Ireena hesitates, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she glances around at the concerned faces of the party.  Her voice, though steady, carries a note of guilt and frustration.  “I don’t know for certain,” she admits, her eyes darting briefly toward Zefla.  “The old woman was taunting me...  I saw Saskia, struggling, crying out, being dragged into darkness.  It felt so real.  It’s what she wanted me to see.”  Her voice drops, heavy with self-reproach.  “If the child is gone, if they’ve taken her, then it’s my fault.  I shouldn’t have—”  She stops herself, taking a sharp breath as though forcing the words back.  “I couldn’t protect her.  Not then, not now.”

Ireena’s gaze shifts toward the barred window, her expression haunted.  “Maybe it was all a cruel trick to torment me.  Or maybe it was a warning.  Either way, I can’t shake the feeling that Saskia is in danger... and it’s because of me.”

Urwin, beginning to look overwhelmed, pauses.  Then he offers, resignedly, "I can send someone to check on the orphanage.  Saskia is the child's name?  I can make sure she is still safe and sound."  He shakes his head sadly at Zefla's questions about the old house outside the Village of Barovia.  "It's not familiar to me."

Likewise, Victor shakes his head.  "Most of our valuables would have been in father's library, upstairs.  There was a cellar, but nothing but wine, spirits and root vegetables were kept down there." 

Victor rummages through his pack, pulling out a neatly bound tome, its cover an unassuming brown leather. He holds it out to Tourmaline with an air of reluctant generosity.  “I do have this.  It’s a spare.  If you need to start a new spellbook, I suppose I can part with it.”

Tourmaline takes the book and flips it open.  A single glance at the pristine, empty pages is all it takes for her expression to shift into frustration.  She closes it with a sharp snap and sighs deeply.  “It’s empty,” she says, her tone exasperated.  “I have no ink.  And without my original book, I’ve nothing to copy into it.  This... this is no more useful to me than a stack of blank parchment.”

Victor’s brows furrow.  “It’s a spellbook,” he counters, as though the concept were self-evident.  “You could—what do wizards call it?  Transcribe?  Scribe?—you could scribe your spells into it when you’ve... found ink.”

Tourmaline rolls her eyes, clutching the book like a weight dragging her down.  “That would require spells to scribe, Victor.  I cannot just pluck them from the ether.  Without a spellbook, or spell scrolls to copy from, I am... functionally powerless.”

Victor sniffs, crossing his arms.  “Well, I hardly see how that’s my fault.  I’ve given you the means to start anew, at great personal inconvenience, I might add.  A little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Gratitude?” Tourmaline glares at him, holding the blank tome up for emphasis.  “Do you have any idea what it takes to restore even a fraction of my spellbook?  The cost of special inks alone would rival the price of a fine horse!  And even if I had the means, I’ve lost years of research—gone!  A blank book doesn’t solve that, Victor.”

Victor frowns, looking vaguely affronted.  “Well, excuse me for trying to help.  Next time I’ll just keep it to myself, shall I?”

Tourmaline exhales sharply, her anger giving way to weariness. She clutches the book to her chest. “I... appreciate the gesture,” she mutters grudgingly, “but unless you happen to have a stockpile of magical ink and a way to recover everything I’ve lost, this isn’t a solution. It’s a reminder of what I’m missing.”

Victor shifts uncomfortably, clearly unsure of what to say.  “I was just trying to be... helpful,” he mutters.

“And I was just hoping for a miracle,” Tourmaline replies softly, her voice tinged with a faint bitterness.  “Neither of us got what we wanted, did we?”

Urwin, who seemed to have been holding his breath as the two spellcasters bickered, sighs, rubbing his eyes.  "Have you decided to take up the Devil on his invitation for tea, then?"

Burr looked conflicted again, " If we can confirm Saskia is safe, then I will sup with the Devil. If she is not....then we go kill the inhabitants of the windmill.....perhaps they have one of these spell books?"

Giles turns to Zefla, then to Urwin as the information comes rolling out.  He speaks slowly to Zefla first, then to Urwin.  “As for me … my thoughts are there are no attractive options .. we are beset by a number of bad choices.  I wish I knew if Ireena’s dream was true, or false.  It seems that this land is a ball of falsehoods rolled up and contorted.  I have had dreams as well, thankfully none of these witches that have taunted the dreams of others, but it is hard to know where to put ones faith.  My first thought was to see out Strahd and see what we could learn, gain some insight as to the path out of here, but it is hard to ignore Saskia..”  With that he pulls out his coin and looks at it, rolls it over in his hands.  A smile comes unbidden to his face, a realization, a light bulb going off over his head.  “I know how I shall sort this out.  My Lady, you have never led me wrong when I lean into you.  Be with me now, my dear, give us guidance.”

”My Lady, your sweet face is heads (1), the four leaf clover is tails (2).  Tell us which direction to go.  Heads is going to tea with Strahd, tails is seeking Saskia and investigating this windmill of nightmares…. Show us the light, my Lady!”  And with a twinkle in his eye and a grin, the cleric of Tymora flips his coin into the air and catches it, turning it up on the back of his right hand.  “See!  I knew it!”  And he gives a deep laugh, looking to the others for their thoughts about his Lady’s solution.

(Coin flip result : 2)

Soren shudders, remembering the vivid, choking dream that Morgantha had bestowed upon him, with the fiery hellish windmill as backdrop.

"It saddens me to hear that the witch of the windmill now assails your dreams too, Ireena, as she did for me and then Burr on our first nights in Vallaki."

He pauses, then expresses an incomplete idea that has been forming in his head.

"I recall Ludmilla heaped false praise on the darklord for protecting us from other evils in this land, and I thought this to be one such example.  Remember when we saved Saskia from within Morgantha's cart?  The witch looked ready to cast powerful magic at us, then glanced up to the sky and thought better of it, vanishing instead.  I believe the witches of the windmill fear the darklord.  And when the darklord needed us strong and fit to free Ireena from Izek's clutches, our dreams remained clear.  I think this is what Ludmilla meant - the protection of one bully, Strahd, holding back a lesser one, Morgantha.  Yet the darklord seems obsessed with Ireena and protective of her, so I am surprised he would allow her dreams to be corrupted."

"I tend to agree with Burr and now not-Father's Lady Fortune and her coin toss that we should seek Saskia, and if we cannot find her, bring battle to the witches of the windmill.  If we do not seek to protect even the pups among us, then what kind of pack are we?  I recall there were other children at Saint Andral's too, perhaps other orphans.  Did you see any sign of them during the attack on the Cathedral, Ireena?"

(After his Augury ritual showed both weal and woe resulting from visiting Strahd, Soren was open to accepting the darklord's invitation, and he still is, but now he is leaning towards declining and attempting to locate Saskia and the other orphans if they are no longer at the orphanage.)

As an aside to Victor and Tourmaline, Soren suggests quietly:  "I agree it is a dire situation, Lady Bauer, and none of us have safe territory or easy hunting right now.  Yet Victor was merely attempting to aid you.  Perhaps the witches do indeed have a spell book as Burr speculates.  Or if not, I recall the Vistani at Tser Pool camp and others have told of the powerful mage who challenged the darklord and was cast down near the waterfall there.  If this mage was a wizard, perhaps we can find his spell book?  Or the inks with which inscribed spells within it?  Small hopes are all we have now."

As the group discusses their next course of action, they seem to settle on their next course - inquiring after the safety of the child, Saskia, and delaying or declining Strahd's invitation. 

Ireena, sitting quietly in the corner, speaks up after a long pause.  “I saw only one child at the church that night,” she says softly.  “The young altar boy who assisted Father Lucien.  The others—if there were others—must have been at the orphanage.  That was two nights ago.  I’ve been... detained since then.  I don’t know what’s become of them.”  Her voice falters slightly, and she looks down, ashamed.  “I hope they’re safe, but after what I’ve seen... I can’t be certain.”

Urwin nods solemnly, his weary face marked with faint relief as he realizes the group has resolved to forgo Strahd’s invitation.  “It’s no small thing, choosing to oppose him, even indirectly,” he says.  “But I believe it is the right choice—for now.  Walking willingly into his lair... I just can't see how that is a good idea.”

He pauses, his gaze on Ireena.  “And perhaps this will help our other problem.  If you find this Saskia and other innocents in peril, it will remind the people of Vallaki what courage looks like, even in the darkest times.  Perhaps that will give them something to rally behind.”  He offers a tired smile.

The party gathers their gear, likely concerned about the events of the day to come.  Ireena's eyes linger for a moment on Burr and Zefla.  “Stay strong,” she says. “Please find Saskia, and deal with whatever’s at that windmill.  But focus on staying safe.”

Downstairs, the main hall of the inn is quiet and nearly empty, a contrast to the crowd of the previous night.  The Martikov children sit at a far table under Danika’s watchful eye, playing quietly with wooden toys.  Adrian leans against the door, his arms crossed, consulting with a pair of overnight guests who appear to be leaving as well.

As the party steps outside into the cold, grey morning, the air feels dense with mist and the lingering smell of smoke.  The streets of Vallaki are eerily quiet, the town perhaps still sleeping off the violence and fear of the previous night.

Urwin’s voice follows them as they depart.  “May the Morninglord light your path... and bring you back safely.”

The door of the Bluewater Inn closes behind them with a heavy thud, and the party sets off toward the orphanage, their footsteps echoing faintly through the empty streets.

[Do you invite any of Victor, Ireena or Tourmaline to come with you?]

Soren certainly does wish to invite Victor, Ireena and Tourmaline, if only because he guesses that Ireena's soul will rest easier if she can actually try to do something about these children she feels guilty for being unable to protect, and that Victor and Lady Bauer will not enjoy being cooped up in the Blue Water Inn or venturing out on their own (or even worse, with each other).  However, he will not railroad them into joining.

To each of his companions, whether three of them or six or somewhere in between, he hands a large, pine-green berry (a goodberry).

"Each of these will last for the day and can nourish as a full meal would, along with a trace of healing, by Silvanus' grace."

Provided that either Urwin has provided directions to the orphanage or that Ireena knows the way (if she joins), Soren follows.

"We seek Saskia and... what was the altar boy's name?  I have forgotten.  Was there not one other?  An older youth who was working outside when we first arrived at the Cathedral.  A restless one from his look.  Milivoj, perhaps?  Though he may have stayed at the Cathedral, not the orphanage."

Finding herself staring into the forlorn eyes of Ireena as she tells her to stay safe, she solumnly nods and replies, "I'll try."  As they start to leave, Zefla is also open to any of them joining as well.  Though she doubts Viktor would put himself in any sort of danger for others.  

As they enter the common room, the halfling steps over to Dannika and lightly grabs her arm, "Thank you for your hospitality and I'm sorry if we put your family in any more danger.  I hope we help to rectify things soon."  she hates leaving the Inn... she worries what Strahd might do to them for ignoring his summons.  Urwin seems glad they are, so that helps a bit as they start out, she also wonders what they will return to find.  The idea that they won't return doesn't cross her mind as she hasn't had any nightmares so doesn't really have a grasp as to what they are walking into.  

When they get somewhat close to the orphanage, "Want me to scout it out?  Make sure we aren't walking into some sort of trap?"

Burr says nothing but he makes eye contact with Victor.........he would rather Tourmaline and ireena stay here......but he doesn't know if they are actually safe at the Inn....

Giles says to Tourmaline, Ireena and Viktor, "I guess I would feel safer if you were all with us, that we stayed together no matter what.  However, I know that the darklord has his eye on you, Ireena.  I just don't know that anywhere is safe right now for you.  But maybe if we kept moving, stay hidden, perhaps disguise you in some fashion..."  He looks at her, tilting his head, back and forth, holding his chin.  

"When should we leave?  Sooner the better, eh?"  Giles finishes the last flip of his coin down his fingers, then pockets it, getting ready for their next step.

Tourmaline hesitates, glancing toward the barred windows of the Bluewater Inn.  Her tail flicks nervously, and she adjusts her cloak, drawing the hood tighter around her head.
 “I… I’ll come. I can’t sit here and wait.  But, you’ve seen how people react to me.  If the wrong crowd gets a look at me, we’ll have more than witches or vampires to worry about.  Just—promise you’ll back me up if someone gets the wrong idea, alright?”

Ireena stands straighter, visibly relieved as she tucks a stray lock of hair beneath her hood.  Her voice carries a note of quiet resolution, despite her obvious lack of sleep.
“I would rather face whatever dangers lie ahead than sit here wondering what has happened to you all.  This town… it feels like it’s crumbling under the strain.  At least if I’m with all of you, I can fight back.  And Saskia—if there’s a chance she’s in danger, we have to find her.”

Victor leans against the wall, arms crossed and one foot tapping impatiently.  He gives a half-hearted shrug, trying to mask his apprehension with indifference.
“Why not?  It beats sitting around in this..." he pauses, seeing Urwin looking at him.  "... lovely tavern.  And if you’re going to face witches, maybe we’ll find something interesting… something useful.”

2

Ireena knows the way to the orphanage.  

As the party steps out of the Bluewater Inn and into the grey morning light, Vallaki feels like a ghost town.  The streets are unnervingly quiet, the usual bustle of townsfolk replaced by the low whisper of the wind and the occasional creak of a sign swinging above an abandoned shopfront.  The air smells faintly of soot, an unnecessary reminder of the fires that burned through the night.

The skyline is marred by thin columns of smoke, their sources uncertain—perhaps smoldering ruins, or simply hearths kindled to hold back the cold and the damp.  Puddles from yesterday's rain glint dully in the faint light, their surfaces disturbed by the soft pitter-patter of droplets falling from overhanging eaves.  Shadows stretch unnaturally long between the leaning, narrow buildings, casting dark fingers over the cobbled streets.

The party’s footfalls echo louder than they should, and they cannot shake the feeling of being watched.  A raven caws harshly from a rooftop, its call startling but somehow comforting as well.  They pass a small square where an overturned cart lies abandoned, its spilled contents scattered and trampled.  Signs of chaos are everywhere: doors broken open, windows shattered, goods strewn about. Yet no voices call out, no hands appear to claim the spoils.  The people of Vallaki, those who remain, are cowering behind locked doors and barred windows.

As the party rounds a corner near an old general store, they hear the low murmur of voices ahead.  A group of six men stands clustered around the store’s entrance, their broad shoulders silhouetted against the grey light.  At first glance, they could be guards on patrol—but the scene tells another story.  Each man is fully armed and armored, their tabards faded but intact, marking them as members of Vallaki’s town guard.  Their weapons—spears, swords, and crossbows—are ready and well-maintained, though the men themselves look weary, their faces drawn and pale from a sleepless night.

They’ve pried open the door to the store, its lock splintered and hanging uselessly.  One guard stands watch outside, his crossbow loaded and aimed loosely at the street, while the others rifle through the shop's shelves, hastily filling sacks with dried goods, candles, and bottles of lantern oil.  A broken crate near the door spills over with coils of rope and lengths of chain.

The man keeping watch spots the party first, his grip tightening on his crossbow.  "Stop right there!" he calls, his voice sharp but tinged with unease.  The other guardsmen look up from their looting, hands instinctively going to their weapons.

The leader steps out of the shop, a tall, grizzled man with a patchy beard and a deep furrow between his brows.  His chainmail clinks faintly as he moves, and he rests a hand on the hilt of a sword at his hip.

"Don’t come any closer," he says, his tone firm but not overtly hostile.  "We’re not looking for a fight. Just taking what we need to get through another damned night."

One of the men behind him mutters, "No use leaving it for the monsters to tear through when the whole place goes under..."

The leader silences him with a glare before turning back to the party.  His eyes sweep over them, lingering warily on their weapons and armor, then narrowing slightly at Tourmaline. Her horns are hidden beneath her hood but her red skin is still unmistakable.  His face hardens, and he takes a step forward, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

“You!” he growls, his voice laced with anger and just enough fear to betray his unease.  “I know you.  You’re the devil-woman from the Baron’s dungeon. You put me to sleep while your lot sneaked out like rats!”

Another guard, a younger man with a fresh scar across his cheek, points a trembling finger at her.  “That’s her!  I told you—told you she bewitched us!”

The other men shift uneasily, a ripple of tension spreading through the group.  Their weapons are not raised, but their hands hover too close to hilts and triggers for comfort.  The leader spits on the ground, his glare cutting into Tourmaline.  “You’ve got some nerve showing your face in the daylight after what you pulled.  The town’s falling apart, and you’re out there throwing spells at us like we’re the enemy?”

One of the men near the back mutters, “Might be we should just grab what we can...”

The leader shoots him a warning glance before turning his focus back to the group, scanning their numbers.  He seems to realize they’re slightly outnumbered and outmatched, but his pride won’t let him back down entirely.

Victor meanwhile, looks like he is half-way between stepping up to say something, or falling back to hide behind Burr and Giles.  Instead he just stands rigid, as if frozen in place.

“What’s your game, eh?” he demands, his voice rough but not as forceful as before.  “What’s your devil magic got to do with whatever hell’s breaking loose in this town?  You really the bride of the Devil, or are you just here to make it worse for the rest of us?”

Under her breath, Tourmaline nervously mutters, loud enough for you but not the former guards to hear, "Bride?  Hmmph.  Didn't even invite me to the tea party...".

The guard keeping watch lowers his crossbow slightly, though he still watches the party warily, his posture tense.  The rest of the group murmurs uneasily among themselves, clearly unsettled by the sight of a tiefling in their midst and the imposing figures of her companions.  The leader, however, seems to be sizing up the situation, torn between his anger and the understanding that a fight with this group might not end well for his men—or for him.

Burr puts himself solidly between Tourmaline and the men, " You've enemies aplenty, stop trying to make more.", Burr said disdainfully, hefting The Bloodspear onto one shoulder.

" You should be thanking her, I took two spear thrusts from your lot while trying to save your mayors household and was ready to drop the lot of you as I did the blood-drinking dead......but the Lady opted for mercy."

" We're wasting time here with these looters, we've children to save."

Soren murmurs a prayer to for Silvanus' Guidance, his voice quiet and solemn.  He too steps up, standing at Burr's right shoulder.

"We fought Vampire Spawn, slaying two of them in and around the Baron's den last night while you guards did not.  Where were you?  Instead of defending your pack and leader as you should have, you guards all fled or stood transfixed or looted, as you are plainly doing now."

"As for our friend's false imprisonment, Izek was an insane brute and every one of you knows it.  Instead of protecting the townfolk or the Baron's man-den, his focus was on keeping the other woman he found at the Cathedral prisoner.  He was no help defending the manor from Vampire Spawn, leaving the entire job to us.  So the less said about his and the Baron's using our friend's appearance to scapegoat her for their own failures to protect Vallaki, the better.  Our friend is a tiefling, one we knew from our world, and blameless.  Her blood does not make her evil, nor her magic."

"In a just world, we would stop your unseemly and opportunistic stealing from your own pack-mates.  But we have missing children to find.  You know - the kind of task you would be doing yourselves if you truly were defenders of your pack and territory as you should be."

"I agree Burr.  Let us go."

Giles says “Quite right Burr, we are waiting time here.  We need to move along.”  He turns to the one addressing Tourmaline, saying “You have no idea what you are talking about.  That’s half the problem in this whole damn area, most of you don’t even know what the hell is happening and who is the real enemy.  She is here to help, but you wouldn’’t know help unless it smacked you in the face.  All of this is a waste of time, words and air.  We are moving on.  You can get back to your ransacking now.  If you are finding something to help you defend Vallaki, fine, go ahead.  Try to stand together and defend yourselves the best you can.  But don’t get pissy with the people who are actually trying to help you.”  

With that, Giles walks along, beside Burr, Soren, and the others.  

The guardsmen watch the party with a mix of anger, resentment, and unease.  Their leader’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow as Burr steps between them and Tourmaline, hefting the Bloodspear as if to punctuate his disdain.  The mention of mercy seems to stings and Burr’s biting words strike a nerve.

“Enemies aplenty, eh?” the leader mutters, his voice low but simmering with fury.  “You’re not wrong about that...”

Soren’s solemn reproach seems to agitate the other guards.  Some shuffle uncomfortably, their eyes flicking to the cobblestones or the sky, avoiding his steady gaze.  The younger guard with the fresh scar swallows hard and looks away, as though the druid’s words hit their mark.

When Giles steps in with his curt dismissal, the guards’ leader flinches slightly, as though stunned by the sheer weight of the group's collective condemnation.  His grip tightens on his sword, and his lips curl in a scowl, but he holds his tongue.

One of the guards, standing near the back, mutters loud enough for the others to hear, “Self-righteous bastards... they’ll see how much ‘help’ that devil-woman brings when it’s too late.”

The leader raises a hand to quiet him but doesn’t take his eyes off the party as they begin to move on. “Go on, then,” he says, his tone biting. “Get out of here.”

As the party moves past them, the guards slowly turn back to their looting.  Their postures are tense, their movements jerky with anger and humiliation.  The leader’s gaze lingers on the group until they have passed around a corner and out of soon.

Soon, the narrow, three story orphanage building looms at the end of the road.

[Did the party wish to take Zefla up on her offer to scout ahead?]

Soren certainly would want and hope for Zefla to scout first.

"One moment," he murmurs, uttering a prayer for Silvanus once more and lightly tapping her shoulder, granting her Guidance, then nodding in approval.

He himself steps back and keeps watch for renegade guardsmen or other threats.

Burr nods, confident in Zeflas skills.

Zefla stands back with Ireena and Viktor as the three men stand tall against the looters.  She's proud of the boys as they protect the tiefling from these imbeciles.  She's also glad they don't take the bait and more unnecessary blood shed in these streets.  She finds the tension in her chest leaves as they continue on their journey.

Even though it is narrow, the three stories of the orphanage surprises Zefla as she didn't expect the building to be so big.  She feels Soren's tap on her shoulder and smiles up at the druid, "Thank you."

She finds she really needs the help from Silvanus as she sneaks forward attempting to get a lay of the land and see if there are any that are lurking around.  Also looking for possible entrances to the building and the feeling if there is any life within.

Steath: 15 + 3

The party lurks a block away while Zefla approaches to scout.

Zefla:

As Zefla moves quietly ahead to scout the orphanage, Soren turns back to Lady Bauer and the others, his voice musing and quiet:

"There is much I do not understand about those city-folk guards think, including how they call the darklord a devil when he is a vampire lord.  The two are not the same thing, are they?  One is undead and the other a fiend.  And speaking of fiends, the one which possessed Izek is not truly slain.  As I ran back but failed to smother the raging flames at the back of the Baron's den, it spoke in my mind, taunting.  It ranted how this cold, sunless realm needed to be scoured with..."  Soren pauses and swallows.  "... scoured with fire, and how I should search for it in 'dappled darkness'."

"I know so little of demons myself.  Have any of you ever heard of such a fiery fiend?  I look to you Lady Bauer, not because of what those men assumed from your appearance, but only because among all of us, you may possess the most arcane lore and knowledge of such beings..."