Joetaro glances at his companions, glad things haven't gone violent yet. He smiles as he approaches Stanimir, his hand gripping his sword hilt. "I enjoy a good story, however I doubt this is a simple tale that you will tell. But please, begin.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
The man invites you to sit around the campfire with a welcoming hand gesture.
Stanimir fills his mouth with wine, then spits into the fire. The flames turn from orange to green. As they dance and sway, a dark shape appears in the bonfire’s core.
“We come from an ancient land whose name is long forgotten — a land of kings. Our enemies forced us from our homes, and now we wander the lost roads.”
The dark shape in the fire takes the form of a man being knocked from his horse, a spear piercing his side.
Stanimir continues. “One night, a wounded soldier staggered into our camp and collapsed. We nursed his terrible injury and quenched his thirst with wine. He survived. When we asked him who he was, he wouldn’t say. All he wanted was to return home, but we were deep in the land of his enemies. We took him as one of our own and followed him back toward his homeland. His enemies hunted him. They said he was a prince, yet we didn’t give him up, even when their assassins fell upon us like wolves.”
Deep in the bonfire, you see the dark figure standing with sword drawn, fighting off a host of shadowy shapes.
“This man of royal blood fought to protect us, as we protected him. We bore him safely to his home, and he thanked us. He said, ‘I owe you my life. Stay as long as you wish, leave when you choose, and know that you will always be safe here.’”
The figure in the dancing fire vanquishes its final foe, then disperses in a cloud of smoke and embers.
Stanimir’s face becomes a somber mask. “A curse has befallen our noble prince, turning him into a tyrant. We alone have the power to leave his domain. We’ve traveled far and wide to find heroes such as yourselves to end our dread lord’s curse and put his troubled soul to rest. Our leader, Madam Eva, knows all. Will you return to Barovia with us and speak with her?”
Joetaro looks to his companions, then up at the sky closing his eyes and praying to his goddess and smiling. He opens his eyes and touches the holy symbol around his neck. "A second chance at life is something I know all too well. I cannot speak for my companions, but I will travel to Barovia and speak with this Madame Eva." He stops for a moment. "One more question, before we go. If you can leave Barovia of your own free will, and your land is cursed, then why go back?"
"So many questions" the old man repeats in his creaky voice. "I am not one to speak for Madame Eva, but I can assure you that if you return our precious homeland to it's former glory you will be heralded as kings and queens." The cheerful din of the gypsies quiets as they all look at you, Standinir's voice lowers, "Our desperation has pushed us far from home. Please help us."
"I know the pain of being thrusted from youe home, and for that I will help you. I have but one question, what do you call yourselves?"
Uanstaer then turns to Jojo. "This may be a long journey, and walking would be dreadful. A wagon might helpul, especially a speed-wagon, instead of a cargo-wagon."
Ander will go to climb onto a random cart and then stop and look to Stanimir. "How long will the journey take? We might as well talk to this Madam Eva if she isn't months or years away. If we don't think we have what she is asking for, or like what she is offering then we can return"
Standinir laughs, "oh the trip takes no time at all." He then gestures to the camp. "We best pack up and head out! We don't want the campfire to get us" he says in a voice loud enough for his crew to hear him. The gypsies begin loading up their belongings as he looks back at you and gleefully winks.
Joetaro raises an eyebrow at Standinir, curious about what this all means. He hears Uanstaer and nods. "A speedy wagon may be useful. I'm ready to on this journey."
He raises his hand, then turns to the rest of the group. "Oh, no! I forgot about Lady Morwen. Should we go back and tell her what has happened?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Glimra had been entranced by the story and the opportunity to help...there were a dozen or so different things about what the old man has said that were not adding up or making back of her neck itch but she did what she always did with them and buried them under a layer of thick wonder at what they might find in this strange homeland of the travellers.
As she approached the wagon she had a strange feeling that she was climbing a spiders web but she shrugged it off as she joined the others...
After you board the barrel-topped wagon you depart. The sun quickly fading past the horizon. The night fully engulfs you very shortly after your departure. A chill runs through your bones as the warm summer breeze is replaced by what feels like an autumnal chill. Without realizing it, you've turned onto an unfamiliar road, and as you look behind the wagons a dense fog follows you like a grim funeral procession. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.
The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence.
Tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance. You see that every business is boarded up, claw marks stretching down their sides. Standinir looks back to you all and says in his kindly, old voice, "Welcome to the Village Barovia." He laughs quietly, "It's a bleak life here, but your going to change that, right!"
You start to think about your journey. You're not sure if it was 5 hours or 5 days. The sky in this place seems to be perpetually cloud covered and glib. The wagon train slows when a moaning sob floats through the still, gray streets, coloring your thoughts with sadness. The sounds flow from a dark, two-story townhouse. Standinir shrugs his shoulders and says, "It's always something here in beautiful Barovia..."
" And no one can leave but your folk.....so we are for for good now?", she looked back the way they had come for the great gates...
Glimra sighed, she felt tired..but not so tired...her sense of time was off and she didn't like it. " You've trouble with beasts?", she noted motioning towards the scratch marks.
" Well my friends, do we want to try leaving in case this curse is just a nursery tale...or are we resolved to stay here and die trying to lift it?"
A younger man who you would know as Standinir's son, Ratka, takes the opportunity to chime in, "Aye, We shall say that, the dark prince as' is' fingers everywhere. Es' jus' that sometime's those fingers have claws..." You hear the moan rise up again from the imposing house. The gypsies all look at each other then back at you. "You know, we can't stop ere' es' jus' that dos' Barovians do not really care for us Vistani... Nothin' personal you know, jus', I don't wanna fight off a mob today, es' never as much fun as it may seem in your mind." He takes a long pause, "Oh, and, uh, don't touch dat' fog. You won't like da' results."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Glimra sighed....maybe she should have listened to those misgivings this time.....
" Ok...so the curse your Prince lays under now involves beasts under his control, dangerous fog, and hostile local residents...this just gets better and better...."
She jerked a finger towards the house the moaning was coming from, " And that is?"
OOC: Perception check to determine the nature of the moaning...also the fog...
"Look es' like I say. We don't stop to investigate such sounds. Were I a Barovian I would perhaps moan in agony of my existence too." Ratka waves a hand toward the house, "You want to go find out? Be my guest. We are goin' to Tser Pool, we've a camp dere', jus' follow da' road out o' town and den stay on da' trail toward da pool. Es' easy, there are signs even." His face is growing more concerned as he speaks. "But... we gotta go. The locals are getting restless..." You notice now that a small group of villagers are out of their houses now, armed with torches and glaring at your caravan intently.
Glimra is pretty sure that the sound is human, probably from a female or small child. And, the fog is a complete mystery. It looks like ordinary fog to you.
Joetaro glances at his companions, glad things haven't gone violent yet. He smiles as he approaches Stanimir, his hand gripping his sword hilt. "I enjoy a good story, however I doubt this is a simple tale that you will tell. But please, begin.
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
The man invites you to sit around the campfire with a welcoming hand gesture.
Stanimir fills his mouth with wine, then spits into the fire. The flames turn from orange to green. As they dance and sway, a dark shape appears in the bonfire’s core.
“We come from an ancient land whose name is long forgotten — a land of kings. Our enemies forced us from our homes, and now we wander the lost roads.”
The dark shape in the fire takes the form of a man being knocked from his horse, a spear piercing his side.
Stanimir continues. “One night, a wounded soldier staggered into our camp and collapsed. We nursed his terrible injury and quenched his thirst with wine. He survived. When we asked him who he was, he wouldn’t say. All he wanted was to return home, but we were deep in the land of his enemies. We took him as one of our own and followed him back toward his homeland. His enemies hunted him. They said he was a prince, yet we didn’t give him up, even when their assassins fell upon us like wolves.”
Deep in the bonfire, you see the dark figure standing with sword drawn, fighting off a host of shadowy shapes.
“This man of royal blood fought to protect us, as we protected him. We bore him safely to his home, and he thanked us. He said, ‘I owe you my life. Stay as long as you wish, leave when you choose, and know that you will always be safe here.’”
The figure in the dancing fire vanquishes its final foe, then disperses in a cloud of smoke and embers.
Stanimir’s face becomes a somber mask. “A curse has befallen our noble prince, turning him into a tyrant. We alone have the power to leave his domain. We’ve traveled far and wide to find heroes such as yourselves to end our dread lord’s curse and put his troubled soul to rest. Our leader, Madam Eva, knows all. Will you return to Barovia with us and speak with her?”
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
"Will this Madam Eva reward us? I won't be leaving my home for nothing. I'm only here right now as I got paid in advance"
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Joetaro looks to his companions, then up at the sky closing his eyes and praying to his goddess and smiling. He opens his eyes and touches the holy symbol around his neck. "A second chance at life is something I know all too well. I cannot speak for my companions, but I will travel to Barovia and speak with this Madame Eva." He stops for a moment. "One more question, before we go. If you can leave Barovia of your own free will, and your land is cursed, then why go back?"
Persuasion - 13
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
"So many questions" the old man repeats in his creaky voice. "I am not one to speak for Madame Eva, but I can assure you that if you return our precious homeland to it's former glory you will be heralded as kings and queens." The cheerful din of the gypsies quiets as they all look at you, Standinir's voice lowers, "Our desperation has pushed us far from home. Please help us."
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
"I know the pain of being thrusted from youe home, and for that I will help you. I have but one question, what do you call yourselves?"
Uanstaer then turns to Jojo. "This may be a long journey, and walking would be dreadful. A wagon might helpul, especially a speed-wagon, instead of a cargo-wagon."
Ander will go to climb onto a random cart and then stop and look to Stanimir. "How long will the journey take? We might as well talk to this Madam Eva if she isn't months or years away. If we don't think we have what she is asking for, or like what she is offering then we can return"
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Standinir laughs, "oh the trip takes no time at all." He then gestures to the camp. "We best pack up and head out! We don't want the campfire to get us" he says in a voice loud enough for his crew to hear him. The gypsies begin loading up their belongings as he looks back at you and gleefully winks.
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Joetaro raises an eyebrow at Standinir, curious about what this all means. He hears Uanstaer and nods. "A speedy wagon may be useful. I'm ready to on this journey."
He raises his hand, then turns to the rest of the group. "Oh, no! I forgot about Lady Morwen. Should we go back and tell her what has happened?"
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
"She paid us before we left and when there is no one here in the morning she will know we succeeded" Ander climbs onto a wagon.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Joetaro nods and follows Ander into the wagon and prays to Selune for a safe journey.
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Glimra had been entranced by the story and the opportunity to help...there were a dozen or so different things about what the old man has said that were not adding up or making back of her neck itch but she did what she always did with them and buried them under a layer of thick wonder at what they might find in this strange homeland of the travellers.
As she approached the wagon she had a strange feeling that she was climbing a spiders web but she shrugged it off as she joined the others...
After you board the barrel-topped wagon you depart. The sun quickly fading past the horizon. The night fully engulfs you very shortly after your departure. A chill runs through your bones as the warm summer breeze is replaced by what feels like an autumnal chill. Without realizing it, you've turned onto an unfamiliar road, and as you look behind the wagons a dense fog follows you like a grim funeral procession. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.
The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence.
Tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance. You see that every business is boarded up, claw marks stretching down their sides. Standinir looks back to you all and says in his kindly, old voice, "Welcome to the Village Barovia." He laughs quietly, "It's a bleak life here, but your going to change that, right!"
You start to think about your journey. You're not sure if it was 5 hours or 5 days. The sky in this place seems to be perpetually cloud covered and glib. The wagon train slows when a moaning sob floats through the still, gray streets, coloring your thoughts with sadness. The sounds flow from a dark, two-story townhouse. Standinir shrugs his shoulders and says, "It's always something here in beautiful Barovia..."
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
" And no one can leave but your folk.....so we are for for good now?", she looked back the way they had come for the great gates...
Glimra sighed, she felt tired..but not so tired...her sense of time was off and she didn't like it. " You've trouble with beasts?", she noted motioning towards the scratch marks.
" Well my friends, do we want to try leaving in case this curse is just a nursery tale...or are we resolved to stay here and die trying to lift it?"
Uanstaer looks around at the lifeless village. "Say, Standinir, would you know why all these establishments have been boarded up?"
A younger man who you would know as Standinir's son, Ratka, takes the opportunity to chime in, "Aye, We shall say that, the dark prince as' is' fingers everywhere. Es' jus' that sometime's those fingers have claws..." You hear the moan rise up again from the imposing house. The gypsies all look at each other then back at you. "You know, we can't stop ere' es' jus' that dos' Barovians do not really care for us Vistani... Nothin' personal you know, jus', I don't wanna fight off a mob today, es' never as much fun as it may seem in your mind." He takes a long pause, "Oh, and, uh, don't touch dat' fog. You won't like da' results."
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Glimra sighed....maybe she should have listened to those misgivings this time.....
" Ok...so the curse your Prince lays under now involves beasts under his control, dangerous fog, and hostile local residents...this just gets better and better...."
She jerked a finger towards the house the moaning was coming from, " And that is?"
OOC: Perception check to determine the nature of the moaning...also the fog...
9
Uanstaer give Glimra a pat on the back "Well, you can't go down in history without a little adversity, can ya?"
He turns to Standinir and asks, "Where can we find you and this Madam Eva?"
"Look es' like I say. We don't stop to investigate such sounds. Were I a Barovian I would perhaps moan in agony of my existence too." Ratka waves a hand toward the house, "You want to go find out? Be my guest. We are goin' to Tser Pool, we've a camp dere', jus' follow da' road out o' town and den stay on da' trail toward da pool. Es' easy, there are signs even." His face is growing more concerned as he speaks. "But... we gotta go. The locals are getting restless..." You notice now that a small group of villagers are out of their houses now, armed with torches and glaring at your caravan intently.
Glimra is pretty sure that the sound is human, probably from a female or small child. And, the fog is a complete mystery. It looks like ordinary fog to you.
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Glimra fixed Uanster with a look, " Just remember those words when I'm trying to shove your guts back in your belly.", she winked.
She decided to follow the caravan....the locals did look a tad unfriendly.