Talion glances over at Irek and wrinkles his nose. Each to their own, I guess.

     Everlie hops off the wagon and steps forward, trying to take in the scene before him.  The voices, the music, the revels.  These are people enjoying life, he thinks, happily.  But he reminds himself that enjoying life does not mean trustworthy…

     Still, Everlie is tempted to go join the festivities… but holds back.  He’s too unsure of why the others have come here so he waits and lets them take the lead.

Quote from DarthDrizzt >>

Bertolt reads or writes things most of the trip, stopping long enough tune his instruments incase there was a reason to play. Upon arriving at the encampment he steps out of the wagon and makes his way to where the smell of food is coming from. "We all deserve a good meal."

 Stanimir smiles widely at you, clapping you on the back.  "Aye, just so, bard, just so!" 

Quote from Ereshion >>

Talion gets out of the wagon and looks around. He is still not sure what to make of these people: they all seem friendly but never answer his questions. At least we should be safe for the night.

He takes a deep breath and turns to Stanimir, "So, when do we meet Madame Eva?" He doesn't expect a straight answer, but it's what he most wants to know.

 Stanimir looks over at you and comes closer.  "All in good time, pensive one!  The threads of fate remain connected still.  Madame Eva will always be here.  For now, forget your troubles.  It's been a long journey."

At this point, the crowd of Vistani have danced, hopped, swayed and made their way over the your wagons.  You watch as the dusk creeps in and it isn't long before the light from the bonfires and cooking fires and several tall torches thrust into the ground is all the light you see.
Men and women dance, hips swaying and gyrating, and bodies glistening with sweat.  A deep drum keeps time.  Several people spy your instrument, Bertolt, and beg you to come play and enjoy yourself.  Wine is abundant, meats, cheeses, and vegetables and soup are nearly pushed into your hands.  More than one pulsating form throws a mischievously seductive glance your way.

You notice Stanimir hand the reins and speak to a younger male Vistani, who then barks orders to several other youngsters, who get busy unpacking and preparing the horses for the night.  They work quickly but you notice their curious stares and smiles.

You notice a large Vistani male and a tall female swaying and dancing together.  He is bigger than any of you, massive fluffy beard, bald, and arms like tree trunks.  Yet he moves like a hunting cat.  The woman is similar, yet instead of bulky muscles there are strong sinewy muscles.  She also reminds you of a cat but a stealthy one, contrasted with the male's raw strength.

The people mill around and great you, excited to see you.  They do the same to all the returning Vistani - almost as if they haven't seen them for a long time.  Seeing your confused looks, Stanimir shouts over the raucous crowd, "For Vistani people, it is a celebration to come back from the mist!  No one can know what happens..." he winks, "except Eva of course!  Remember," he strains to be heard over the crowd, "hospitality and kindness rejected is akin to a slap in the face to my people..."   He laughs as he is grabbed by a couple of middle-aged females to twirl into the firelight.  There seems to be a violin playing and a flute - a jaunty tune that lends itself well to spinning and twirling.  

It is completely different - surreal, for sure - compared to what you have experienced so far in this land.  Here, the people are joyful, brightly dressed, full of colour and life; this is a stark contrast to what you've seen in this land so far - a trail of worsening death and destruction.  Here the people are lively and friendly.  Before you can say otherwise, two younger females come up to Irek and pull him into the crowd in a dizzying twirl.  You lose sight for a moment before they come back.  You wonder if something is wrong with Irek but you realize that this is the first time you've seen Irek smile - a genuine smile.

Talion had no expectation of a meaningful answer and takes some small comfort from being proved right. After listening to Stanimir's final words he nods, "What I really need is a change of clothes and a river to wash in," he says, looking around the camp, trying to identify the source of the delicious smells. After a moment he walks off in search of food.

     Everlie... partakes.

     He first looked to his new companions for clues as to how they would react and while they may have seemed a bit hesitant and weary, none seemed overly concerned or hostile to his eye.  So when food and drink were pressed into his hand, Everlie partook of the pleasures offered.

     Everlie is soon led to the fires and he willingly goes.  He succumbs to the pleasures of the food and drink, the music and the dance.  Life is meant to be lived and it seemed that finally he was amongst those who did so!  Still and all, Everlie was not Vistani and he knew it.  And knew they knew it.  He had been in these lands long enough to hear many a rumor about the Vistani and so while he allowed himself to get loose, he did not allow himself to get reckless.  Everlie did his best to enjoy this break from sorrow and misery but did his best to keep his wits about him despite the drink and the distractions.

(( later ))

As the evening unfolds, Talion finds himself relaxing. The only allies they had met in this new land were the Vistani. While frustrating, they had not yet attacked them, stolen from them or (as far as he knew) lied to them. Comfort, joy and relaxation seemed to be in short supply in Barovia -- perhaps even a monopoly of the Vistani; it was best to seize them while he could, for it might be his last chance for a very long time.

Bertolt holds a hand up as he is asked to play, making sure to eat his fill and then clean himself up to look as presentable as he can. Once satisfied he will then move to join with the other musicians. He will play his lute and then switch to drums if any are available and if possible he will find a set of bagpipes to finish, showing off his various skills. After playing he to will see if he has caught the attention of any of the women, moving to dance with them as others have. 

[Sho or Erven - anything to add or do you want to move on?]

Erven steps over and joins the fire, has a meal and some ale and puts on a smile for the Vistani.  The only thing that he can see before him however as he looks into the fire and sees the dancing flames and hot embers is the face of Doru, impaled and wriggling on sticks, looking into his eyes as he shoved the makeshift wooden stake into his heart.  He has no mirth in him, but he smiles and nods, lifting his mug at all the proper times.  Down deep, buried in his elven heart is pure hate for the one that made Doru that way, the dark stain and lie that encompasses this land.  But I won’t offend the dear Vistani, oh no…

Finding in heart in him to enjoy the festivities, Sho listens to Bert's music, absentmindedly, with a semblance of courtesy, till the night finishes.

Erven, several Vistani notice your brooding face and continuously attempt to try to get you to dance, give you drinks, and try to touch your skin.  They keep saying "elf amurg, giogoto."

Bertolt, several Vistani try to get you to dance and they really enjoy your music.  Your timing is perfect for the lilting bounce of the Vistani people.  They are at home with consistent ups and downs of the melody and you perform beautifully. 

The crowd is boisterous and happy, food and drink flow freely, and you are able to forget (or not) your troubles for at least a little while.  After a while, with the coming of the night, the laughter and physicality dies down.  Groups of Vistani and yourselves gather around the big fire within the ring of wagons.  The large Vistani you spied earlier stands up.  "We welcome travelers new," gestures to you all with his mug, "and old."  He gestures to Stanimir and the rest that came with him.  "We greet you with open arms, travelers, and hope that you feel comfortable here.  We would know more about you, if you are willing.  Our history and stories are not written, yet we love to hear about others!"  His booming laugh cuts the darkness and is taken up by several others, who shout encouragement to all of you.  "I am Aarjan.  This is Reena, my partner."  They smile at each other. 

Reena looks at you and says, "Welcome.  You will find he talks, but I listen."

Aarjan laughs again, and there are knowing nods in the crowd.  "So?  What about it adventurers?  Will you give us a story?  Perhaps there are also things you would like to know?"  

So is this is the way it works, a tale for a tale? Talion, having relaxed a little and drunk a little, nods and stares at the fire for a moment before telling a tale that sounds like he has told it many time, and which is already familiar to his companions.

"I come from a large city, one that for some people is more a prison than a home. My earliest memories are of crawling through sewers looking for coins that the wealthy had dropped." He looks up at Aarjan, "Good money if you are small and know where to look."

“Well, my...my brother...he knew we needed something more and he always had a plan..." His voice trails off as he stares into the fire for a few moments, a faint smile on his face.

"He and I...we had some fun times amid the gloom. It was hard you see, our parents..." he shakes his head, "...were worse than useless, so we fended for ourselves on the street. The two of us: alone but together.”

“He was the clever one, my brother, not the perfect physical specimen you see before you today -- neither was I back then, mind you -- but he would come up with the most outlandish plans, and I...well...I was the one who carried them out flawlessly!”

He lowers his voice a little, “There was a time when someone we knew...an enemy…a powerful enemy, who I will not name...was in in the lockup, waiting to be moved to a more...permanent...hole.”

He looks around at the assembled faces, “I don’t know if you’ve seen the inside of any lockups, but for some, the richer the area the weaker the lockup. Mostly for rich drunks. Our target was in one of those. Big man. Nasty piece of work, even by my standards.”

“I must have been eight, or maybe nine years old. My brother was older, and even then had some magic. Well...he came up with a plan: ‘Favours’ he told me, ‘Favours, they are what the world is about, Talion. Who owes what, and to whom’. And, yep, he really spoke like that."

"He told me that if we saved this person from their fate, we would have some valuable coinage. And he was right.”

“I used to be able to crawl into the tightest spaces, I see well in the dark, and my brother...well...he had talents that are his to disclose. And all the nice jails have sewers.”

He pauses, lost in his own memories, then glances around the fire, “First thing we had to do was steal one of those fancy bags that's bigger on the inside. We knew where one was, but we also knew that we'd be dead if we so much as looked at it funny." He pauses dramatically, "But we also knew that if we succeeded, we'd be protected. So, we took a gamble."

"Well, I don’t want to bore you, and I don't normally tell this part, but...persuading the bastard to get into the bag was the hardest part. He had to trust us. 'It'll be his first lesson', my brother said."

"Anyway...we succeeded, and that was our first big break, and my first insight into what life was really all about: 'Who owes what, and to whom'.” His eyes scan the assembled Vistani, then he just stares into the fire, remembering, a grim smile on his lips.

Finally he looks up at Aarjan again, "So...her Ladyship..." he waves toward the castle, "...is no blessing on this land. We oppose her, and to the outsider, it seems you serve her."

"Tell me what it is you hope to get from us, and why you seem to serve her? We already know why she helps you."

"My own story is much less interesting then the one my companion told you. Until I found my way here my life revolved around books and gathering stories and knowledge more then making my own. Although if you would like me to tell you stories of old tomes and lectures then I have many of them to pass on." Bertolt adds, taking mental notes on the first story told.

Aarjan and the Vistani nod appreciatively at your stories, and look towards Erven, Sho, and Everlie, smiles on their faces.  Any time you finish your drink or food, small Vistani children rush to you with carafes and platters.

Erven takes a deep breath as he feels the attention turn to him.  “My friends know what has happened to me.  Everlie you do not.  To any who have heard this I’m sorry and I will try to make this brief.  I tell you that there is a pall over this land and it pulls at my very soul.  My companions have seen me happy, sad, furious … we were in a house where I thought I was going to lose my mind, and without the blessing and visitation of my glorious Lady Sehanie Moonbow, I think I would have lost my mind and my life in the Durst house.  Now we have seen firsthand the creature, the _thing_, that is affecting us all.  I want to do my part to put an end to this, to help those who aim to bring goodness and light to this land.  I hope that Sehanie gives me the strength to do so.”  

“I don’t have the energy to tell you what happened to my village.  My companions know, it has changed me forever.  Our enemy knows as well, I have had visions in dreams and when I was nearly dead I saw her talking to my mother, holding her captive.  We just set free another of her captives, glad to be released of his cursed state.  I thank you for your company and your merriment as a distraction, I have respect for you and the hospitality that you travelers have shown us.  But my mood is not happy or light, and it will not be so until peace and deliverance is brought to Barovia and a stake is put in the heart of the evil corrupting this land.” 

     "To stakes in the heart!" Everlie cries out, lifting his glass. After polishing off his drink his stands, signals for another, and then steps a bit closer to the flame in order to be well lit.

     "Sit right back and you'll hear a tale...  A tale of a of a fateful trip.  A trip that started from this tropic port, about this tiny ship..."

     "Oh, thank you, my friend!" Everlie says as he is handed a new drink.  He takes a long drink then looks around at those assembled.  "Where was I?  Oh yes, my story...  I'm afraid, truth is, I don't have a story of my own.  I come from down Bellvaburr way.  Once I was a soldier.  A husband.  A father.  I had a life.  I was as happy as one in these lands gets, I suppose."  

     "Well, one who is not one of you, my Vistani friends!" Everlie again raises his cup and toasts.  "For you all sure seem to find all the enjoyment one can!"

     "I lost my own happiness years ago...  It was nobody's fault but my own.  I can admit that much.  Now I can, anyway...  Back then I of course couldn't see how my actions...  Well anyway.  The point is, I never lost hope.  Maybe that was the problem.  I always had hope and that made me think my life... My wife and my kids..." Everlie's speech grows more and more halting, the words come harder to him even as he turns his face away from the fire and hides it in the darkness.

     "Hope...  it was taken away...  It was that damnable elf...  Perhaps they're not the one corrupting this land...  But they're the one who stole my hope...  my wife...  my kids..."  There is silence from Everlie for a long moment as he gathered himself back together.  Eventually a cough out in the crowd... and then another.  Finally, Everlie walks back into the full light of the fire.  "So, my friends.  That elf...  Evil's henchman...  They get a stake to the heart all their own, yes?  Or perhaps just a sword taking their head from their body.  Either way, dead elf!"  Once more, Everlie lifts his mug in a toast, though there seems to be no celebration, no buoyancy or cheer in it.  But he lifts the cup and the drinks it dry before going back to his seat, his tale finished.

 "'Take courage, no one is immortal.'" Sho says slowly, glacing at the fire. Dancing flames casting shadows on the ground. "... That was the first incantation I've learned. The phrase that keeps them away. The dead detest the reminders of death. The ephemerality of life. They rejoice in anything that reminds them of being alive. Blood, tears, sweat. Happiness, screams. Strong emotions.” 

“The person who had taught this is gone. Their body smashed, divided and burned. It was done - there was no way to bring them back. They were betrayed by someone they loved, and killed by people whom they called friends.” Seeming to realize, he looked down at his hand clutching the cup, the white scallops of his knuckles, then slowly loosened the pressure. He lifted the cup and wet his lips. “They have made their donation to the dead. At least in that, I find solace.”

“She of whom we don’t speak would aim to be.  Immortal that is.”  Erven looks down and he has absentmindedly picked up a short, thick 2 inch diameter piece of wood from around the fire and began carving it with a knife, with a pointed end, fashioning a new stake as he listened to the others and stared into the fire light.  “We are going to put an end to her, and in that I find solace.  So yes, in a manner of speaking, I too take courage that no one is immortal.  If you have the right stake to shove into their heart.”  He looks down at what his hands have made.

The Vistani all nod somberly at your stories and share rounds of drinks and eat small meat pies that are passed around (these are not the same pies as you bought, Everlie).

Aarjan stands up, "Good stories all.  A story for a story, yes.  Life is nothing with sadness, anger - it is life itself, yes?"  He raises his cup and many in the crowd join him in toast to you.

Reena rolls her eyes and says to you quieter, "What the oaf means is an ancient Vistani belief.  When we keep the emotion in, it becomes an acid, a disease, and will eat you up.  When you release it into the world through externalizing it - giving it voice - it cannot harm you anymore.  Others have to share your dread, your joy, your hate, your frustration and it is not so much to bear.  But keep it in...?  She looks at a couple of you warily.  You reject the human side of life.  Experience is life itself."  Her kind caring eyes bore into you.  Her velvety voice soothes your tired psyches.  

Aarjan begins to hum.  It is a deep rumbling sound.  He then strikes his chest and exhales.  He stomps his foot.  Hits his chest and begins humming again.  The others Vistani smile as they have seen this before.  They all begin to do it.  It's quite amazing and in spite of your moods, you're all in different states of wonder.  At some point, Aarjan throws a couple of packets into the fire.  They explode in brilliant colours!  The chanting and humming stop all of a sudden with a final foot stomp.  Aarjan looks around and his deep voice projects out into the crowd:

In an age that existed long ago, there was once a pretty young girl with no husband, no father, no mother, no brothers, no kinsfolk: they were all dead and gone. She lived alone in a hut at the end of the village. No one came near her, and she never went near any one.  One evening a goodly wanderer came to her, opened the door, and cried,  "I am a wanderer, and have been far in the world. Here will I rest, I can go no further."
The maiden said, "Stay here, I will give thee a mattress to sleep on, and, if you wish, food and drink too."
The goodly wanderer soon lay down and said, "Now once again I sleep - it is long since I slept last."
"How long?" asked the girl. 
And he answered, "Dear maiden, I sleep but one week in a thousand years." 
The girl laughed and said, "Surely you jest?  You are a bit of a roguish fellow, aren't you?"  But the wanderer was sound asleep.

Early next morning he arose and said,  "You are a pretty young girl. If you wish, I will stay here a whole week longer."
She gladly agreed, for already she loved the goodly wanderer. So once they were sleeping, and she roused him and said, "Dear man, I dreamt such an evil dream! I dreamt you had grown cold and white, and we drove in a beautiful carriage, drawn by six white birds. And you blew on a mighty horn that sounded for miles around and was deafening; then dead folk came up and went with us - you were their king."

Then answered the goodly wanderer, "That was an evil dream."   Straightway he arose and said, "Beloved, I must go, for not a soul has died this long while in all the world. I must off, let me go." 
But the girl wept and said, "Go not away; bide with me."
"I must go," he answered, "Gods keep you."
But, as he reached her his hand, she said sobbing, "Tell me, dear man, who you are then."
"Who knows that, dies." said the wanderer, "You ask vainly but you do not know what you ask. I will tell you not who I am."  His eyes are sad, tired even, as he knows what will happen - what always happens.
Then the girl wept and said, "I will suffer everything, only do tell me who you are."
The goodly wanderer's eyes close as if in confirmation.  "Very well.  So be it," said the man, "then you will come with me.  I am Death."
The girl shuddered and died.  The sound of a great horn echoed out in the village, scattering birds from the trees and causing the livestock to frighten.

At the end of his tale, Aarjan allows the silence to descend on the campfire.....before blowing hard into an elk horn, causing you all to jump out of your seats in surprise!!!  There is a lot of laughing and some come up to Aarjan to hug him.  Reena shakes her head, "Every time.  I don't know how they still fall for it."

From somewhere behind the first row of Vistani comes a voice that is the opposite of Aarjan: frail, wise, scratchy.    "Oh yes, yes.  Think it's a joke, eh?  You young bucks better learn how to pay attention to these stories."  It's an old Vistani wearing a colourful blue robe - blind by the looks of it - but commanding a lot of respect just by the way people listen to him.

"Now gather round children, and I'll tell you a story, but best you take a trip to the jakes first, if you get my meaning!"  The old man coughs for a minute, hacking, wheezing sound.  When he finishes, he begins...

Some years back, when I was still a young man with a full head of hair, I was to help my cousin Babik get to the small house he had just bought near Luna Lake. The trip was long, and rather than spend an extra 5 days on the road, I decided to cut through the forest to save some time.  I thought it best to ask my brothers and sisters to join us. On our first day in the woods we paid no heed to the stories our parents had told us of the mists and the tricks it can play on you. We were young - strong. We thought we would be more than capable of handling everything on our own.  We knew very little then about this place - much much less than what we tell our children now.  But even still, well, you know how the young are...

So as the sun went down, we set up our tents and built a campfire for the night. The forest grew dark around us, and drink had made us bold. My brother, Pontius had drank too much and went to relieve himself in the woods. Several minutes passed, then nearly an hour as we sat by the fire, drinking and roasting game.

Pontius never came back.

In the morning as we began to pack and gather our belongings, we noticed that Pontius’ belongings were gone. When I asked our group where he went, one said that they had seen him come back in the middle of the night, shaking like he was laughing without making sound, and that he had gathered his things and left. I assumed that he had simply decided to scout out the path ahead, as Pontius was always one to forge his own way through the world, and figured we would run into him up ahead.

And so we continued into the woods, drinking and laughing and thinking that we were invincible. After several hours of walking though one of the women in our group shouted that someone was following us. I looked back to where she was pointing, and indeed saw that we were being followed. I saw my brother’s head, and his wide playful smile peering out at us from behind a tree. “Oh, it’s just Pontius,”  I told her. And I ran over to meet him, but before I could he vanished behind the tree and I could hear him run off into the woods.

I was no stranger to his games like this. Any Vistana can tell you that we pride ourselves on being nimble and stealthy, impossible to catch. I looked forward to this game, even, hoping to prove to my brother that I was the superior one. We saw him many times after that - poking out from behind trees and bushes, all with that same big smile. But I was never fast enough to catch him.

Days passed like this. By the third night we had all grown worried over Pontius, as he hadn’t been joining us for meals or to refill our waterskins, or even to sleep. His games often lasted long, but never like this before. And that night when I laid down to sleep, I stared out into the woods at the distant shape of my brother’s head, peering out at me from behind a gnarled tree trunk. This time I did not run to catch him. I laid there for what seemed like hours, watching as his head poked out from different spots in the forest. And as I did, ice grew thick in my veins. Because I noticed that since this game had started, his expression had never changed. And his eyes had never blinked.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but eventually I woke in the morning to someone shaking me and telling me that another had run off into the woods. After that we didn’t drink or laugh while we walked. We barely even talked. When Alamina joined Pontius in staring at us from within the woods no one said anything. The fighters of our group simply loaded our crossbows, and listened for any approaching footsteps.

Each night someone else would disappear from our group. Even if we all sat awake, watching one another to make sure no one could leave, eventually sleep would wash over us - and in the morning our number would be one fewer. As our group shrank, the people we saw in the woods began to grow. Eventually all that remained was me, Babik, and three others.

On that last day as Babik’s house came into view we all ran to the door and locked ourselves inside. For the first time in nearly a week we felt safe behind the strong walls of the house. Again, we ate and we drank and laughed, trying to forget those who lurked out in the forest. And when the drink ran dry, we all fell asleep huddled together on Babik’s new bed.

At some point in the night though, I woke to the sound of the door to the bedroom opening. Pontius stood in the doorframe. I could tell it was him by the way that the candlelight in the hall behind him lit up his hair, which he had always prided himself on being able to comb into large spikes. But something about the way he stood seemed wrong. He was too short, too skinny, and he walked with a limp as he shuffled over to the side of the bed. I could see him shaking, making that same strange soundless laugh that he had been seen doing the night his game begun.

And then he reached up and grabbed at something just underneath the collar of his shirt. I couldn’t tell what he was doing at first, but slowly I realized that he was lifting something off of himself. Bit by bit the skin of his neck peeled back like leather. His face, still stuck in that unblinking smile, began to deform, wrinkling and falling in on itself until I could see the mask come off entirely. And I am thankful that it was too dark for me to see whatever was underneath. To see whatever laughed silently, watching my fear, and to see whatever it was that slinked out of my room with my brother’s face in it’s hands.

It’s been many years since then, but even now when I look out into the woods I can still see my brother’s face behind the trees, shaking, as whatever’s beneath it laughs.

There is a complete silence afterwards, as the old timer finishes his story.  Some of the Vistani look around, out into the darkness, holding their children tightly.  

Quote from Ereshion >>

 

Finally he looks up at Aarjan again, "So...her Ladyship..." he waves toward the castle, "...is no blessing on this land. We oppose her, and to the outsider, it seems you serve her."

"Tell me what it is you hope to get from us, and why you seem to serve her? We already know why she helps you."

to go back to what you asked:

Aarjan looks at you thoughtfully before answering, but Reena is quicker, "If you know the story then you know she does not help us.  And we do not serve her, not all Vistani at least.  In the past, we did a service for her - not the monster, but the woman - and she has seen fit to honour that service with a mutual respect.  The situation does not ingratiate us to the Barovians and we are aware of that."

Reena's eyes are clear and focused.  She asks if you have any other questions to ask.