(Giving Beren/Moira a chance to reply, will post on tuesday otherwise but addressing Nivi's checks and other factors breifly)
Before Nivi left to check the area, the moment the name had passed her lips - "Raven Queen" - She would feel the subtlest of sparks caress her nerves like the shadow of a shadow of a breeze long forgotten. But it was faint. Easy enough to miss had her senses not been so focused in that moment. It passed as swiftly as it came, leaving only the cold normalcy that Nivi was slowly getting used to here in this land of shadows and mist, where even the day is as dark as the duskfall.
Outside, likely much to her satisfaction, she found that aside from a few late night stragglers, and the usual Soulless who -though they did move, eat, and do as others- idled about as if an incarnation of melancholy and apathy. Speakign in low whispers amongst themselves, only speaking to others if spoken to first... But no obvious enemies revealed themselves, nor any Naerdowells, aside from Bluto who was inside, and under the watchful eye of a Vistani, who so far had proven to be gruff, brutal, but willing to listen more or less.
(Alternatively, if you all wish to go to bed, We can do that as well.)
Olamoira, absorbed in the newly-gemmed hilt of Beren's, doesn't pay much attention to Nivi and Jack's banter with Urwin... only a very slight grimace at the mention of the Raven Queen, a sort of haughty distaste, as if dredged up from some hundred-years past, and it is gone again in a moment. She eyes the hilt, sitting on the table between her and Beren, as if wondering about something and drawing a blank. I don't know enough yet about the things of the Light. To Beren, she asks, "What is the holy symbol on your armor? What god--what church serve you?"
Beren tenses, one hand moving to clench the front of his tabard where the golden emblem was emblazoned. He isn't even sure why he should keep wearing this thing, it has never meant anything to him and now that he's trapped here away from the church...
He sighs, letting his hand fall to his lap, if not for the mask Olamoira might have seen a look of something close to disgust. As it is though, the mask is unreadable. However by the tone of his voice it is clear that he doesn't have much love for those he served.
"I do not know what the symbol means. It was given to me, so I wear it," There was some sort of symbology to the emblem, but he never cared to put it to memory. He pauses, unsure how blunt he should be. "The Church of Kelemvor." That was the church that sent the clerics to begin with, and they were the ones who claimed him after all those years.
His gaze shifts downward, hands clenched as if fighting back memories. Then he lets out a sigh, uninterested in speaking with Urwin or even Nivi and Jack at this point. If they show interest in the hilt then they can look at it, if not, he'll head upstairs once Olamoira has asked her questions. He is unsure what her opinion of Kelemvor will be, though he doesn't really care either way. It isn't like he really serves that god anyways. He's just a pawn that the church leaders and clerics move as they see fit.
Olamoira doesn't answer for a moment... trying to recall the snatches of lore she learned from the Ilmatari, who Kelemvor is. "Oh!" she says, after a minute. "The Judge. Why, yes. That makes sense. It's not a pretty job, but it is absolutely essential, to..." She smiles plaintively, but a haunted look in her eyes soon overcomes it, and barely another moment passes before she bids a quick goodnight to the others and quickly runs up to her room, closing the door. The Judge... I should have been judged, I should have lost my life! But I was granted mercy that I never deserved. Overcome, she folds herself up into a corner of the room, and bows her head over her knees. She grits her teeth as if in pain, but knowing she has to face the guilt and heartbreak---every time it comes---she sits quietly to wait out her own demons. At least perhaps I am learning not to unnerve my companions.
(Seems everyone is more or less going to their rooms, so I'll proceed.)
Though the inn is sturdy and well kept, each of you in your respective rooms, the faint sound of the winds plaintive dirge outside as the night grew ever later. Faintly, at the edge of hearing, the sound of fearsome beastial wolfcalls could be heard, though they never sounded as though they were 'getting closer.' (so don't jump out of bed!) realizing that every night until you left this place would be full of howls, growls, and other unnerving noises. The nighttime was the only time that the clouds parted, with the moon casting ghastly shadows across everything. The mist however, always clung low to the ground, adding an effervescence to the shadows that would occasionally find enough purchase in the light to cast themselves across the walls like gnarled fingers.
You all think on the last day or so here, realizing it really has only been two days .. three at the most, with the exception of Nivi whom was here slightly before everyone else. Wood creaking whenever the wind would pick up. You all feel generally safe here.. you're within the walls. Beren's sleep, and .. everyone else's reverie is restful (long rest) and you feel yourselves rejuvenated by morning. Your sleep was dreamless, yet, you can't help but feel somehow different. As if some memory you had forgotten had wormed its way into your mind, or perhaps a lesson you hadn't been paying attention to - atleast not consciously - filled your mind. In some way, shape, or form, you feel just a little more ready than you were before.
How do you begin your day? Bluto and Arugal would be downstairs already, eating food in an otherwise empty Inn, aside from Irwin and his small family.
Everyone level up.
If your 'unassigned character' is below level 3, level them up. if they are already level 3, leave them be.
Olamoira eventually sits up to complete her meditation... a dark, roiling, fast-paced thing it is. A rat trapped in a maze. Whether her mind runs from herself, from her past, or from the looming undead threats that rule this land, it is hard to tell. The Judge. Mercy has been offered, but will the Judgment still come? The rat runs desperately through the maze, unable to find an escape. But then it stops, and a black-hued elf stands up, her robe and hood of undyed wool seeming to shimmer bright white. Leave the trappings of fear behind. Beyond our ken is the ultimate fate of our soul, but into my own hands I can take it, and trust in this moment that if I follow faithfully, not I but the Divine Light through the Twilight in which I live, even as Twilight heralds the Dawn without fail. I will be the Dawnbringer, and he the Sun. And together we will dispel the night.
Ola opens her eyes, her meditation finished, and she sits quietly for a long time. From her backpack she takes a candle and her tinderbox, and lighting the candle, she then takes out her book, and her pen and ink, and opening the book to a blank sheet, writes down the same words, in Elvish, in spidery calligraphic script. She spends the next few hours carefully illuminating the page, even with only the walnut hull ink, she draws careful leaves, flowers, vines, everything that grows under the sun, even as she herself never did. But that will change now.
The drow packs up her things, but doesn't strap on her leather armor. The heavy mace she picks up, and tests her strength on it, the same strength that pulled a drowning girl from the depths of a lake. My strength is weakness. No longer my strength, but only that of the Divine. Putting her backpack on only over her robe, she walks downstairs, and over to Bluto and Arugal. "Good morning," she says. "The time has come to join the fight. Here is a gift." To Arugal, she hands her mace and her leather armor. Then she goes to sit at a table in the corner to wait for her companions.
Beren stays silent, not really knowing what he'd expected Olamoira's reaction to be. He watches as she leaves, and then watches as the others move up to their rooms as well. He stays seated for a moment, gaze shifting to the hilt on the table for a while before he heaves a sigh and stands up. Retrieving the hilt from where he'd set it, he tucks it away and then approaches Urwin before heading upstairs.
Hesitantly he asks, "If it isn't too much trouble, would it be possible to have my breakfast delivered to my room in the morning?" It would be much more convenient for him to eat upstairs in the confines of his room where he doesn't have to worry about taking off his mask. It seems silly, all things considered, but he can't bring himself to risk the safety of others. The mask provides a barrier, whether phycological or not, that helps him keep the light contained. It has been years since he's taken it off in the presence of another, and longer still since anyone has seen him remove the mask and live to remember his face. "Whoever brings it up can knock and leave it outside my door."
He pulls out some of the coin from their reward, "Also, I'll pay ahead of time for my companions meals as well." He isn't really worried about Jack and Nivi, but as far as he knows Olamoira doesn't have any money. And based on previous actions, she may decide to skip eating if no one gives her something. Besides, he'd prefer they all use the money with Strahd's visage on them before parting with the coin from outside the mists. His reasoning for paying ahead of time though is so they don't have to wait for him to come down to eat, but he doesn't feel like that needs to be voiced.
Once that is taken care of, he heads upstairs and finally gets some much needed rest.
___________
Assuming Uwin was fine with the idea of delivering his food, a request that Beren feels slightly guilty about, he takes his breakfast in his room. Even after he is finished, he stays in his room for a while, taking some time to be alone without his mask or armor on before jumping into whatever trials await later in the day. Finally growing weary of doing nothing he dons his armor and mask and then heads downstairs. The light flickers when he notices Argual with Olamoira's mace and armor... He'll assume she gave them to him, but he doesn't really understand why. Still, he won't question it, instead simply moving to where his companions are waiting.
Nivi wakes early and saunters down the stairs at dawn. She is more than ready to pay for her own breakfast, but will not turn down a free meal if Urwin suggests that Beren has already done so. For once, she eats decently instead of nibbling and picking at her food, knowing there is a long day ahead.
She raises an eyebrow as Olamoira parts with her weapon and armor, but she does not doubt that her companion can hold her own regardless, having seen that the drow zealot's capabilities are hardly limited to swinging a blunt weapon at a foe. She grins at Arugal.
"Anyone else hands you a head-basher like that, Ruby, I'd say they're just getting you to lug it for them, hoofing it down the road. Could be wrong, but you don't strike me as the mace-waving type either. More a blade-to-the-back guy, yeah? But knowing Prophet here, she means it, so all good."
"Guess now we just need to check if Shorty turned into someone else again like he did last morning. And if Beren's decided to bloody sleep in..."
Nivi is a bit impatient to get started, though not actually angry at Beren for being late. She understands the masked, armored man likely has his reasons.
She uses the extra time to spread Luvash's map of Barovia upon the most convenient dry table or bar countertop in the common room, and, at an opportune time for Urwin, confirms with the innkeeper the party's route to the Wizard of Wines and landmark locations so she knows them by heart.
Depending on what says hello to us along the road or at the winery, might have to run from something... could be no time to check the map again...
(OOC: This post kept getting away from me, and I couldn't figure out how best to trim it down. So, rather than subject people to a wall of text, I kept most of the morning stuff in a spoiler. That way peeps have the option to not be besieged by character fluff that isn't really reactable to.)
There was no ottoman's to speak of in Jack's room, but the lack of such creature comforts was not unknown to him. Any old spot on the ground with but his bedroll to sit upon has served well enough in the past. And yet...
And yet...
And yet, the Eladrin found himself frequently besieged during his own reverie about moments in which such a pleasure had been available to him across many life times. Despite the absurdity of it all, it was never quite enough to break his focus so completely as to interrupt the process. Certainly no more than the faint sounds of bestial howls or the more nearby noise of wood encouraged to creak and groan from the wind outside.
Eventually, enough was enough, leading to Jack full embracing the moments over further gentle attempts at dismissing them. And then he felt it. A feeling of warmth gradually embracing his skin like a soft, weightless blanket. The kind that came when the morning sun shone through a nearby window, promising a day full of possibilities and joy. The scent of lavenders, roses, and... and was that lemonade he smelled on the wind? His heart began to quicken at the thought of rising to confirm it; and yet, he stopped just short doing so, knowing full well the folly of it. Still, he found himself yearning to hold on to the feeling even as the world around him grew colder...
When Jack finally opened his eyes, his first instincts were to look to the nearest window, or failing that he closes his eyes and tried to focus on feeling out the natural energy that flowed through all places for some measure of comfort. A task always easier said than done in places of "civilization", but never wholly an impossibility. But even without new visions flooding his mind he could no longer ignore the sensation of wrongness to the magic suffusing the realm. So for the first time in an exceptionally long time, he willfully distanced himself from it as much as he could and looked to a by then trembling hand.
With the next breath, he clenched the hand into a tight fist. In exhaling, he relaxed the hand only to reach for his pack and root around in it until able to pull out both a book and writing utensil. What at first began as another journal entry spiraled into a nonsensical arrangement of phrases and words with no obvious pattern to it... until he stopped writing hours later. Though the words themselves continued to make little sense beyond maybe being excerpts from various children stories, it is /how/ they were arranged on the pages that was more an interest. As looking at the greater whole revealed the vague shape of a eight legged creature that appeared almost... alive. Jack would sit there staring for a few minutes more at his work, deaf to his surroundings, but occasionally turning his head as if listening to something.
"Yes... Yes you're right... That would make for a good twist... Time to be bolder." He said with a smile as his skin, clothing, and hair began to change again...
"Goooooood Morning, Barovia! And what a wonderful morning this is! Hah hah!" Said Jack, announcing his presence from the moment of coming into view of the main area. He appeared to have returned to his more lankier physique, though everything from his eyes to clothing appeared to have changed to varying shades of gold and yellow. He then jogged over to whichever table the rest were congregated at, and following a clap of his hands he said with a grin, "How are you lovely ladies and gents this fine morning? Good I hope! But if not, then worry not, as I'm sure things will only get better from here! Haha! Ain't that right, Hugo!" He claps the man hard on the shoulder, though Bluto would hardly feel it as Jack was no strongman. In fact, Jack soon pulled the hand away and shook it. "Haha! That bloody well stung! Goes to show they build them strong in Barovia, eh, Hugo?!" He then turned to Arugal, still grinning all the while. "And good to see you, Argyll! Breakfast been treating you well so far? Of course it has! Ain't that right, Urwin!" He called out to the man before finally seeming to notice the map.
"Well what do we have here! Getting an early start on checking the route again? Fantastic, Nibbles! You know from the first time we met I just knew you were one dependable gal, haHAH!" He asserted his eyes finally landed upon the drow. "And why hello there, Olly! Good to see you, as always! Especially now as you seem to be in better spirits! Love to see it -- JUST love to see it, hahah!" Jack carries on before his gaze finally settles on Beren. "Ah Barbosa, my friend! Here to brighten everyone's day as always with that lovely demeanor of yours. Ready to fight the good fight! And by fighting the good fight, I mean tackling that road and showing it who's boss, eh? Hahahahah!!"
Nivi does a slow, ironic pan over to Jack as the Eladrin, transformed once again (for the second consecutive morning) makes his dramatic entrance.
Still, she grins and winks him when he calls her Nibbles, which after all describes the way she eats quite aptly. Her drawl is deadpan as ever.
"Sister and I had this tutor. Real charmer. Tara loved him, and me... well I only dozed off a half dozen times. Told us the changing of an Eladrin's season is a rare and wondrous thing. Wondrous, I'll give him, but twice in two nights is about as rare as Shorty changing his socks."
(Nivi has clearly mistaken Jack's latest shift as another changing of the Eladrin's season).
She taps her finger on her lips for a moment, her eyes suddenly distant. Right... the tutor... that spell he taught only Tara after I told him I was only fidgeting cause my legs were asleep? Protection... miss goody two-shoes showed me one time... could work against these bloody undead and fiends...
Jack scoffs and waves a hand dismissively off to the side. "It certainly IS a wonderful thing, but I personally wouldn't go so far as to say it in itself is THAT wondrous!" He said with a chuckle to his voice towards the end. "Then again, I guess to those who found themselves 'stuck' as they are after scurrying off to the primes and other realms, they just can't help but see otherwise! Perhaps even feel a bit envious!" The eladrin continued before leaning in close and waggling his eyebrows at Nivi, before letting out another genuine chuckle of amusement.
"I'd offer assurances that this won't be an every day thing, but that was more yesterday's Jack, eh... "his" thing. And who knows when that Jack will make a reappearance! Could be later today, could be in a week, or could be never again depending on how this story of ours plays itself out! Oh, what a DElightful bit of uncertainty, isn't it?" Jack giggles and did little jig on the spot, before then abruptly stopping with a snap of his fingers. "But your tutor wasn't completely wrong. It TENDS to be a rare thing... for some Eladrin, at least. As the change in season is as much dependent upon our surroundings as it is our emotions! Though some scholarly dullard would no doubt correct me by clarifying it's all about how we feel and the setting is merely aaaan influencer. Like enjoying a pleasant breeze on a summer day or watching the rain make a DREADful muck of one's hardwork on some project outside."
Urwin observes this all with interest as those before him seem more strange than usual.. particularly the Eladrin. Jack was likely the first Eladrin that the man had ever heard of, let alone seen in person. And the only reason he knew it was the same person was how everyone .. including Jack himself, addressed himself. Food was delivered to those who had asked, as it had been paid for. It would have been free but much like the night before, would have been lesser for it as the man cannot afford to just give away everything - by his own words - especially considering this place only gets traffic from within Barovia.... and his wine and ale getting thinner with every passing day, may curb that sooner rather than later.
Arugal eyed the armor and mace curiously... Wondering what the drow was up to, but remained silent. His greatest acknowledgement being a grunt, as he half-ate-half-picked at his food. Making sure Bluto stuffed his face so the man wouldn't be due for another 'whine' for at-least a few hours. He began to check the armor Moira had given him, to see if it was better or worse than what he already possessed... And as Nivi pointed out.. Aye. Not much of a mace user. Requires a bit more strength and a lot less finesse... he said cooly. Though his eye went to Bluto.... Oi. I got no use for these.. but seeing as you're going to be joining us... You'll atleast be better fodder.. and last a bit longer with this on, than running around in your town rags, and punching things with your bloated fists... Put this on. And make sure you come back eh... would be unfortunate if I had to do more than knock some sense into you. You have ten minutes. Bluto Eyed the gear worriedly, but it was clear at this point he feared what Arrugal might do to him. Quickly taking the armor, and the mace, and running off with it, staggerdly, but not drunkenly so... to his room. The armor would likely be a ..tight fit for a man as out of shape as he was.
So, what's the plan then? Arrugal asks as he finishes his breakfast, moving over to the group. I'm a might bit frustrated after dealing with Bleeters shite, and want some beastie to stab.
Beren isn't entirely sure what to think of this new Jack... so instead of addressing the stark change from the Eladrin's demeanor yesterday, he does his best to take it in stride pretend nothing is different. Even if he doesn't really appreciate this... new nickname, at least Jack seems to be in good spirits.
He watches the scene between Argual and Bluto unfold, keeping quiet in spite of having his own thoughts on giving the least reliable member of the group a bludgeoning weapon and armor. Hopefully having some protection helps the pathetic fisherman gain some confidence... or at least enough nerve not to run off at the first sign of danger.
Turning to Argual he nods and then looks to Nivi, "I am ready to depart if the rest of you are."His voice holds no eagerness or impatience, but it is clear that he would rather be doing something than standing around conversing.
"Let's roll. You don't hear from us in a couple days, Urwin, then guessing you probably won't, the way this land is. Unless it's our undead bodies come back maybe, wanting a drink. Either way, we'll get the wine flowing. Meantime, you and your dame keep an eye out, yeah?"
Gallows humor aside, Nivi shows everyone the route along the map in case anyone becomes separated from the group.
If there is no further discussion, Nivi makes her way out into Vallaki, heading towards the appropriate gate on the way to the Wizard of Wines. Both she and Shiv remain vigilant for trouble or familiar faces, such as Luvash, the Wachter boys, or the bard that Jack had met.
Hoping to see none, really. Kind of can't wait to get out of this bloody town, no matter how bad the land outside the gates is...
"Hmm~ Now I wonder how a drink my taste using a dead tongue now? Hahah!" Jack wondered aloud, before his expression turned abruptly serious. "Best we not find out, as I quite like current complexion." He then breaks out into a smile, took a moment to polish off whatever drink had been served along with breakfast during the earlier interim, then sprang out his seat just as eager to leave as Nivi, if not more so!
However, for all of his enthusiasm Jack does stop just short of leaving to make sure Bluto caught up with the party. At which point the Eladrin would try to and wrap an arm around him for a side-hug and walk alongside the rotund man like an old friend. "That reminds me, Boyo! You probably will need quite a bit of training up on the road, won't you? Well not to worry, my friend, as me and Barbie there will be more than happy to teach you along the way, rest assured!" Jack declared with a broad grin before immediately launching into some random story that started off as a lesson about general weapon handling to some adventure of a trio of goblins named Huckle, Beberry, and Finn as they traveled along the Stonejaw river on a dire crocodile.
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Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Bluto eventually coming back out, wearing the armor that was a bit too tight on his rather full figure, and holding the mace like a drunkard might a bottle he intended to fight with, though defeat still hung in the air around him. He couldn't bring forth the energy needed to talk much right now. Arugal had cowed the man. But atleast the oaf would have slightly better odds of not dying to the first thing the group came across. As the course was set, Arugal noted it, though he personally already knew where the winery was. And though the man looked deadly, he remained mostly passive now that Bluto wasn't causing issues. Urwin waving you all goodbye, and wishing you luck. Soon, you all left the town, heading Westward... towards the same gate that most of you came through initially. It was Dim and early in the morning when you all did finally leave the town.
The world is foggy, always. Each of you can barely see beyond twenty feet out before all fades to grey-white noise. The tree's perpetually coming into view, only to disappear. The morning itself is uneventful, and though you hear distant noises, it's a rather unassuming and brisk walk along the slightly winding path. The muffled sun slowly rising in the sky. Bluto tailing behind everyone else, with Arugal just in front of him. Beren likely leading the procession. A golden warble in the mist to anyone looking from just outside of the twenty food space, though disappearing beyond the next twenty feet. Neither of the extras to the party talk along the way aside from the slightest grumbling from Bluto about hos his feet hurt.
Towards the middle of the day, your excellent progress is suddenly stopped as two men with the attire of a roguish vistani happen to be heading in the parties direction. They seem to be talking among themselves when both parties spot eachother, the pair drawing shortswords as their eyes scan over the group until they see Arugal... At which point, to most, they'd be seen moving their hands awkwardly.
Only if you can read Thieves Cant:
Friend? Mark?
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Occassional Dungeon Master.
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(Giving Beren/Moira a chance to reply, will post on tuesday otherwise but addressing Nivi's checks and other factors breifly)
Before Nivi left to check the area, the moment the name had passed her lips - "Raven Queen" - She would feel the subtlest of sparks caress her nerves like the shadow of a shadow of a breeze long forgotten. But it was faint. Easy enough to miss had her senses not been so focused in that moment. It passed as swiftly as it came, leaving only the cold normalcy that Nivi was slowly getting used to here in this land of shadows and mist, where even the day is as dark as the duskfall.
Outside, likely much to her satisfaction, she found that aside from a few late night stragglers, and the usual Soulless who -though they did move, eat, and do as others- idled about as if an incarnation of melancholy and apathy. Speakign in low whispers amongst themselves, only speaking to others if spoken to first... But no obvious enemies revealed themselves, nor any Naerdowells, aside from Bluto who was inside, and under the watchful eye of a Vistani, who so far had proven to be gruff, brutal, but willing to listen more or less.
(Alternatively, if you all wish to go to bed, We can do that as well.)
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Olamoira, absorbed in the newly-gemmed hilt of Beren's, doesn't pay much attention to Nivi and Jack's banter with Urwin... only a very slight grimace at the mention of the Raven Queen, a sort of haughty distaste, as if dredged up from some hundred-years past, and it is gone again in a moment. She eyes the hilt, sitting on the table between her and Beren, as if wondering about something and drawing a blank. I don't know enough yet about the things of the Light. To Beren, she asks, "What is the holy symbol on your armor? What god--what church serve you?"
Beren tenses, one hand moving to clench the front of his tabard where the golden emblem was emblazoned. He isn't even sure why he should keep wearing this thing, it has never meant anything to him and now that he's trapped here away from the church...
He sighs, letting his hand fall to his lap, if not for the mask Olamoira might have seen a look of something close to disgust. As it is though, the mask is unreadable. However by the tone of his voice it is clear that he doesn't have much love for those he served.
"I do not know what the symbol means. It was given to me, so I wear it," There was some sort of symbology to the emblem, but he never cared to put it to memory. He pauses, unsure how blunt he should be. "The Church of Kelemvor." That was the church that sent the clerics to begin with, and they were the ones who claimed him after all those years.
His gaze shifts downward, hands clenched as if fighting back memories. Then he lets out a sigh, uninterested in speaking with Urwin or even Nivi and Jack at this point. If they show interest in the hilt then they can look at it, if not, he'll head upstairs once Olamoira has asked her questions. He is unsure what her opinion of Kelemvor will be, though he doesn't really care either way. It isn't like he really serves that god anyways. He's just a pawn that the church leaders and clerics move as they see fit.
Olamoira doesn't answer for a moment... trying to recall the snatches of lore she learned from the Ilmatari, who Kelemvor is. "Oh!" she says, after a minute. "The Judge. Why, yes. That makes sense. It's not a pretty job, but it is absolutely essential, to..." She smiles plaintively, but a haunted look in her eyes soon overcomes it, and barely another moment passes before she bids a quick goodnight to the others and quickly runs up to her room, closing the door. The Judge... I should have been judged, I should have lost my life! But I was granted mercy that I never deserved. Overcome, she folds herself up into a corner of the room, and bows her head over her knees. She grits her teeth as if in pain, but knowing she has to face the guilt and heartbreak---every time it comes---she sits quietly to wait out her own demons. At least perhaps I am learning not to unnerve my companions.
(Seems everyone is more or less going to their rooms, so I'll proceed.)
Though the inn is sturdy and well kept, each of you in your respective rooms, the faint sound of the winds plaintive dirge outside as the night grew ever later. Faintly, at the edge of hearing, the sound of fearsome beastial wolfcalls could be heard, though they never sounded as though they were 'getting closer.' (so don't jump out of bed!) realizing that every night until you left this place would be full of howls, growls, and other unnerving noises. The nighttime was the only time that the clouds parted, with the moon casting ghastly shadows across everything. The mist however, always clung low to the ground, adding an effervescence to the shadows that would occasionally find enough purchase in the light to cast themselves across the walls like gnarled fingers.
You all think on the last day or so here, realizing it really has only been two days .. three at the most, with the exception of Nivi whom was here slightly before everyone else. Wood creaking whenever the wind would pick up. You all feel generally safe here.. you're within the walls. Beren's sleep, and .. everyone else's reverie is restful (long rest) and you feel yourselves rejuvenated by morning. Your sleep was dreamless, yet, you can't help but feel somehow different. As if some memory you had forgotten had wormed its way into your mind, or perhaps a lesson you hadn't been paying attention to - atleast not consciously - filled your mind. In some way, shape, or form, you feel just a little more ready than you were before.
How do you begin your day? Bluto and Arugal would be downstairs already, eating food in an otherwise empty Inn, aside from Irwin and his small family.
Everyone level up.
If your 'unassigned character' is below level 3, level them up. if they are already level 3, leave them be.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Olamoira eventually sits up to complete her meditation... a dark, roiling, fast-paced thing it is. A rat trapped in a maze. Whether her mind runs from herself, from her past, or from the looming undead threats that rule this land, it is hard to tell. The Judge. Mercy has been offered, but will the Judgment still come? The rat runs desperately through the maze, unable to find an escape. But then it stops, and a black-hued elf stands up, her robe and hood of undyed wool seeming to shimmer bright white. Leave the trappings of fear behind. Beyond our ken is the ultimate fate of our soul, but into my own hands I can take it, and trust in this moment that if I follow faithfully, not I but the Divine Light through the Twilight in which I live, even as Twilight heralds the Dawn without fail. I will be the Dawnbringer, and he the Sun. And together we will dispel the night.
Ola opens her eyes, her meditation finished, and she sits quietly for a long time. From her backpack she takes a candle and her tinderbox, and lighting the candle, she then takes out her book, and her pen and ink, and opening the book to a blank sheet, writes down the same words, in Elvish, in spidery calligraphic script. She spends the next few hours carefully illuminating the page, even with only the walnut hull ink, she draws careful leaves, flowers, vines, everything that grows under the sun, even as she herself never did. But that will change now.
The drow packs up her things, but doesn't strap on her leather armor. The heavy mace she picks up, and tests her strength on it, the same strength that pulled a drowning girl from the depths of a lake. My strength is weakness. No longer my strength, but only that of the Divine. Putting her backpack on only over her robe, she walks downstairs, and over to Bluto and Arugal. "Good morning," she says. "The time has come to join the fight. Here is a gift." To Arugal, she hands her mace and her leather armor. Then she goes to sit at a table in the corner to wait for her companions.
Beren stays silent, not really knowing what he'd expected Olamoira's reaction to be. He watches as she leaves, and then watches as the others move up to their rooms as well. He stays seated for a moment, gaze shifting to the hilt on the table for a while before he heaves a sigh and stands up. Retrieving the hilt from where he'd set it, he tucks it away and then approaches Urwin before heading upstairs.
Hesitantly he asks, "If it isn't too much trouble, would it be possible to have my breakfast delivered to my room in the morning?" It would be much more convenient for him to eat upstairs in the confines of his room where he doesn't have to worry about taking off his mask. It seems silly, all things considered, but he can't bring himself to risk the safety of others. The mask provides a barrier, whether phycological or not, that helps him keep the light contained. It has been years since he's taken it off in the presence of another, and longer still since anyone has seen him remove the mask and live to remember his face. "Whoever brings it up can knock and leave it outside my door."
He pulls out some of the coin from their reward, "Also, I'll pay ahead of time for my companions meals as well." He isn't really worried about Jack and Nivi, but as far as he knows Olamoira doesn't have any money. And based on previous actions, she may decide to skip eating if no one gives her something. Besides, he'd prefer they all use the money with Strahd's visage on them before parting with the coin from outside the mists. His reasoning for paying ahead of time though is so they don't have to wait for him to come down to eat, but he doesn't feel like that needs to be voiced.
Once that is taken care of, he heads upstairs and finally gets some much needed rest.
___________
Assuming Uwin was fine with the idea of delivering his food, a request that Beren feels slightly guilty about, he takes his breakfast in his room. Even after he is finished, he stays in his room for a while, taking some time to be alone without his mask or armor on before jumping into whatever trials await later in the day. Finally growing weary of doing nothing he dons his armor and mask and then heads downstairs. The light flickers when he notices Argual with Olamoira's mace and armor... He'll assume she gave them to him, but he doesn't really understand why. Still, he won't question it, instead simply moving to where his companions are waiting.
Nivi wakes early and saunters down the stairs at dawn. She is more than ready to pay for her own breakfast, but will not turn down a free meal if Urwin suggests that Beren has already done so. For once, she eats decently instead of nibbling and picking at her food, knowing there is a long day ahead.
She raises an eyebrow as Olamoira parts with her weapon and armor, but she does not doubt that her companion can hold her own regardless, having seen that the drow zealot's capabilities are hardly limited to swinging a blunt weapon at a foe. She grins at Arugal.
"Anyone else hands you a head-basher like that, Ruby, I'd say they're just getting you to lug it for them, hoofing it down the road. Could be wrong, but you don't strike me as the mace-waving type either. More a blade-to-the-back guy, yeah? But knowing Prophet here, she means it, so all good."
"Guess now we just need to check if Shorty turned into someone else again like he did last morning. And if Beren's decided to bloody sleep in..."
Nivi is a bit impatient to get started, though not actually angry at Beren for being late. She understands the masked, armored man likely has his reasons.
She uses the extra time to spread Luvash's map of Barovia upon the most convenient dry table or bar countertop in the common room, and, at an opportune time for Urwin, confirms with the innkeeper the party's route to the Wizard of Wines and landmark locations so she knows them by heart.
Depending on what says hello to us along the road or at the winery, might have to run from something... could be no time to check the map again...
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
(OOC: This post kept getting away from me, and I couldn't figure out how best to trim it down. So, rather than subject people to a wall of text, I kept most of the morning stuff in a spoiler. That way peeps have the option to not be besieged by character fluff that isn't really reactable to.)
There was no ottoman's to speak of in Jack's room, but the lack of such creature comforts was not unknown to him. Any old spot on the ground with but his bedroll to sit upon has served well enough in the past. And yet...
And yet...
And yet, the Eladrin found himself frequently besieged during his own reverie about moments in which such a pleasure had been available to him across many life times. Despite the absurdity of it all, it was never quite enough to break his focus so completely as to interrupt the process. Certainly no more than the faint sounds of bestial howls or the more nearby noise of wood encouraged to creak and groan from the wind outside.
Eventually, enough was enough, leading to Jack full embracing the moments over further gentle attempts at dismissing them. And then he felt it. A feeling of warmth gradually embracing his skin like a soft, weightless blanket. The kind that came when the morning sun shone through a nearby window, promising a day full of possibilities and joy. The scent of lavenders, roses, and... and was that lemonade he smelled on the wind? His heart began to quicken at the thought of rising to confirm it; and yet, he stopped just short doing so, knowing full well the folly of it. Still, he found himself yearning to hold on to the feeling even as the world around him grew colder...
When Jack finally opened his eyes, his first instincts were to look to the nearest window, or failing that he closes his eyes and tried to focus on feeling out the natural energy that flowed through all places for some measure of comfort. A task always easier said than done in places of "civilization", but never wholly an impossibility. But even without new visions flooding his mind he could no longer ignore the sensation of wrongness to the magic suffusing the realm. So for the first time in an exceptionally long time, he willfully distanced himself from it as much as he could and looked to a by then trembling hand.
With the next breath, he clenched the hand into a tight fist. In exhaling, he relaxed the hand only to reach for his pack and root around in it until able to pull out both a book and writing utensil. What at first began as another journal entry spiraled into a nonsensical arrangement of phrases and words with no obvious pattern to it... until he stopped writing hours later. Though the words themselves continued to make little sense beyond maybe being excerpts from various children stories, it is /how/ they were arranged on the pages that was more an interest. As looking at the greater whole revealed the vague shape of a eight legged creature that appeared almost... alive. Jack would sit there staring for a few minutes more at his work, deaf to his surroundings, but occasionally turning his head as if listening to something.
"Yes... Yes you're right... That would make for a good twist... Time to be bolder." He said with a smile as his skin, clothing, and hair began to change again...
"Goooooood Morning, Barovia! And what a wonderful morning this is! Hah hah!" Said Jack, announcing his presence from the moment of coming into view of the main area. He appeared to have returned to his more lankier physique, though everything from his eyes to clothing appeared to have changed to varying shades of gold and yellow. He then jogged over to whichever table the rest were congregated at, and following a clap of his hands he said with a grin, "How are you lovely ladies and gents this fine morning? Good I hope! But if not, then worry not, as I'm sure things will only get better from here! Haha! Ain't that right, Hugo!" He claps the man hard on the shoulder, though Bluto would hardly feel it as Jack was no strongman. In fact, Jack soon pulled the hand away and shook it. "Haha! That bloody well stung! Goes to show they build them strong in Barovia, eh, Hugo?!" He then turned to Arugal, still grinning all the while. "And good to see you, Argyll! Breakfast been treating you well so far? Of course it has! Ain't that right, Urwin!" He called out to the man before finally seeming to notice the map.
"Well what do we have here! Getting an early start on checking the route again? Fantastic, Nibbles! You know from the first time we met I just knew you were one dependable gal, haHAH!" He asserted his eyes finally landed upon the drow. "And why hello there, Olly! Good to see you, as always! Especially now as you seem to be in better spirits! Love to see it -- JUST love to see it, hahah!" Jack carries on before his gaze finally settles on Beren. "Ah Barbosa, my friend! Here to brighten everyone's day as always with that lovely demeanor of yours. Ready to fight the good fight! And by fighting the good fight, I mean tackling that road and showing it who's boss, eh? Hahahahah!!"
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Warlock - Archfey
Nivi does a slow, ironic pan over to Jack as the Eladrin, transformed once again (for the second consecutive morning) makes his dramatic entrance.
Still, she grins and winks him when he calls her Nibbles, which after all describes the way she eats quite aptly. Her drawl is deadpan as ever.
"Sister and I had this tutor. Real charmer. Tara loved him, and me... well I only dozed off a half dozen times. Told us the changing of an Eladrin's season is a rare and wondrous thing. Wondrous, I'll give him, but twice in two nights is about as rare as Shorty changing his socks."
(Nivi has clearly mistaken Jack's latest shift as another changing of the Eladrin's season).
She taps her finger on her lips for a moment, her eyes suddenly distant. Right... the tutor... that spell he taught only Tara after I told him I was only fidgeting cause my legs were asleep? Protection... miss goody two-shoes showed me one time... could work against these bloody undead and fiends...
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Jack scoffs and waves a hand dismissively off to the side. "It certainly IS a wonderful thing, but I personally wouldn't go so far as to say it in itself is THAT wondrous!" He said with a chuckle to his voice towards the end. "Then again, I guess to those who found themselves 'stuck' as they are after scurrying off to the primes and other realms, they just can't help but see otherwise! Perhaps even feel a bit envious!" The eladrin continued before leaning in close and waggling his eyebrows at Nivi, before letting out another genuine chuckle of amusement.
"I'd offer assurances that this won't be an every day thing, but that was more yesterday's Jack, eh... "his" thing. And who knows when that Jack will make a reappearance! Could be later today, could be in a week, or could be never again depending on how this story of ours plays itself out! Oh, what a DElightful bit of uncertainty, isn't it?" Jack giggles and did little jig on the spot, before then abruptly stopping with a snap of his fingers. "But your tutor wasn't completely wrong. It TENDS to be a rare thing... for some Eladrin, at least. As the change in season is as much dependent upon our surroundings as it is our emotions! Though some scholarly dullard would no doubt correct me by clarifying it's all about how we feel and the setting is merely aaaan influencer. Like enjoying a pleasant breeze on a summer day or watching the rain make a DREADful muck of one's hardwork on some project outside."
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Warlock - Archfey
Urwin observes this all with interest as those before him seem more strange than usual.. particularly the Eladrin. Jack was likely the first Eladrin that the man had ever heard of, let alone seen in person. And the only reason he knew it was the same person was how everyone .. including Jack himself, addressed himself. Food was delivered to those who had asked, as it had been paid for. It would have been free but much like the night before, would have been lesser for it as the man cannot afford to just give away everything - by his own words - especially considering this place only gets traffic from within Barovia.... and his wine and ale getting thinner with every passing day, may curb that sooner rather than later.
Arugal eyed the armor and mace curiously... Wondering what the drow was up to, but remained silent. His greatest acknowledgement being a grunt, as he half-ate-half-picked at his food. Making sure Bluto stuffed his face so the man wouldn't be due for another 'whine' for at-least a few hours. He began to check the armor Moira had given him, to see if it was better or worse than what he already possessed... And as Nivi pointed out.. Aye. Not much of a mace user. Requires a bit more strength and a lot less finesse... he said cooly. Though his eye went to Bluto.... Oi. I got no use for these.. but seeing as you're going to be joining us... You'll atleast be better fodder.. and last a bit longer with this on, than running around in your town rags, and punching things with your bloated fists... Put this on. And make sure you come back eh... would be unfortunate if I had to do more than knock some sense into you. You have ten minutes. Bluto Eyed the gear worriedly, but it was clear at this point he feared what Arrugal might do to him. Quickly taking the armor, and the mace, and running off with it, staggerdly, but not drunkenly so... to his room. The armor would likely be a ..tight fit for a man as out of shape as he was.
So, what's the plan then? Arrugal asks as he finishes his breakfast, moving over to the group. I'm a might bit frustrated after dealing with Bleeters shite, and want some beastie to stab.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Beren isn't entirely sure what to think of this new Jack... so instead of addressing the stark change from the Eladrin's demeanor yesterday, he does his best to take it in stride pretend nothing is different. Even if he doesn't really appreciate this... new nickname, at least Jack seems to be in good spirits.
He watches the scene between Argual and Bluto unfold, keeping quiet in spite of having his own thoughts on giving the least reliable member of the group a bludgeoning weapon and armor. Hopefully having some protection helps the pathetic fisherman gain some confidence... or at least enough nerve not to run off at the first sign of danger.
Turning to Argual he nods and then looks to Nivi, "I am ready to depart if the rest of you are." His voice holds no eagerness or impatience, but it is clear that he would rather be doing something than standing around conversing.
"Let's roll. You don't hear from us in a couple days, Urwin, then guessing you probably won't, the way this land is. Unless it's our undead bodies come back maybe, wanting a drink. Either way, we'll get the wine flowing. Meantime, you and your dame keep an eye out, yeah?"
Gallows humor aside, Nivi shows everyone the route along the map in case anyone becomes separated from the group.
If there is no further discussion, Nivi makes her way out into Vallaki, heading towards the appropriate gate on the way to the Wizard of Wines. Both she and Shiv remain vigilant for trouble or familiar faces, such as Luvash, the Wachter boys, or the bard that Jack had met.
Hoping to see none, really. Kind of can't wait to get out of this bloody town, no matter how bad the land outside the gates is...
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
"Hmm~ Now I wonder how a drink my taste using a dead tongue now? Hahah!" Jack wondered aloud, before his expression turned abruptly serious. "Best we not find out, as I quite like current complexion." He then breaks out into a smile, took a moment to polish off whatever drink had been served along with breakfast during the earlier interim, then sprang out his seat just as eager to leave as Nivi, if not more so!
However, for all of his enthusiasm Jack does stop just short of leaving to make sure Bluto caught up with the party. At which point the Eladrin would try to and wrap an arm around him for a side-hug and walk alongside the rotund man like an old friend. "That reminds me, Boyo! You probably will need quite a bit of training up on the road, won't you? Well not to worry, my friend, as me and Barbie there will be more than happy to teach you along the way, rest assured!" Jack declared with a broad grin before immediately launching into some random story that started off as a lesson about general weapon handling to some adventure of a trio of goblins named Huckle, Beberry, and Finn as they traveled along the Stonejaw river on a dire crocodile.
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Warlock - Archfey
(I'll update soon, with my usual 'speed travel till something happens/nightfall' I will also give bluto a +1 to his attack tolls thanks to Jack.)
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Bluto eventually coming back out, wearing the armor that was a bit too tight on his rather full figure, and holding the mace like a drunkard might a bottle he intended to fight with, though defeat still hung in the air around him. He couldn't bring forth the energy needed to talk much right now. Arugal had cowed the man. But atleast the oaf would have slightly better odds of not dying to the first thing the group came across. As the course was set, Arugal noted it, though he personally already knew where the winery was. And though the man looked deadly, he remained mostly passive now that Bluto wasn't causing issues. Urwin waving you all goodbye, and wishing you luck. Soon, you all left the town, heading Westward... towards the same gate that most of you came through initially. It was Dim and early in the morning when you all did finally leave the town.
E1: 10
E2: 19
E3: 16
Occassional Dungeon Master.
7
Occassional Dungeon Master.
3
Occassional Dungeon Master.
The world is foggy, always. Each of you can barely see beyond twenty feet out before all fades to grey-white noise. The tree's perpetually coming into view, only to disappear. The morning itself is uneventful, and though you hear distant noises, it's a rather unassuming and brisk walk along the slightly winding path. The muffled sun slowly rising in the sky. Bluto tailing behind everyone else, with Arugal just in front of him. Beren likely leading the procession. A golden warble in the mist to anyone looking from just outside of the twenty food space, though disappearing beyond the next twenty feet. Neither of the extras to the party talk along the way aside from the slightest grumbling from Bluto about hos his feet hurt.
Towards the middle of the day, your excellent progress is suddenly stopped as two men with the attire of a roguish vistani happen to be heading in the parties direction. They seem to be talking among themselves when both parties spot eachother, the pair drawing shortswords as their eyes scan over the group until they see Arugal... At which point, to most, they'd be seen moving their hands awkwardly.
Only if you can read Thieves Cant:
Friend? Mark?
Occassional Dungeon Master.