Giles nods and steps forward, speaking with a calm manner, as if settling troubled parishioners, practiced in his manner to provide balm to the soul.  “Indeed.  We are here to help you, dear sir.  You must be Davian, Davian Martikov.  The person of which we speak is Urwin, your brother … we are staying at his inn.  The folk who live in Vallaki, they love your wine so!  And when the shipments stopped, well, let’s just say that it hasn’t gone over too well.  We are here to investigate, to see how we can help you.  Do we need to drive off druids?  Or mountain mongrels?  Please, we are here to help you, let’s help each other, yes?”  His hands come together in the center of his body and he gives a slight bow and an easy smile to Davian, awaiting his response.  

Burr stayed silent the others speaking enough for him.

Davian's face is a mask as he listens to Soren.  You think you might see a hint of a smirk beneath his bird at the word 'estranged' but that is the only emotion he betrays.  

He is less stone faced when listening to Father Giles, but his response is still gruff.

"Aye, the wine doesn't flow.  That's the least of the problems here, damnit.  We've lost the whole vineyard... our homes.  There won't be another drop of wine, not now, not never, less something is done."

He turns and levels a finger further up the path, where it widens out into the open fields and terraces of the vineyard.  As he points, you see the glimmer of little pieces of silver and charms sewn to the lining of his cloak.  "It started five nights ago.  Raiders from the mountain clans, berserkers.  Comin' in, wave after wave.  Something had them riled up, good.  Never been on good terms with 'em, but they usually know better than to mess with us, as we can give good as we get.  This time though... they wouldn't stop.  We had to retreat back inside the winery.  The bastards didn't press any further - not then - but they started tearing up the fields.  Years of cultivation... good for naught but rotting on the ground now."

When he looks back, you can feel the snarl on his face, though his white beard obscures much of it.  "Then, though, the true architects of our misfortune showed themselves.  The mad druids... no doubt they put the berserkers up to their nonsense.  Probably plied them with magic tricks and fermented goat piss."  He spits in contempt.  "Aye, the druids.  They joined in the fighting on the second night, and completed the ruin of my fields.  Then they retreated back to their Circle, in the hills to the southwest." 

"Me and some of the boys, we rallied and went after them, looking for a little payback.  But they routed us, the filthy, vermin-crusted devils.  And the followed us back.  They came... and with them came abominations of nature, twisted little bush creatures, full of thorns and needles.  With their minions and their spells, the breached the winery, this time aiming to kill us all, no doubt."

"I got my family out, but now where are we?  Hiding out in the bushes for days like bloody animals, all while those things run roughshod in our home."  He is practically shaking.  You notice now that there are still more faces peering out from the trees.  A few more men, some women, and a handful of children as well.  Altogether there are at least a dozen of them.  Wide eyes in pale faces watch you from the shelter of the misty forest.

When you return your attentions to Davian, he sighs and lowers his voice.  "So Urwin asked you to come?  Hmph.  Mayhaps the first useful thing that boy has done in years.  So yeah, we need help.  We need help bloody awful.  There is wine inside, barrels of it.  Doing everyone a fat lot of good right now.  But if you lot can liberate the winery, kill those bastards inside... Yeah, we will see that wine gets delivered as fast as we can get it up on a wagon."

He goes on to tell you a large group of druids came at first, but several retreated.  They have been keeping an eye on the winery from a distance and believe there are currently 3-4 druids still inside.  In the winery, and and the fields surrounding are, are dozens of the druids' blight creatures, small twig and thorn monstrosities.

Zefla listens to the tale of woe from the man, and though she doesn't usually get caught up in strangers' business.. well, things are a bit different here and if they can help others, maybe it'll somehow repay them back on how they find their way out of this awful place.

She draws her rapier and smiles, "Well.  Sounds like we have a family that needs their home.  Shall we take care of this boys?"  she smiles at them as she starts walking towards the vineyard.  "Three or four?  We can take those.  Then... we'll take care of the rest." she growls the rest of the words, anger starting to uncurl in her stomach as she catches eyes of the little ones that now have no home.

No stranger to losing his beloved home, Soren listens to Davian Martikov's plight with sympathy, both he and Nettle staring at the older man with unblinking gazes.  Until he hears of the attacking druids arriving with abominations of nature, twisted little bush creatures, full of thorns and needles.

At that Soren's face contorts into an unwitting snarl.  "Can it be true?  As a newcomer here, I had thought the ever-present shadow and corruption hanging over this land to be the doing of the darklord alone.  Yet perhaps it is also these druids who betray Silvanus' order.  Our raven allies from Vallaki spoke of druids in the valley, twisted and tormented, as the land is tormented.  What they have wrought here cannot be allowed to stand.  I will help."

He turns to Zefla.  "Aye we must defeat these corrupted druids, but beware too these thorny abominations Davian Martikov claims they bring with them.  Though perhaps if we slay the druids, then the abominations they summon will wane in their threat."

Finally, back to Davian:  "Watch the skies.  If we survive and have reclaimed your lair safely, Nettle, my owl friend, will return above this spot and fly in a wide circle thrice, or we ourselves will return.  If she returns and flies back and forth in a straight line instead, we need your help at once to tip the scales of battle.  Of course if none of us return at all, it likely means we have failed and you will be in the same predicament you are now."

Zefla stares at Soren, "You, my friend, have a very interesting battle cry.  If none of us return at all..." she mutters the last words.

Giles stands now not leaned forward, leaning in with his hands together, unctuous smile.  As the story unfolds, he broadens his stance, feet shoulder width apart and he crosses his arms, a frown comes upon his face.  His voice gets gravely and he says merely, “Right.  Worse than I thought.  We… we will handle this.”  When Zefla and Soren start to move forward, he says out loud, “Hold!”  He waits for them to stop, then he approaches, looking over at Burr, saying “Perhaps we need a plan for this approach.  Not rushing in all slapdash.”  He touches Zefla on the shoulder, she feels the blessing of Tymora, feels even a little more sneaky than usual.  

“I have this scroll, I can cast a spell, pass without trace.  It will allow us to sneak up on the druids and see what they are doing, attack them unawares.  What do you say?” 

Burr looks at Giles his facial expression betraying that rushing up and swinging is exactly what he wants to do but he nods his head, " This land is corrupted and it guardians have followed it into corruption......they should be delivered from this existence.  And if we can sneak up we're more likely to be able to cut the head off rather than waste energy battering vegetation."

Soren looks flummoxed at Zefla's reference to a battle cry.

"Ah, I see... is it customary for city dwellers to cry before battle?  I had thought tears were reserved for mourning the fallen afterwards..."

Trailing off as the halfling begins to mutter, Soren falters, then turns to Giles and Burr, nodding solemnly at the not-Father's plan.

"I recognize this primal magic you speak of, Pass Without Trace, though I lack the ability to invoke it now.  When you read the scroll, perhaps you can include Nettle as well as us humanoids, and also... Thorn."

Murmuring and gesturing with his free hand, Soren summons a bestial spirit in the shape of a wolf, who seems solid enough like Nettle, not incorporeal as Bramble the bear had been.  Thorn seems to grin at the party, the wolf's tongue lolling partly out of his mouth.

(Casting Summon Beast - beast of the land:  concentration up to 1 hour).

“Well, if all agree, here goes.”  He looks to Zefla, nodding back to her if she agrees, then reads the pass without trace scroll, including everyone and everything that Soren mentioned.  “Hey, Soren.  Can Nettle fly up ahead and scout out the best route for us?  Then we will sneak in, Zefla in front.”  

Soren nods and glances briefly at Nettle, who wings up and towards the direction Davian Martikov had indicated.  The owl familiar tries to fly from tree to tree to maximize cover and stealth, taking the dodge action while in the open air, swooping this way and that.

Once she is over one hundred feet away Soren can no longer telepathically communicate with her, and in this dark land with dark druids ahead, Soren is loath to let her venture further away.  So Nettle keeps a hundred feet ahead as the party approaches quietly, reporting telepathically on what she sees.

Burr takes his assigned position as they move up-

Stealth- 30

Giles walks right behind Zefla, remaining silent and hidden in his approach, he feels the magic working through him and he moves as quietly as he ever has in the past.  He keeps his hand on his crossbow, eyes darting around, looking for movement.  

Stealth : 35

"Cry?  No..ugh, nevermind."  Zefla shakes her head and decides it isn't worth trying to explain it to Soren.  She looks with interest at the scroll Giles pulls out and as he touches her with Tymora's blessing, she smiles.  Suddenly she feels like she could go anywhere undetected.. a good feeling indeed.

Once they start off however, she turns back to Giles, "Hey, off my ass.  Give me a bit of room, k?"  but she keeps her eyes peeled as they head towards the winery, wondering what these thorny abominations might look like.

Stealth:  38 (crit lol)

Perception:  8

The party advances up the trail, toward the winery.

[Good news.  We don't need a Stealth check from Soren.  With the bonus from Pass Without Trace, even a 1 + your stealth modifier is enough to beat the passive perception of anything that might be wandering the fields...]

A light drizzle begins to fall.  Unpainted fences blindly follow the trail, which skirts south of the sprawling vineyard before bending north toward a stately building.  The vineyard comprises a series of stepped terraces that rise up the slope of the nearest little mountain.  The fog takes on ghostly forms as it swirls between what may have once been neatly tended rows of grapevines.  Now, many of them lie broken on the fields, their trellises smashed and ruined, grapes trampled on the ground. You see rope-handled half-barrels used for hauling grapes and many of these have been kicked over or had holes stomped in them. 

Though shrouded in fog, the vineyard is not empty, nor is it silent.  You hear the rustle of dead vines all around you.  Inhuman shapes move along the terraces, their limbs cracking as they trudge forth through the mist and rain.  Here and there, you catch glimpses of them.  Wandering clumps of root matter, branches and thorns, they have taken on vaguely humanoid shapes, with legs and arms, while some even have rudimentary heads and faces.  At times they crouch down in the fields and dig, uprooting grapevines or tearing down the supporting trellises.  

Soren, you find something about these creatures utterly repellant.  They are not mere awakened shrubs or animated plantlife.  There is something terribly wrong with them.  It isn't life or nature that animates these creatures and gives them initiative.  They are motivated not to take root; to flourish; to grow... these things are compelled only to rip; to tear; to despoil.  No sooner do some of these creatures wander away from your line of sight, then more appear elsewhere.  There must be dozens of these things ambling about the vineyard.

Soren also notices that these creatures are not the only unnatural plant life here.  As you pass through the vineyard, there are several large clumps of thorny vines that have erupted from smashed grape trellises.  These vines twitch and writhe inconsistent with the winds, suggesting some supernatural animation.

With the help of Father Giles' scroll, and guidance from the little owl above, you are able to navigate you way though the fields and terraces without conflict.  

Situated in the midst of the vineyard, the winery is an old, two-story stone building with multiple entrances, thick ivy covering every wall, and iron fencing along its roofline. The trail ends at an open door in the building that leads into a small dark entryway.  Around the other side, a wooden stable of more recent construction is attached to the far side of the winery, next to a large ground floor loading dock.  In the vicinity of the main winery building is a crumbling well and a wooden outhouse.  Further away you can see the outlines of smaller homes, reminiscent of the cottage structures you have spotted dotting the roads and paths of Barovia.  Some of those outbuildings are currently swarmed with these blight/plant creatures, worrying over them and tearing them down one plank or shingle at a time.

You have reached the main building unnoticed, shrouded as you are by mist and spell.  There is the small door in front of you, and the larger loading dock around the other side as obvious entry points.  There may be other points of entry, but those are the only ones visible.

Soren's wonderment and satisfaction at the primal magic of Pass Without Trace is utterly ruined by the perversion of natural plant life he sees before him.  Witnessing the myriad corrupted creatures of root and branch and vine despoiling all that is living and grows raises a fury within him.

Calling Nettle to his shoulder and laying a hand on the thick fur at the base of Thorn's neck to steady himself, he growls quietly to the others, seething:

"These foul druids betray everything with their handiwork.  Silvanus' wild spirit corrupted and turned on itself.  It cannot be allowed to stand.  We must slay them all without mercy or hesitation.  If the arboreal abominations in the vineyards still remain after that, then they too must be destroyed."

Not instinctively familiar with the layout of human buildings, Soren leaves it to the others to choose whether to enter by the front door or the loading dock.

Burr heads for the loading dock as quietly as he can....

About to head into the front door, Zefla notices Burr head to the loading dock and grumbling, heads that way too.  Not enough of them to split up now.

As Burr quietly circles the winery, the rest follow.  Heading toward the open loading dock, the party passes a smaller door in the side of the stone building.  A quick check shows it is locked up tight.

Adjacent to the loading dock is stables.  The scent of hay and horses is still strong, but the gate stands open and the stables themselves are empty.  The spirit wolf sniffs at the ground but doesn't detect the horses anywhere nearby.

Stepping cautiously inside the loading dock, the party sees signs of conflict but no current threat.  Parked in the loading dock is a wagon with three barrels set in braces on the bed.  The barrels are all etched with a logo that reads 'The Wizard of Wines' and below that 'Purple Grape Mash No.3.  A quick check shows that all three barrels are full and undamaged.  The wagon itself, however, has a deep set of claw marks raked down one side.  A raised wooden walkway runs along the west, south, and east walls. Through a hole in the ceiling you see the wooden arm of a loading crane with ropes and hooks dangling from it.

There are two doors in the SW corner of the room.  The door in the west wall is closed, but the door to the south has been smashed open and hangs partially off its hinges.  It opens onto a stone hallway.  Further down the hall, you see a set of double doors leading west that are also smashed.  At the end of the hall, a ramp winds up and down in a corner tower.

In the loading dock, just in front of the broken doorway in the SW corner, is a pile of twigs and dried grass.  You could almost tell yourself it was some kind of large bird's nest, but having seen the creatures outside, you recognize this is the corpse of a slain blight.

Soren gazes around the loading dock for hidden creatures or footprints (other than our own) and listens for any creaking from the floor above indicating creatures moving.  Unfortunately, his disgust at the sight of the dead blighted creature ruins his efforts.  Nettle, perched on his shoulder, does a better job.

Soren Perception (or Survival):  9
Nettle Perception at advantage due to Keen Hearing and Sight:  20 (dirty)

He quietly relays any findings, if any (most likely the owl's) to his other companions.