To a party of seasoned adventurers such as yourselves, what you see is but another dull tavern in another dull town in some nameless province. It is but another span of time between the challenges of true adventuring.

Outside the tavern, a fog lies over the town this evening. The damp, cobbled pavement glistens as the lights of street lanterns dance across the slick stones. The fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside.

Yet inside these tavern walls the food is hearty, and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth, and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk.

Suddenly, the tavern door swings open, and a hush falls over the room. Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides through the doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Without hesitation, he walks up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms.

In an accented voice he says, “I have been sent to you to deliver this message. If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my Master’s aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich Woods at night!” He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. “Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich Woods. There you will find my master in Barovia.”

Amid the silent stares of the patronage, the man strides to the bar and says to the wary barkeep, “Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched.” He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he leaves.

Apologies. Just realized death domain is in DMG. I will work on switching to twilight domain.

June looks to the man with skepticism. He calls out to the man although he normally keeps quiet.

"And... Who are you to give us orders?"

The man ignores June's query and strides out of the Inn to be swallowed up by the fog.

(Everyone: To avoid confusion please indicate when your character is acting or speaking.)

June watches the man, considers for a moment, and look looks to the group around him.

"The hell was his problem?.."

Orlan speaks up "Oh I'm sure there was no ill intent, after all he did pay for all of our drinks. And drink we shall!" Orlan gathers everyone around for a drink and says, "He says that anyone of honor would go to meet this man. Well I am not one to back down from an offer such as this. Honor is the most telling thing of a person, either you have it or you don't. Now who is with me to see this individual in the morning? For now though, we shall drink!" Orlan grabs mug of ale and downs it.

Tuck looks around at the others at the table, his gaze straying back to the heavy purse just casually thrown down before them. If the hireling can toss coin about like that, what will the master be willing to part with...?, the Halfling wonders.

To the others, he offers, "Honor tis a fine thing, there's no doubt ... but ye cannot fill your coffers - or your belly - with it. Still and all, I'm of a mind to hear the fellow out. What with 'im being so generous as to see to our libations this evening. And as he says, those woods are not to be traversed on a night such as this, or any night."

He pauses for a moment; his gaze troubled and faraway, as though remembering some ill adventure; shaking out of his momentary reverie, Tuck continues. "Neither are they the safest by day, without a wee bit of company, so I'm willing to travel in the morning with the likes of 'honorable' folk such as yourselves. 'TIl then ... to your health!" 

He offers his dented tin mug up in a toast to the others, and to whatever lies before them, settling back in his chair to observe the others.

Shayan eyed the stranger warily as he entered the tavern, slowly rocking her chair by pressing her knee against the table, and listened him out. As soon as he left, she gets up to get her mug filled and downs it right away, grinning smugly at Orlan before prodding the bar tender for a refill. "Did this guy," she points to the closed door, "did he just offer a job? I didn't get what was the job. Did he say?" She scratches her head, apparently trying to sort out if there was some hidden detail in his message but she concedes. "I guess it will be well paid. Anyway, I think it's worth checking out. Might be there's more free ale for hearing the full story. I'll go." Taking a hasty gulp, "In the morning. After we are finished here." She empties her mug and asks for more. "Honourable folks don't leave things half finished, I'd say... To our health!" she chimes in with Tuck.

June looks to his companions, waits for a moment, then slams his mug to the table.
"Then I suppose I'll go. The drinks were admittedly a nice bribe... I doubt he offers us drinks as a kind deed though. I worry that meeting someone 'kind' shouldn't require such a bribe."

DM: If you find your Character deactivated it means that you're using material from a sourcebook not allowed in the Campaign. Please. make the appropriate changes to bring your character back in line.

Also, I've given the active characters a potion of healing. (Superior)

The next morning you set off down the Old Svalich road. The going is slow due to the fog that persists from last night, a chilly north wind causes you wrap your cloak tightly around you. Finally, after around five hours you reach the border of Barovia.

The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence.

Orlan shakes off the last of his hangover and rubs his eyes. Looking upon the headless statues he asks the rest of the group "Think this is the place? Kind of gives me the creeps but I suppose most things around here do. Anybody want to lead the way? Not that I am scared or anything but I would just prefer someone else go first...." There is an obvious shakiness to Orlan's voice as he speaks to the rest of the group. 

"The people of this land do like drama, putting these eerie, headless figures in the middle of the road. Also why do they need an unmanned gate? All I can see is forest and an empty road." Shayan shakes her head in disbelieve, kicks one of the heads to see if it budges, and then passes through the gate wondering if she should take this as a good or bad sign. 'Should I take down my shield or would it be prudent to wield the Crossbow?' Shayan ponders, 'There's not a soul in sight, but that's how all ambushes start, isn't it?'  Shayan has been visibly put at unease at the sight of the severed heads.

(How accurate do you like us to be? I refer to which equipment we carry or wield, like weapon/shield etc., or do we take this easy?)

"...Ooookay. We got this guys." June tries to hide his cowardice and walks hoping that everyone will follow in.

As you approach the gates, they swing open, the squeaking on their hinges shattering the silence. The passage into Barovia lays before you.

Orlan follows the others through the gates into Barovia. "I don't think we received any direction after this." Orlan recounts the note that was left by the strange individual 'Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich Woods. There you will find my master in Barovia.'  After reciting the directions from the letter, he looks around a bit in confusion. "I don't think I see anyone. Where do you all suppose we go next?" 

"I'll be following you, don't look at me." June looks at the others.

“Might be they are waiting somewhat further down the road,” Shayan suggests and continues walking.

Content until now to simply follow along, listening and observing the others, Tuck quickly grows impatient at the gates. I'll grant you, that's more then a mite unsettling... he thinks to himself, staring for a moment at the headless statues on either side of the imposing gate - which apparently swung open of it's own accord. With a sigh that seems well-practiced, the little halfling steps up. "I suppose I can scout ahead a bit, see which way makes sense. Presumably, our "host" will be expectin' us, as we set out when we were asked to - likely he'll make himself known - or it'll be obvious where we are supposed to go. If there's anything to worry about, mayhaps a bit of distance between me and the armored folks might serve us well? I'd prefer to know about them before they know about us."

Stepping through the gates with only a momentary pause to muster his nerve, Tuck gazes around a bit as he heads a few steps in the same direction they've been heading until now - making a sharp whistle at one point. Gliding through the fog on silent wings, a tawny owl glides down from the trees, alighting for a moment on the halfling's shoulder, who grunts slightly under the talons. "Let me know if 'ya see anything  - or anyone - worth investigating, Luna" , he croons softly to the owl, who launches herself back up into the misty air. "Not that she can make out anything in this blasted fog."

With that, the little halfling steps quietly along the path ahead.

Tuck's perception as he looks around, moving forward: 4  Luna (his familiar) Perception: 19

let me know if the fog has an effect on the perception rolls. EDIT: grr - I hate when I go back to fix a typo, and it changes the dice roll, then says it's manipulated. Need to remember that once a post with a dice roll is posted, not to edit it even if I misspell a word, which drives me nuts. The original roll was a 19 for me, and a 7 for my familiar. Also, I typed this before Shaylan's post about moving forward showed up - one of the challenges of pbp games is someone else posting at the same time as yours can make for occasional awkwardness. 

As the last member of the Party passes through the gates, they swing shut with a loud clang!  You continue your journey following the road through the forest. Towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave yet exude the feeling of an unvoiced scream.