"He won't be able to escape. Perhaps whenever the forsaken mists of these lands deliver us more outsiders... I will seek them out." He seems muted and somewhere else. Indeed, he knows what you say is true, but he is unwilling to take his son's life with his own hands. "Perhaps whatever power keeps you from turning will see fit to reach my son... Morninglord, please..." The priest begins to weep into his hands. Doru beneath the floor shouts more and more, desperate for someone to hear him.

"I do not know that I am not like Doru. Perhaps I merely have a different type of the same affliction. For now though I must see to my father's burial and then make the journey to Vallaki myself. Father thought that going there was of great importance. He did not tell me why though."  Darya says as she clenches her hands, hoping she was wrong about being the same or at least similar to Doru.

"I will collect his remains and bring them within the day. Is there anything I will need to bring for the ceremony?"

The priest shakes his head, seeming to indicate nothing else is needed. It seems he needs either a moment to pull himself together or encouraging words -- that is if you wanted to speak with him further. Shouting is still audible beneath the floor, but it seems to be quieting down now as the morning comes into full effect.

What will Darya do now?

"May the Morning Lord be with you and your son Father Donavich." She says, nodding to him before standing and leaving the chapel, stopping once to look back as she hears the muted sounds of Doru shouting. With that she pushes the doors open and steps outside, moving to make her way to the village inn.

You travel to the place which can be construed as the village inn -- it is mostly a tavern. While there is a floor of rooms, the trio of sisters who run the place do not tend to rent it out very often for whatever reason. At this time of day, there are not many here in the tavern, known as "Blood on the Vine," a youthful vandalism of the sign that has now just come to be the name of this establishment.

There is a bar here where Arik, an older, pudgy man, stands. Based on his expression, he seems completely lost in his thoughts, though his eyes barely reflect any light at all. If you didn't know any better, you'd think this to be a man who died while standing. Other than Arik, you see Ismark, the son of the burgomaster, sitting in his usual corner. Ismark is a friendly enough fellow, but he seems especially rattled today. His blond hair is unkempt and he looks like he got around no hours of sleep last night.

Darya will sit ar a table close to Ismark but keep to herself, waiting for Arik or the sisters to interact with her. If nothing happens she will order something to eat and a glass of wine. She hopes that she will be able to stomach food as she had not eaten much since she returned to the village.

If Ismark looks towards her she will give the man a nod, watching him from the corner of her eye.

Ismark gives Darya a faint smile as Arik quietly and without fanfare brings Darya's standard fare to her. Arik is not known for being a talker, of course, but he brings her exactly what she wanted to eat. The burgomaster's son says aloud, making polite conversation it sounds like, "You look well. Or, I mean, as well as you could look given the circumstances. I'm sorry for your loss. Do you need help retrieving the...  body?"

"More help taking it to the chapel then retrieving it. I wish I had the means to do more then accept what has happened but that magic is out of my area expertise. As it is I cannot make sense of the more powerful spells my father had access to." Darya says with a helpless shrug as she moves to sip at her drink, doing her best to not show how relieved she is that it goes down without issue.

"What of you and your sister? I have not left my house in the last several days..."

(On mobile, no formatting, plus I just fell down the stairs so I won't be verbose.)

"It would seem the Devil is truly up and at it again. He has been terrorizing us every night this week. My house has seen better days. I think Ireena... isn't taking it well. Neither is father." Ismark states with a sigh. "If that's all you need, I can help. Though not sure we can do it just us two..."

(Falling down the stairs is never fun. Hope you are ok.)

"I do not know but I have already spoken with Father Donavich. If it is possible I shall look into finding a cart to carry my father in." Darya says with a bitter look on her face as she thinks of the last moments of her father's life. She shakes the thoughts away as she feels tears start to sting her eyes, focusing on Ismark. "Both of them are strong. Still if you are in need of aid I can offer what little skills I have at my disposal. It is not much but I doubt anything likes having magic flying at it."

(I am fine now, my wrist was killing me that night and I managed to get sick with maybe-covid, but for the most part I should be able to post!)

Ismark seems to consider your words as he takes a long drink. He puts his cup down with certainty. "I think I will take you up on the offer. I'll help you move my father, and... I think it would help to have you in our home tonight. I think just to help protect Ireena. Perhaps it could be like a sleepover?" He smiles, or tries anyway. It seems it takes some effort for his lips to curl. "I'll be here when you fetch the cart."

Darya, is your father already in a coffin? Or do you still need to buy one? When and how did you drag his body back home?

(Well glad you are feeling better from the fall but really hope you don't have covid. I had back around the New Year it took me forever to get over it completely.)

Darya nods ro the young man as she offers up her own weak smile, turning back to finish her meal and then return home to gather what she would need and then go to find a cart to use for carrying her father's body.

(Flashback)

Once Darya had regained her senses from the hunger she had slowly returned to where she had last seen her father. Upon finding the body she lost the contents of her stomach, having found it nearly drained of blood with a large hole in the chest where it looked like claws had torn out his insides. After recovering from the sight she did her best to cover up the wounds with the remaining shreds of his cloak, having to then slowly over the course of nearly six hours drag the corpse to their house where she then set it in what had been her father's bedroom.

(Back to present)

Days had passed since then and she had been doing her best to the body clean, knowing she would eventually have to buy a coffin. Her father had money set aside so she would be using that to buy the coffin and hopefully aquire a cart or something similar to held with taking her father to his final resting place.

(Gain 1 inspiration for the flashback! Just checking: you are going to go to the undertaker to get a coffin?)

(Yeah I think that ia where she will be heading first.)

Darya heads to the undertaker, probably the only person in town who gets more business than Bildrath. Thankfully, he is less of a horrible person than Bildrath is and so when you walk through the door and hear the chime of the door, you look ahead to see a kindly, old bald man look up at you. He has a faint smile on his face. He has a grandfatherly look to him. You imagine he must be the oldest man in the whole village. 

People don't seem to know his name. They simply call him Mr. Undertaker. 

"Ah, Young Darya... I heard what happened. Mighty sad thing that... I'm glad to see you are alive and well." Mr. Undertaker pulls out a book from under his counter and begins to thumb through it. "Could you remind me... what was your father's full name, my dear?"

"Cassius Trakev is the full name." Darya tells the elderly man, giving him a sad but kind smile. While dealing with the man in this way was rather depressing he had always been kind to her so she did her best to be courtesy to him.  "I need something simple as my father spent most of his money in order to fund our endeavors in magic..."

"Ahh, something simple..." Mr. Undertaker nodded. "Let's see, Trakev... Trakev... ah, here. Trakev, Cassius." He reads out measurements... your father's measurements. His height, a rough estimate of weight, and even reads off the preference of whether or not your father wished to be cremated, which is apparently no. "Good man, your father, good man..." Mr. Undertaker says as he strokes his chin. He has a long white beard which is fairly fluffy. He seems to be remembering something about your father. "Was surprising to see him the first time, it was. Not many of the arcane pass through here and choose to live a simple life here... practicing magic, of course. I wonder sometimes... ah well, for you my dear... this will be on the house. Don't tell the villagers, of course." He puts a finger to his lips with a smile and winks. "And... where is the body? Your home, I presume? I need to get the body ready for burial... it may take a couple hours, my dear. Is that alright?"

The young wizard watches the old man as he looks as if he was trying to remember something about her father. She shrugs it off though as it would be of little use to her as Cassius had been very secretive about his past. Other then a few scant comments about those he had studied magic with her father had been silent.

"Thank you I will be sure to keep this between us. But yes he is at my house. I must warn you that the body is in rather poor condition. After the bandits attacked us a wolf came by and began to chew at the body. I do not remember much but it ran off when I awoke." Darya says even though she doubts the story of the wolf is going to be believable but she does not tell the truth for fear of scaring the kind old man. 

"Would you perhaps know somewhere I could get a cart to use? I can see no other way to bring the casket to Father Donavich."

Mr. Undertaker looks thoughtful for a moment. Where could Darya get a cart? He frowns. "I'm afraid there is only one man in town with a cart for rent... Mr. Cantemir."

You know about Bildrath Cantemir. He is the owner of Bildrath's Mercantile in the center of town. His shop is the only one in town with gear to help travelers make it on the road. According to Darya's late father, Bild-rat as he called him, overpriced the goods up to ten times the price of what they were really worth. The man made a living off of bankrupting poor lost adventurers or desperate townspeople making for Vallaki. Bildrath is a family of two, himself and his nephew Parriwimple. Parriwimple is more kindhearted and soft spoken than his uncle, but he is...  not very bright.

Likely, you might need to come up with hundreds of fangs to come close to whatever Bildrath would rent the cart for even if its just a couple or less hours.

(Since you are from Barovia, it has its own lingo for currency. Gold = wolf-fangs or fangs. Silver = raven-claws or ravens. Copper = rat-tooth or teeth.)

Darya curses internally at the thought of dealing with the so called merchant. She was fond of Perriwimple as he was kind despite his issues. If she could findd the nephew on his own she thought there was a chance of him letting her borrow the cart but she did not want to cause trouble for him. "Then it seems I will need to find another way to transport the coffin to the chapel or postpone the final right for the next three generations." She mutters, instead trying to think of others she could get to help move the coffin.