aren’t already watching.”
He looks back at the group, his shoulders sagging slightly. “For now, we’ll keep watch. But think on it. The time to move may come sooner than we’d like.”
Tourmalinenods sardonically when Zeflaasks about the book. "Oh, it came through the mists with me, all right. I had it right here," she adds, patting an empty clip on her belt where her bookbag once hung. "Until I met the Vallaki welcoming committee. After they captured me they took it. I didn't see it in my prison cell. I don't want to think it went up in flames with that mansion, but I can't think of any more likely option."
Soren:
Soren completes the simple ritual and clears his mind, waiting for a sign. The runed twigs rest motionless for several moments, and the air seems to grow heavier as if the room itself holds its breath. Then, almost imperceptibly at first, the twigs begin to tremble. A faint glow suffuses each one, the light pulsing faintly in rhythm with Soren’s heartbeat.
The twig signifying weal glows with a verdant green, its carvings illuminated as though filled with sunlight filtering through ancient trees. The twig signifying woe smolders faintly with a dark light, its edges seeming to blacken as if withering.
With little warning, both twigs begin to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster, blurring as their light intensifies. The air fills with an almost imperceptible hum, like the rustle of wind through leaves overlayed with the distant crackle of flames.
As Soren watches, the two twigs collide with an audible 'crack', flying off to opposite corners of the room. For a brief moment, the lights—green and dark—flare brightly before fading.
Collecting the pieces, they are undamaged, but the message is clear: this path promises both weal and woe, in great abundance. To walk it is to accept both the blessings and the curses that lie ahead.
Victor catches Burrin a quiet moment as the party waits for Sorento emerge from the room. His face, usually set in a deliberate combination of disdain and aloofness, is marred by a flicker of something more complex—guilt or determination, perhaps. He approaches Burrwith an awkward gait, as if forcing himself to cross an invisible threshold.
Burr:
“Listen,”Victor begins, his tone clipped and reluctant, “I don’t much care for you. And I don’t think you care much for me either. But that doesn’t matter right now.”
He shifts his weight uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they aren’t overheard. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, and there’s an undercurrent of genuine sincerity beneath his usual bravado.
“You mentioned Stella last night. You seem inclined to worry about her condition—more than most would. I won’t claim I share your sentiment, but… I made her a promise once. Back when we were working together. Researching.”
Victor pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s deciding how much of himself he’s willing to expose. “I told her that if I found a way out of this gods-forsaken valley, I’d bring her with me. No matter what. I gave her my word.” His gaze hardens, and his voice takes on a steely edge. “And I am still a Vallakovich. Whatever else that might mean, it means something to me to keep my promises.”
Victor crosses his arms, staring Burrdown. “So here’s the deal. If we’re going to work together—if I’m going to cooperate with all your grand schemes about taking up arms against the devil himself—then you need to promise me something in return. When we find a way out, whether it’s by killing Strahd or some miracle none of us see coming, we’re going to find Stella. And we’re going to make sure she gets out too. If we can fix whatever this 'cat' issue is, wonderful. But either way, sound or broken, she is coming with us.”
His jaw tightens, and he steps a little closer, his voice low and firm. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how hard it is. I gave my word, and I need yours now that you’ll help me see it through.”
Victor’s eyes lock onto Burr’s, searching for any sign of hesitation. For all his abrasiveness, there’s a raw, unyielding sincerity in his expression now. It’s clear that this promise, this insistence, is more than a bargaining chip—this means something to him. And this moment, stepping up and confronting someone like Burr, teen-to-man, seems to be important to him as well.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr looks at Victor, his eyes then drift to Tourmaline and Ireena before coming back to Victor again, there is no hesitation whatsoever when he says, " I give my word. If by my deed or life I can deliver her safely from here I will do so. May Kavan drink my heartsblood if i speak false."
Soren remains staring at the wooden fragments for a long moment as the green and black strobes fade from vision after casting Augury for the first time.
Is it always like this, I wonder? The chaos clashing with balance with such force. Are we four truly so unstable a catalyst of weal and woe?
He thinks of the destruction that has befallen Vallaki and many of its residents in just the past two days, but then he thinks of saving the girl from the lake, of restoring the winery and its vineyards, of defeating the emergent abomination atop Yester Hill. It is not colder than normal, yet Soren shivers.
Rising shakily, he gathers and stows his druidic focus and rune-covered wooden implements and makes his way to join the others.
"I was not expecting such an intense result from my augury. My wooden divining implements clashed violently and flared with both light and darkness. I believe Silvanus has spoken to me, yet I do not fully understand the Forest Father's message. There will be weal and woe, benefit and suffering, growth and destruction, benediction and curse. Both, and in great quantity if we accept the darklord's invitation."
"My reasons for not accepting remain the same. Not only may the darklord seek to use us, manipulate us, learn our weaknesses, turn us against one another, mark us in some way that makes us his, but the rest of Barovia may also be watching, like the pack watches when the pack alpha summons four young upstarts. Accepting the invitation may send a message, perhaps even to those who would oppose him that they cannot trust us."
"And if we decline, we could accompany Lady Bauer and Ireena elsewhere. Vallaki no longer seems safe. Perhaps back to the winery with Adrian Martikov. Perhaps to this village of Krezk further west on the map which Ludmilla mentioned does not accept visitors - yet they might if we come bearing a cartload of wine casks. Or elsewhere, we could inquire about the dusk elves once more since Madame Eva suggested one of them holds knowledge about our enemy. Or continue our search for the den of wolves. Or confront the dream-eating witches of the windmill."
Soren bows his head. "And yet, I cannot ignore Silvanus' omen that accepting the invitation may bring great weal. I will go as the pack chooses."
Seeing Ireena in the state she was... after seeing her with such ferocity when she was weakened and her father had just died... well it brings the situation to a more dire forefront for Zefla and she puts her small arm as best she can around the fighter. "Saskia, she's at that orphanage that was affiliated with the church, right? Should we head there and see how she is?" she then hangs her head a bit after giving Ireena a small hug with the arm and takes it back. "I didn't realize that woman could haunt our dreams as well."
Looking up at Soren and the others, "The dreams that are haunting you and Burr... those were from the ones at the windmill, no? Is the one that sold the pastries from the windmill as well? I feel like we should head there sooner rather than later."
Turning back to Urwin, she nods. "You have my thanks. Mine and of my companions, for keeping them safe and for last night. We truly didn't have any other thought than to come here after what had happened, we appreciate knowing there is a safe place to come to... at least for now." She pauses for a minute and then offers up, "When we first came here through the mists we came upon a deserted house on the edge of Bavaria, I know Strahd knew of it at some point as someone who stood up against him killed himself there instead of facing the monsters Strahd had promised in a letter he had sent the man." Zefla fills Urwin in of the situation they found at the empty manor with the windmill glass. "I know it is quite a ways away, so probably not worth even mentioning, but yet, I felt compelled to?" she shrugs, just wanting as much on the table with these people as she could to try and help.
She sighs and then turns to Viktor, "I don't suppose your manor had a basement or vault or something underground that might have survived that inferno? A place where they stashed important things?"
"I still think we should meet with Strahd. What do you think Giles?"
Burr looks up sharply when he hears Saskias name, he frowns at Zefla, " Thats them. Did you say Saskia is taken? I know she disappeared in the aftermath of the attack on the church...but I'd hoped she was in hiding."
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Soren rolls his shoulders uncomfortably as Urwin speaks of possible pack leaders, feeling out of his depths in the deep political currents of 'big cities' like Vallaki, and not fully realizing the irony that he himself has been part of the reason for the power vacuum.
"The guard or the nobleman then, Urwin. Either one. Or perhaps both if Grunfeld would accept replacing Izek's role as captain while Stanimir fills the Baron's role as pack leader? With your help, we can try to add finding them to... our list of tasks after we do or do not accept the darklord's invitation."
"Speaking of which, I still think we should not go. It is true, the darklord has not moved directly against us outsiders yet, but I sensed from Ludmilla that our lack of understanding of this land and of his motives are our weakness, and we stand little chance of finding true answers from the lord of that dark stone castle. Ludmilla's words were laced with lies, or at least partial truths told with bad intent. She is an intelligent undead abomination just like him, after all, and Rahadin, while not undead, has an... unnatural aura which reeked to Nettle of untold killing. The darklord will be worse. I think he will try to manipulate or use us as he has already with Ireena by her own description of his control over her mind. Or he may seek to turn us against one another, splitting our pack. And either way, it will leave Lady Bauer on her own if she cannot stay in Vallaki. Not to mention Ireena who the Vampire Spawn seek."
Soren sighs. "Yet we are pack. And if you accept the invitation, then so will I. I hope we can promise each other our trust, and to remain a pack when..."
Cutting off as he hears Burr's booming voice below, Soren turns like a skittish beast scenting a new threat. He makes his way cautiously downstairs.
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return
Burr smiled broadly, " An accident. I mean.....playing with forces beyond your purview but an accident nonetheless. Izek has paid his price for his part in it."
His eyes meet Victors with a little more warmth, " And I will pay mine in time."
" You were both desperate to escape this place......as is anyone with a sound mind........I see no shame in that, perhaps a little recklessness but that is on both of you."
" Victor, as stated I am not one that knows much of your....studies....but was there....by chance a cat within the circle as well when Stella crossed it?"
Burr kept his eye on Victor and could not fault the boy for using the only weapon he had......knowledge about Burrs role in the Wachter murder......but hoped he would realize how badly that would go for all of them in the current situation.
Victor blinks at Burr, the young man's defiance momentarily replaced by confusion. He shifts on his feet, wiping more blood off his sleeve. His voice is tinged with irritation as he replies, "A cat? No, there wasn’t any damn cat in the circle. It was just me and Stella. I didn't make the cats until later... Why would you even ask something like that?"
His brows knit, suspicion dawning in his expression. His eyes narrow, studying Burr for a moment, clearly trying to decipher what the question implies. "What does that have to do with anything? What are you not telling me?" His tone is sharp, defensive, as though he’s bracing himself for some fresh indignity.
As Victor speaks, the bar remains mostly quiet. The sound of boots descending the stairs breaks the silence. Soren appears at the bottom step. He is able to take in the scene:
Victor stands stiffly near a toppled chair, his face smeared with blood, glaring at Burr.
Burr looms nearby, his calm demeanor and broad smile at odds with the tension in the room. Despite his injuries, he seems in control of the situation.
The Wachter brothers hover awkwardly off to the side, their drunken faces etched with confusion and a flicker of guilt. The two wolf hunters linger nearby.
Scattered bar patrons sit, eyes on the spectacle unfolding in front of them. At the bar, Danika is pouring mugs of wine and trying to get people to drink and calm themselves.
Just then, Karl throws a hand up in the air. "Enough of this." He grabs his brother and they turn away. The Wachter brothers shuffle toward the door, clearly fed up with the night’s events. Nikolai looks like he just wants to collapse somewhere quiet, while Karl, still simmering with frustration, grumbles under his breath. As they reach the door, Adrian Martikov steps smoothly into their path. He doesn’t raise his voice or loom over them, but his presence alone halts them in their tracks.
“Gentlemen,” Adrian says, his tone as calm as ever, “I can’t let you leave.”
Karl scowls, his drunken indignation flaring. “What’s it to you, stranger? We’ve had enough of this nonsense.”
Adrian shakes his head, his voice steady. “It’s not safe out there. You know that as well as I do. The night belongs to the dead, now. The smart thing is to stay here until sunrise.”
Nikolai frowns, his drunken haze not enough to obscure the truth of Adrian’s words. “We’ve always made it home before,” he mutters, though his tone lacks conviction.
Adrian’s eyes harden slightly, his expression brooking no argument. “That was before tonight." He pauses, his gaze darting briefly toward the bolted door. “Anyone who opens that door tonight risks letting more than just cold air inside.”
Karl sneers, clearly unimpressed. “You can’t keep us here like prisoners.”
Adrian meets his gaze, unblinking. “I’m not keeping you here. The darkness is.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make Karl take a half-step back. “You walk out that door, and you’re as good as meat. Stay, and you see the sun rise. Your choice.”
Nikolai hesitates, glancing at his younger brother. Karl looks like he might argue further, but Nikolai shakes his head, murmuring, “Let it go, Karl.”
Karl exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw clenched tight. “Fine,” he spits. “But don’t expect us to sit here and play nice.”
Adrian steps aside, gesturing calmly toward the bar. “Suit yourself. Just stay inside.” He watches as the brothers slouch back to their table, muttering darkly.
With the situation defused, Adrian resumes his post by the door. The bar settles back into its uneasy hum.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr moves towards Victor and holds out an arm to pull Victor in close and away from any chance the Wachter boys could overhear.
" I've seen Stella. But she is not herself, but not in the way you said. She is......well.....she is a cat. Her mind at least.....she moves like a cat, interacts like one....which is why I asked."
" Now. We all need to spend the night in here, I would suggest that you come back upstairs."
" But I leave that choice up to you. As I do what you do with the information you already have about me."
He turned and looked upstairs, first to Ireena then to any of his companions who had emerged.
" Please tell me you didn't kill the cats though......", as he moved away.
Zefla watches Soren leave and sees Giles listen to what is going on downstairs. She figures Burr has a handle on it and they need to figure things out here. Not only that, she was in dire need of sleep.
Yawning loudly, the halfling starts fiddling with one of her braids. "Urwin, would your ravens that we have seen on the roof of your Inn be able to help find these people? I think time is not on our side as mobs start to form and the night is overtaking the day. First and foremost, I think we need sleep. Maybe even waiting to make our decision on whether or not to meet up with Strahd after a good long rest. I know people are at odds about it currently, and I will stick with my group on what we do, but know your enemy and all that is where I'm leaning."
She yawns again and leans her head against the wall. The situation and the nights events starting to overcome her. She looks to Urwin, "Could we get some rest?"
After a long pause, taking in the scene and the altercations, physical and verbal, Soren speaks, his voice quiet. Tired. Addressing everyone and no one.
"Adrian Martikov speaks truly. All is not well in Vallaki. My companions and I have battled undead horrors and fiery fiends tonight and nearly perished doing so, yet more still walk the streets as the darklord's servants ride openly inside the walls. Within this den, we should not fight each other."
Soren's wounds and burns stand out starkly on his pale face, and his large brown eyes gaze like a wolf's. An exhausted wolf.
He makes eye contact with Victor. He remembers Madame Eva's divinations. ...An ally. This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness... she frowns... but it also speaks of isolation and imprisonment; of one who is trapped in their own beliefs. You must search for a troubled young man surrounded by wealth and madness. His home is his prison; his family his restraints...
Softly, Soren speaks a single word in Elvish. The worst of the damage and bruising to the young nobleman's nose lessens and eases.
Healing Word: Victor heals 6 hp.
Without further words, the druid turns to make his way back upstairs, intending to strive for what sleep he can before whatever the dawn brings.
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return
Giles descends the stairs, moving over to Burr and saying to him and Viktor, “Come upstairs, we are going to get some rest.” Turning to Burr and assessing his injuries, he says “You need it.” As he does so, he reaches his hands out and saying some words in a slurred voice under his breath, he heals the warrior, touching his arm where it was burned, the healing energy going into him. Turning to Viktor, he says “C’mon, we need to rest, let’s head upstairs.” He turns back and continues walking back upstairs, suddenly feeling the weight of the world and significant exhaustion with what they have been through tonight. He looks to any room or space that Urwin might have for them, desiring sleep and hoping that right choices and wisdom will come to him in his dreams..
Giles casts cure wounds on Burr, for 12 points of healing.
Victor's expression darkens as Burr speaks, his sharp features twisting with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. “A cat?” he mutters, almost to himself. “That makes no sense...” His words trail off.
When Burr mentions the choice of returning upstairs, Victor looks around the room, his posture stiff. He glances briefly at the Wachter brothers, Adrian by the door, and then at Soren as the druid speaks. After a beat, he mutters something under his breath and falls in line to return upstairs.
As Soren speaks, the room quiets, his tired voice unopposed. The patrons listen in varying states of unease, some shaking their heads while others glance nervously at the bolted door. His words about the darklord’s servants riding openly send a shiver through the crowd, a few muttering prayers to the Morninglord for protection. Adrian remains at his post by the door, his stance steady and vigilant. He nods in silent agreement to Soren’s words, though his lips tighten as if he wishes the druid hadn’t reminded everyone just how dire the situation is. His watchful gaze flickers to each face in the room, his body language calm but prepared for any further disturbances.
The healing energy from Soren causes Victor to flinch, his hand instinctively moving to his face. As the pain lessens, he looks at Soren with confusion but says nothing. His eyes linger on the druid, before giving a curt nod. Then Soren, Giles, Burr and Victor return upstairs.
There, Urwin, Zefla and Tourmaline are still talking.
Urwin listens to Zefla with a thoughtful expression, his hands clasped behind his back. He nods as she mentions the ravens. “I'll see what they can do,” he says quietly. “But not until morning. The night is no more their domain than it is ours.”
When Zefla asks about sleep, Urwin offers a faint smile, though his weariness is evident. “I’ll prepare rooms for you. The men may sleep here, the ladies in the next room on the left side of the hall. You’ve earned your rest, all of you." He sighs heavily. "It will be a long night, but The Bluewater Inn is safe, I promise you that. And I will see that you are roused with the dawn.”
[The party and their allies are able to settle into their two rooms for the night, Zefla with Tourmaline and Ireena, and the boys in the other room. You may all take a LONG REST. You also have reached Level 5.]
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
As Soren stumbles to his bed, the weight of the day's events staggers him like a falling fir tree deep in Neverwinter Wood. The suppressed sense that he is stumbling through dark parts of the forest where he does not belong raises its head like a fearful doe scenting a lurking predator.
He forces himself to stop. To breathe. To look at his companions, and out the window into the living darkness. He closes his eyes and meditates, reaching out, murmuring. Not praying to Silvanus as a cleric might, yet quietly beseeching the Forest Father's guidance nonetheless.
There must be some way forward for us. For our pack. Some balanced path for the living of this world that shuns both the cold undeath all around us and the fiendish fire that consumed the man-den, that cuts through all the rivalry and bickering of city folk and revives the sickly life clinging to damp soil under dim sunless mists, that survives the malevolence and manipulation of the dark lord in his dark castle...
Soren is not surprised when Silvanus does not answer. The Forest Father seldom does. But after a time, down in his hands, he finds 10 berries, Though it is possible that he is surprised by the appearance and feel of the berries as he was by his skeletal spirit bear and deathly Spike Growth.
(Soren uses his final spell slot for the night to cast Goodberry - each of the 10 berries lasts 24 hours, sufficing as a meal and healing 1 hp when eaten.)
Feeling no less tired, but ever so slightly less troubled, the lost shepherd finds his way to a fitful sleep, awakening at dawn.
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return
Burr collapses into a heap completely spent though not as injured as he was earlier. He sleeps the sleep of the dead.......and in his dreams the dead visit him chasing away any hag-wrought nightmares with primeval might.
When Kavan came to Burr it was as a pale blood soaked form, Burr was no longer in Vallaki but in a deep valley of the Balinok Mountains....the time was centuries before the arrival of Strahd von Zarovich. Burr saw other forms behind Kavan, worm-white warriors crawling from caves, pits and crevasses their mouths stained crimson and Burr found his own mouth filled with warm blood.
He swallowed it and delighted in the metallic taste on his tongue.
Kavan came forward, his red-stained braids and chalk-painted visage stark against the darkness.
" You are my weapon, take back my land. Blood belongs to the living not the dead."
When Burr woke he felt focused, weathered......indomitable....
Giles lies awake looking at the ceiling for a while, then he finds strength and calm in his prayers to his Lady, as he fingers his coin, flipping it up and down, and finally feeling it in his palms. He concentrates as he is literally falling asleep, reviewing the events of the last 24 hours, the face of Izek and the thing that it turned into, the faces of Rahadin and Ludmilla....
He wakes up ready for the day, somehow feeling stronger, feeling that they are being baked in the crucible of Barovia. What doesn't kill me will make me stronger, right? Or, it will make me into... something else. Brrrr... His eyes open and he sits up.
The party awakens to the gentle, rhythmic tapping of knuckles against their doors. The air inside the rooms feels heavy with exhaustion, but outside the barred windows, the grey dawn offers little comfort. The empty streets below, bathed in a muted light, seem lifeless. Darker grey clouds blot the skyline in the distance—smoke from smoldering fires or just the ever-present mists of Barovia—it is impossible to tell.
The inn itself is silent, save for the faint creak of floorboards as Urwin moves about out in the halls. When the party open their doors and meet in the hall, they find him looking utterly spent, his pale features drawn with sleepless worry. His hands are clasped in front of him, fingers tightening and loosening reflexively as though wrestling with his concerns.
Urwin takes a deep breath before addressing them, his voice low but steady. "There were no attacks on the inn last night," he begins, his dark eyes flickering briefly to the barred door, "but I’ve sent inquiries out to learn what else might have happened around town in the darkness. I’ll know more later in the day."
He hesitates, his gaze shifting downward before he continues. "I also sent someone to Wachterhaus. It... was too late. The house was empty." He pauses to let the words settle, though his expression suggests he wishes he didn’t have to say them at all.
"There were no bodies—no sign of Fiona in the basement, nor of her manservant upstairs. Her daughter’s room was empty as well. The hidden basement room had been wiped clean. No pentagrams. No occult symbols. Someone had already cleared the scene."
Victor tenses at these words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His lips part as if to say something, but he holds his tongue.
Urwin continues. "As for the Wachter twins, they left with the first light. Bleary-eyed and hungover. They were headed home... or at least toward what’s left of it. I don’t know how they’ll react to an empty house or if whoever cleared the scene has plans for them."
Finally, he straightens, rubbing his temple. "I’ll begin looking for the two possible leaders we discussed. Vallaki needs someone to pull us together, especially now. But I need to ask—have you decided whether to accept the Darklord’s invitation?"
Looking around the hall, the party takes in the condition of their allies: Tourmaline looks significantly improved, her face still bruised but her demeanor calmer than it had been last night; Though outwardly composed, Ireena’s movements are slower, her face pale and drawn. Shadows under her eyes betray a troubled night, and her hands fidget unconsciously; The young mage is visibly agitated, his jaw tightening as Urwin recounts the scene at Wachterhaus. He paces the room briefly, muttering to himself, though the words are too soft to make out. At Urwin’s mention of Strahd's invitation, Victor snaps his head around, his eyes searching for your answer.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Soren's disquiet at Urwin's words is better concealed than it would have been just a few days ago. Barovia has been nothing but disquieting from the start, and the druid is shakily becoming almost accustomed to the feeling. Someone... 'cleared the scene'?? Plots within plots for these city folk...
Casting a worried glance at Ireena, Soren turns back to Urwin to answer, his voice strained.
"All of you already know what I think about accepting the darklord's invitation, and also that however the pack decides, I will accept it and join. However, it is possible that my link with the Forest Father has strengthened enough despite the barriers blocking off this land to afford me some very basic sense of what is to come. I feel I must at least try to glean what may result from this possibly momentous decision."
Assuming there remain at least ten minutes before the party must choose whether to meet Strahd's carriage, Soren asks Urwin for a private room wherein he can meditate. Once there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, Soren closes his eyes, touches his druidic focus. Gently before him, he lays out two tiny pieces of unburnt, rune-engraved wood from his lost sylvan home, one signifying the balance of nature (weal), and the other signifying imbalance, whether through chaotic destruction such as fire, or through malign control such as from an evil lord or demigod (woe). He reaches out to Silvanus with his heart...
Soren ritually casts Augury, attempting to determine whether the decision to accept Strahd's invitation likely leads to weal, woe, both or neither.
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return
Burr is gutpunched by the news that the Wachter daughter is missing though he tries to tell himself that the two servants might have taken her away to safety he suspects it is only wishful thinking.....
" The Wachter servants? Did they have relatives in Vallaki?" , Burr asks mindful of Victors barely concealed anger.
" As for Strahds invitation. Yes, I would look this dead-thing in the eye."
Zefla nods as she hears the report from Urwin. Turning to Soren, "Do you think the cleanup has anything to do with the woman you saw watching the house?" She about mentions Stella, but seeing Victor and Burr's face, decides against it and just hopes the poor tortured girl is alright.
She sidles up next to Ireena and softly asks, "Are you alright? Did something... did something visit you in your dreams?" Then after hearing her response she'll address the rest. "I agree with Burr I'm afraid, but Soren, I am curious to hear what your Forest Father has to say." And to Urwin, "I hate to ask more of you, but if we do go, are you able to keep these women safe? You have been more than helpful to us, especially as things seem to be falling down around us. I do hope you're able to find these possible leaders and they step up to the plate."
Turning to Tourmaline as they wait for Soren's spell, "You mentioned your spellbook earlier.. did it not come through with you in the mists? Or were you separated from it here in Vallaki and we need to find it?"
[There is time. You were roused at dawn, and were 'invited' to meet the carriage outside the eastern gate an hour hence. Even with some time spent dressing and in conversation, there is enough time for Soren's ritual.]
Soren steps back into one of the rooms and closes the door behind him.
At Burr's question about the Wachterhaus servants, Urwin rubs his eyes. "I regret to say... I don't know. I have learned much in my time as an innkeeper, and developed means to learn more. But there is still much about the people of this town which is unknown to me. I can look into it."
Meanwhile, Zefla approaches Ireena. Her face is pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. At Zefla's question Ireena hesitates at first, glancing down as she rubs her arms. Her voice is quiet when she finally speaks.
Zefla:
“It wasn’t Strahd,” she begins, her gaze flickering up to Zefla. “It was… her. The old woman. The one with the cart and the pastries.”
She swallows hard, her voice trembling as she continues. “She was in my dreams. She showed me the little girl we saved… Saskia... dragged away, screaming for help. And I couldn’t do anything. I tried, but she just laughed at me.”
Her hands grip her knees tightly, knuckles white. “It felt so real, Zefla. Her voice—it was everywhere, taunting me, telling me I’d failed. I couldn’t sleep after that. I just… couldn’t.” Ireena glances up, her eyes haunted. “What if she’s going after Saskia? What if she’s trying to punish us through her?”
When she questions Urwin, he appears tired but resolute. He listens to Zefla’s question, his expression softening for a moment as he glances toward Ireena, Tourmaline, and Victor. His weariness shows in the deep lines of his face and the way he leans against the bar, but his voice remains steady.
“I’ll do all I can to keep them safe today,” he says firmly, meeting Zefla’s gaze. “You have my word on that, whatever the cost.”
He pauses, his eyes shadowed with worry. “But Zefla… Strahd knows Ireena's here. Victor isn’t exactly subtle, and after last night, I’d wager half the town knows he’s under this roof. If Strahd doesn’t come for them, the Wachters—or someone else—might.”
Urwin straightens slightly, his tone gentle but serious. “I’m not saying you’re not welcome, but this place… it’s defensible but it's no fortress. You’ll need to start thinking about finding somewhere else to hide... somewhere safer for the long nights to come. Somewhere Strahd’s eyes aren’t already watching.”
He looks back at the group, his shoulders sagging slightly. “For now, we’ll keep watch. But think on it. The time to move may come sooner than we’d like.”
Tourmaline nods sardonically when Zefla asks about the book. "Oh, it came through the mists with me, all right. I had it right here," she adds, patting an empty clip on her belt where her bookbag once hung. "Until I met the Vallaki welcoming committee. After they captured me they took it. I didn't see it in my prison cell. I don't want to think it went up in flames with that mansion, but I can't think of any more likely option."
Soren:
Soren completes the simple ritual and clears his mind, waiting for a sign. The runed twigs rest motionless for several moments, and the air seems to grow heavier as if the room itself holds its breath. Then, almost imperceptibly at first, the twigs begin to tremble. A faint glow suffuses each one, the light pulsing faintly in rhythm with Soren’s heartbeat.
The twig signifying weal glows with a verdant green, its carvings illuminated as though filled with sunlight filtering through ancient trees. The twig signifying woe smolders faintly with a dark light, its edges seeming to blacken as if withering.
With little warning, both twigs begin to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster, blurring as their light intensifies. The air fills with an almost imperceptible hum, like the rustle of wind through leaves overlayed with the distant crackle of flames.
As Soren watches, the two twigs collide with an audible 'crack', flying off to opposite corners of the room. For a brief moment, the lights—green and dark—flare brightly before fading.
Collecting the pieces, they are undamaged, but the message is clear: this path promises both weal and woe, in great abundance. To walk it is to accept both the blessings and the curses that lie ahead.
Victor catches Burr in a quiet moment as the party waits for Soren to emerge from the room. His face, usually set in a deliberate combination of disdain and aloofness, is marred by a flicker of something more complex—guilt or determination, perhaps. He approaches Burr with an awkward gait, as if forcing himself to cross an invisible threshold.
Burr:
“Listen,” Victor begins, his tone clipped and reluctant, “I don’t much care for you. And I don’t think you care much for me either. But that doesn’t matter right now.”
He shifts his weight uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they aren’t overheard. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, and there’s an undercurrent of genuine sincerity beneath his usual bravado.
“You mentioned Stella last night. You seem inclined to worry about her condition—more than most would. I won’t claim I share your sentiment, but… I made her a promise once. Back when we were working together. Researching.”
Victor pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s deciding how much of himself he’s willing to expose. “I told her that if I found a way out of this gods-forsaken valley, I’d bring her with me. No matter what. I gave her my word.” His gaze hardens, and his voice takes on a steely edge. “And I am still a Vallakovich. Whatever else that might mean, it means something to me to keep my promises.”
Victor crosses his arms, staring Burr down. “So here’s the deal. If we’re going to work together—if I’m going to cooperate with all your grand schemes about taking up arms against the devil himself—then you need to promise me something in return. When we find a way out, whether it’s by killing Strahd or some miracle none of us see coming, we’re going to find Stella. And we’re going to make sure she gets out too. If we can fix whatever this 'cat' issue is, wonderful. But either way, sound or broken, she is coming with us.”
His jaw tightens, and he steps a little closer, his voice low and firm. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how hard it is. I gave my word, and I need yours now that you’ll help me see it through.”
Victor’s eyes lock onto Burr’s, searching for any sign of hesitation. For all his abrasiveness, there’s a raw, unyielding sincerity in his expression now. It’s clear that this promise, this insistence, is more than a bargaining chip—this means something to him. And this moment, stepping up and confronting someone like Burr, teen-to-man, seems to be important to him as well.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr looks at Victor, his eyes then drift to Tourmaline and Ireena before coming back to Victor again, there is no hesitation whatsoever when he says, " I give my word. If by my deed or life I can deliver her safely from here I will do so. May Kavan drink my heartsblood if i speak false."
Soren remains staring at the wooden fragments for a long moment as the green and black strobes fade from vision after casting Augury for the first time.
Is it always like this, I wonder? The chaos clashing with balance with such force. Are we four truly so unstable a catalyst of weal and woe?
He thinks of the destruction that has befallen Vallaki and many of its residents in just the past two days, but then he thinks of saving the girl from the lake, of restoring the winery and its vineyards, of defeating the emergent abomination atop Yester Hill. It is not colder than normal, yet Soren shivers.
Rising shakily, he gathers and stows his druidic focus and rune-covered wooden implements and makes his way to join the others.
"I was not expecting such an intense result from my augury. My wooden divining implements clashed violently and flared with both light and darkness. I believe Silvanus has spoken to me, yet I do not fully understand the Forest Father's message. There will be weal and woe, benefit and suffering, growth and destruction, benediction and curse. Both, and in great quantity if we accept the darklord's invitation."
"My reasons for not accepting remain the same. Not only may the darklord seek to use us, manipulate us, learn our weaknesses, turn us against one another, mark us in some way that makes us his, but the rest of Barovia may also be watching, like the pack watches when the pack alpha summons four young upstarts. Accepting the invitation may send a message, perhaps even to those who would oppose him that they cannot trust us."
"And if we decline, we could accompany Lady Bauer and Ireena elsewhere. Vallaki no longer seems safe. Perhaps back to the winery with Adrian Martikov. Perhaps to this village of Krezk further west on the map which Ludmilla mentioned does not accept visitors - yet they might if we come bearing a cartload of wine casks. Or elsewhere, we could inquire about the dusk elves once more since Madame Eva suggested one of them holds knowledge about our enemy. Or continue our search for the den of wolves. Or confront the dream-eating witches of the windmill."
Soren bows his head. "And yet, I cannot ignore Silvanus' omen that accepting the invitation may bring great weal. I will go as the pack chooses."
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return
Seeing Ireena in the state she was... after seeing her with such ferocity when she was weakened and her father had just died... well it brings the situation to a more dire forefront for Zefla and she puts her small arm as best she can around the fighter. "Saskia, she's at that orphanage that was affiliated with the church, right? Should we head there and see how she is?" she then hangs her head a bit after giving Ireena a small hug with the arm and takes it back. "I didn't realize that woman could haunt our dreams as well."
Looking up at Soren and the others, "The dreams that are haunting you and Burr... those were from the ones at the windmill, no? Is the one that sold the pastries from the windmill as well? I feel like we should head there sooner rather than later."
Turning back to Urwin, she nods. "You have my thanks. Mine and of my companions, for keeping them safe and for last night. We truly didn't have any other thought than to come here after what had happened, we appreciate knowing there is a safe place to come to... at least for now." She pauses for a minute and then offers up, "When we first came here through the mists we came upon a deserted house on the edge of Bavaria, I know Strahd knew of it at some point as someone who stood up against him killed himself there instead of facing the monsters Strahd had promised in a letter he had sent the man." Zefla fills Urwin in of the situation they found at the empty manor with the windmill glass. "I know it is quite a ways away, so probably not worth even mentioning, but yet, I felt compelled to?" she shrugs, just wanting as much on the table with these people as she could to try and help.
She sighs and then turns to Viktor, "I don't suppose your manor had a basement or vault or something underground that might have survived that inferno? A place where they stashed important things?"
"I still think we should meet with Strahd. What do you think Giles?"
Burr looks up sharply when he hears Saskias name, he frowns at Zefla, " Thats them. Did you say Saskia is taken? I know she disappeared in the aftermath of the attack on the church...but I'd hoped she was in hiding."