She nods along as you speak, smiling brightly at Father Giles' words in particular, but before she can say any more, the door opens and the servant returns carrying trays... and is followed by another. A hunch-backed older woman pushes a cart with more food upon it.
The servants lay out a feast on the dining table. Roasted goose in gravy is paired with fresh bread and goose-liver pate. A variety of steamed and boiled root vegetables including carrots, potatoes and turnips are provided as well. There are several bottles of an aromatic red wine of an unfamiliar vintage: Porliost. The servers set five plates with matching glasses of wine, before the hunched one retreats. Vilka remains beside the cart, apparently intending to stay and serve the table directly.
"Ah,"sighs your host. "Come, let us move this conversation to the table. But first... please, your weapons. There is no place for such tools at a supper table. You have my word, no harm shall come to you under my roof, but I must insist you lay those down on the serving cart."
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr lay the spear down turning to Vilka as he did so, " Careful with this, the angry spirit of an ancient warrior lies within and will curse anyone but myself who takes it up."
His other he lay down less dramatically.
He approached the table with some trepidation having never been to a dinner party that didn't involve eating with your hands before.
Soren remains quiet, noticing that Lady Wachter has not ventured anything about herself yet. Which seems off, since she already seemed to have been keeping tabs on the group, knowing they have been halfway across the valley, while the party know next to nothing about her.
He stares at the serving cart for a long moment, as if it were some strange and unexpected plant. Finally, he lays his weapons on the cart, keeping his small wooden shield with its carved sigil of Silvanus slung at his back. Soren's eyes wander uneasily back to the fog outside the windows.
Father Giles puts his crossbow on the cart, but similar to Soren, he leaves his shield strapped to his backpack. He gives Lady Wachter a subtle nod then heads to the table to sit down, waiting to sit until everyone is situated. His eyes dart toward the roasted goose in gravy, and despite the strange situation, his mouth begins to water.
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Zefla gives an audible sigh, and starts rummaging in her pack. On to the serving cart she lays her crossbow, longsword, rapier, shortbow, silvered shortsword, spear, and one of her daggers. She makes a big production of it and glares at Vilka to say, don't you touch these.
Then walks into the dining room, enjoying the scents as she does.
As Burrissues his warning, Vilka's eyes rest on the spear, uncertain and fearful. "Charming," says Lady Fiona without inflection.
Vilka continues to watch with silent alarm and the halfling girl unloads her personal armory onto the cart.
Once the party is seated, bread and pate are passed with goose, gravy and vegetables are served to each in turn. Fiona Wachter discourages further conversation until everyone has had a chance to enjoy some of the food. The meat and gravy are a little bland but based on what you have eaten so far in Barovia, you gather that this is quite an extravagant feast.
After a few minutes, she raises her glass of wine. "While this is from my personal cellar, the people of Vallaki have you to thank for the security of their own wine supply. The town owes you a debt, travelers. I'm sure my sons are singing your praises down at the Blue Water Inn as we speak." She lists her glass. "To those willing to risk all, for the good of all." Pausing a moment to see if anyone joins her in the toast, she then takes a long sip of wine, a bit running down her cheek. She self-consciously wipes it away with a cloth napkin.
Then she looks pointedly at Father Giles. "You said before, 'all is not well.'A play on words, of course, of that foppish saying of the Baron's, forced upon the people under pain of torture." She raises an eyebrow. "Did you know that? That the good Baron has special cells put aside for the 're-education' of wayward citizens? Wayward, in this case, meaning anyone who dares to speak truth to his declining senses?"
"It is a travesty. There is much that is not well with this town... with this land... but to bury one's head in denial and delusion rather than take stock of the real issues and address them... well..." she pauses, searching for the words. "... it leads to madness."
She pauses again, seemingly lost in thought. Then she looks to Burr. "You mentioned an incarcerated friend. May I guess that it is the half-devil put out on display by Baron Vallackovich? A lucky stroke for him," she mutters. "Had he not played that card, I think this afternoon may have gone poorly for the good Baron...". She shakes away the thought. "And if she is a friend of yours, am I safe to guess she is also innocent of the charges against her? That she played no role in the attack on St. Andral's? Another victim of the Baron's white-knuckled grip on Vallaki?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Soren turns from the fog beyond the window back to Lady Wachter, and raises his drink to the toast to the 'good of all' expressionlessly.
"We do not know for certain that our incarcer-, inca... ah, captive friend is innocent, but I think she is. Mostly because it should be clear who is actually behind the attack on Saint Andral's. I think you know it too... my lady."
He studies the noblewoman, seeing not an aristocrat, but a rival alpha seeking to lead a pack, using Silvanus'Guidance he had cast earlier.
Sensing Lady Wachter's relentless disdain for anything she considers beneath her (which seems to be most things), Soren looks her directly in the eyes.
"So who is it that will free this town from 'denial and delusion', will 'take stock of real issues and address them'? Who is it that should ideally maintain a grip on Vallaki, 'white-knuckled' or not? I sense I already know your answer. Not the 'good Baron', probably. How much blood should be spilled at your command to make the change? Is this what you discuss at your book club meetings, Lady Wachter?"
It is strange, he muses, I liked the wine-loving sons who Zefla pummeled at drinking games better than I like the mother.
Giles looks over and widens his eyes at Soren, thinking “How forcefully stated, easy Soren!”, a look of bemusement crossing his face briefly and then the infectious smile returns, looking back to Lady Wachter, gauging her coming response. He arches his hands in front of him, elbows on the table and pausing in his rather vigorous consumption of the meal to gauge her words. “What is she getting at? What does she want us to do?” Giles is wondering..
Insight : 20
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Fiona Wachter nearly spills her wine glass at Soren'saggressive approach. She looks almost stunned, before her eyes harden, staring daggers at the druid. It is several moments before she speaks.
Father Giles:
You get the impression Lady Wachter is legitimately shocked by what Sorenjust said. Up until this point she had been supremely comfortable and was feeling good about how the dinner was progressing. Now, her face is a mixture of confusion, anger, and maybe a little fear and disappointment as well. You still get the impression she is looking for a way to salvage this meeting, but she is no longer sure what to say.
As she speaks, she seems to grow more and more upset, until she is shouting. By the end, she begins to reign herself back under control and appears to be both embarrassed and alarmed by her outburst.
At last she looks away from Sorenand down to her wine glass, which she swirls, contemplatively. "It must be empowering. To pass judgement so, over the desperate."
"Yes, it's true, I am deeply invested in the fate of Vallaki. And yes, as you surmise I have been meeting with likeminded folk on this for some time. But do not be so quick to mistake my passion for blind ambition, alone. Unlike the Baron, who clings to his delusions while the people suffer under his iron fist, I seek only to bring true prosperity to our beloved town. The Wachter's have been here since the founding. My husband - my late husband - would not have sat idle so long as I. Our suffering would not have been so profound. But now, at this late hour, I am moved to find a way out of this mire."
She looks at Sorenagain, eyes still hard, but searching. "You speak of bloodshed as if it were some foreign concept, but let us not forget the battles you have fought, the lives you have taken in pursuit of your own goals here. Tell me, are your hands truly clean? Can you claim moral superiority over me when you, too, have spilled blood without hesitation? Or is your judgement supreme, infallible? When you take up arms to secure the flow of wine, is that sacrosanct, while discussions of revolution to end torture and the restrictions of speech - of thought - is somehow base and unworthy? Oh, to possess such power of judgement," she huffs. "The gods themselves must envy your wisdom, master druid."
She takes a long drink of wine, then sets down the glass. She turns her eyes from Sorennow and looks at the rest of the party, each in turn. "And is this how you all feel, then? That I am some conniving political creature bent on personal power alone? That I have lured you here with wine and conversation to make you my knives in a plot against the rightful rulers of Vallaki?"
"What then, would I offer, to seduce you to my cause? Am I the type to ply your heartstrings? To tell you of how the Baron's vile whelp took advantage of my own daughter, breaking her mind and leaving her a speechless invalid?! Unable to tell even her mother what has been done to her?" She balls up a napkin in her fist as if to throw it, but then releases it to the floor.
She quiets her voice then. "Or am I the type of politician to sell you something in your own interests? To tell you of how the woman Ireena - your friend - is even now a prisoner in the Baron's own home? That she was seized up from the scene of the attack on St. Andrals, even as she was trying to defend the people at risk to herself, and spirited away by the Baron's henchman, Izek Strazni? That the guards, even those sympathetic to our cause, are afraid to speak of her fate?"
"Tell me," she rasps, "since you so plainly know my motivations. Tell me how someone like me would trick you, seduce you, beg you, to do something that only you are in position to do?"
She is almost panting, but forcibly collects herself. After a few moments of slowing her breathing, she lays both hands on the table. "These are dire times, and you are strangers in a strange land, with your own concerns. I understand. And you have made clear you don't trust me. But your interests and our interests align more than you realize. You can help yourselves, help this town, help this land... but I can't force you." She pushes away from the table and moves to stand near her husband's portrait over the hearth.
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Meanwhile, Vilka has gone white as a ghost, looking like she just witnessed a murder and thinks she might be next.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Soren remains gazing at Fiona Wachter, head tilted to one side and eyes reflecting the chandelier's light like a wolf's. A wolf at bay, yet a wolf nonetheless.
As the noblewoman's onslaught abates, the druid murmurs as much to himself as his companions: "We never mentioned anyone named Ireena."
Sighing, he continues. "You speak in concepts and abstracts which are foreign to me, Lady Wachter. 'Prosperity' and addressing 'real issues'. How would you lead the pack of Vallaki? Would the folk be terrified to death of your rule as the others in your den so palpably are?" He looks pointedly at Vilka.
"These things you accuse the Baron of sound awful. Torture, kidnapping. The harsh restriction on speech, we have witnessed. Something strange with his son and your daughter? (I will say, the son seemed to me to be of quite a different mind than the father). Yet from the moment we walked in, your unspoken disdain for anyone you consider below you, such as me or my friend Burr, have been plain to see" Soren shakes his head.
"I am not blind. I see the issues with the Baron's heavy-handed folly. Yet, I do not yet see how replacing him with you helps anyone. For that is why we took action at the Wizard of Wines. TO HELP. The corrupted druids who attacked that place and their rabid axe-wielding allies summoned and consorted with corrupted bights of Silvanus' world. One wielded a 'vampire staff' hewn from the wood of a Gulthias Tree, grown from the defiled stake that slew an ancient vampire. They were in the midst of summoning some vile winged fiend-like abomination that they gleefully predicted would ravage the land when we interrupted them, stopped their ritual, slew them all along with their blighted allies, and destroyed, we hope, the Gulthias Tree."
"THAT was my purpose. THAT was why I took up arms. Bringing wine back to the land was ALSO our goal, and my friends may or may not have joined me without that. But UNLIKE YOU, we did not do so in a quest to rule over a town, nor in the name of abstractions like prosperity and avoiding denial and delusion. You seem keen to capitalize on the attack and to point out the Baron's deficiencies and outright cruelties in addressing it. But what of the attack itself? What of the MURDER of Father Lucien and other cathedral-goers?On the actual attack itself, you are strangely silent. Do you know who was complicit? Does the Baron summon and consort with fiends, evil undead and other abominations? With... vampires?"
Zefla, who had been enjoying the bland but decent meal and dreaming of the sweet bread she had earlier, stops and stares at Soren for his cutting words. What was he playing at? Frustrated, she asks aloud, "What are you getting at Soren? This woman has invited us into her home and fed us, before assuming her intentions, lets ask."
When the Lady has regained her composure and responds, Zefla watches transfixed, with a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. As the woman stops over by the portrait of her husband, she lowers the food, "Please, come sit. I am sorry you've been upset." she glares at Soren, "Please, tell me what happened to your daughter? And yes, we would like to know about Ireena, thank you for mentioning her, letting us know. We will need to find a way to get her out of there. Why would the Baron have taken her? That makes no sense."
Lady Wachter stands with her back to the table, looking at the fireplace, while Sorenand then Zeflaspeak.
"I think we have said enough to each other." She turns and walks toward another doorway to the northwest and opens it. Before going further, she announces, "As your host, I am expected to allow you to finish your meals and drinks. Please, enjoy. Then collect your things and leave."
"Vilka, see that they don't forget anything, and then help them to the front door once they are ready to leave."
Then she steps through the doorway, closing it behind her.
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr wasn't exactly sure what had just happened but he did seize on the news that Ireena was being held by the Baron and that was all he really needed to know.
" Thankyou for the food and hospitality.", he said as he rose from the table and went to claim his weapons.
" Truly."
Two people were being held captive......and he was of a mind to do something about both of them....
Giles sighs, looking down at his plate, then shrugs, finishing his meal. He is determined to finish the meal spread before him before leaving. Every now and again he looks up and glances at Soren. With a mouth full of a roll and while chewing, he says, “Well”, *munch munch*, “that could’ve gone better.” He reaches for some more carrots and potatoes, and ladling some gravy on his remaining portion of goose. “Like a veritable turd in the punch bowl. That was a good example of how to end a party.” He looks over to Soren, saying “I would have maybe used a more … subtle approach? Maybe your pack and living out in the woods didn’t teach you that, but it can make quite a difference among civilized company…”. Giles says as he has a sip of the Porliost, making sure to hold his pinky out, drinking daintily and sniffing the bouquet. Another sigh escapes his mouth as he rubs his belly and then he dabs his mouth with a napkin. He stands and pushes his chair back in, saying “I guess… our work is done here?”
He turns to Vilka, saying “I imagine most dinner meetings and the book club go better than that, right? Who is typically coming over to meet in your house? Where do you usually meet, in here? I would have you say apologies to Lady Wachter on my behalf, Vilka. We were just trying to start talking when that kind of… blew up. I’m sorry.”
As Lady Wachter speaks with her back to the party, Soren visibly bares his teeth, canines prominent, pupils dilating in his wolfish eyes. All silent.
As she speaks, and even before his companions respond, each in their own way, the druid quietly arises and lopes quietly over to retrieve his weapons, praying for Silvanus'guidance in this strange and fraught world of city-folk manipulations and cold-blooded murder.
Let any murder I do, or is done to me, not be cold-blooded. Let it be in the moment, red in tooth and claw...
Strahd's fog rolls heavily through Lady Wachter's estates.
She knew Ireena by name though we hid Ireena's name. I do not think her enemy, the Baron, told her. Who else, then, but Strahd or his lackeys?
She speaks only of capitalizing on the aftermath of the attack, and of vague abstractions like "prosperity," not of how to stop such attacks. Nor even any commiseration on the horror or tragedy of it. Only focused on supplanting the Baron as pack leader, and manipulating us to help her achieve it.
Her den-mates (servants) are terrified to death of her.
I gave her the chance to affirm she stands against evil undead, fiends, and blighted abominations. She would not do it. I put it in the context of everything we did at the winery to stand against such evil. I asked her to denounce and mourn for the attack on the Cathedral. Instead of responding substantively, even angrily, she turns tail and asks us to leave. She would not even meet our eyes, seeming to speak to the painting and the fireplace!
Soren calls out to Lady Wachter, following her to the door she is exiting and through, shield donned, looking around him, and on a hair-trigger for combat. (Provoked if anyone, including Lady Wachter, attacks, blocks or casts a spell at him, or if Lady Wachter flees without responding substantively).
"If you have nothing to hide, let us hear it, Lady Wachter. I think you are complicit, or aware in advance, of the attack on the Cathedral. You speak not just as an ambitious would-be pack leader, but as an ally of Strahd. Do you swear upon your late husband that you knew nothing of the attack on Saint Andral's? That you oppose Strahd? Not in the Baron's heavy-handed, self-defeating way, nor directly as the 'mage and his rabble' did, but trying your best to oppose the evil corruption that weighs heavy upon Barovia at Strahd's pleasure? As I swear upon Silvanus that we have opposed it?"
(OOC: If he has time, Soren would use a further action to expend a use of Wild Shape to summon his owl familiar Nettle to his shoulder).
As Father Giles offers his laments on the breakdown of civil discussion, he sees Burrand Sorenrise from their seats and claim their weapons from the serving tray. Burrseems intent on leaving, but even as Father Giles takes a sip of wine and begins to question the servant Vilka, he sees Sorenconjure his little owland then stride in pursuit of Lady Wachter, throwing open the door.
He calls out his challenge to her.
The doorway leads into a 15'x20' den. It shares the fireplace with the parlor outside. Wood paneling, embroidered rugs, colorful furnishings, and a blazing fire make this chamber stifling. Mounted above the mantel is an elk’s head. Across from the hearth, tall, slender windows look out over dead gardens covered in fog.
A familiar man - the one with the ill-fitting suit who had passed along Lady Wachter's invitation at the festival - is seated in a plush red chair. He was in the middle of taking a sip of wine from a golden goblet when Soren barged in. Now he sits frozen in the chair, eyes wide.
As the tension in the room reaches a boiling point, Lady Fiona Wachter's composure wavers, her facade of politeness cracking under the weight of the accusations hurled at her. With a trembling voice, she addresses the aggressive druid, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and fear.
"You come into my home, dine at my table as a guest, and accuse me of having a hand in that atrocity at the church?" She levels her walking cane at Soren. "How dare you?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "You would name me a murderer, and in the same breath demand I denounce the rightful ruler of Barovia? You have no idea what you speak of, druid. None at all."
"You wish to make an enemy of Count Von Zarovich? Fool! Who do you suspect it was who asked me to invite you here in friendship? Who wanted you to know about the danger posed to your friend? It is he, who hopes against hope that you and your allies would see his beloved Ireena delivered from her prison. For he knows well the depths of his own wrath... he knows that if he himself is moved from his perch at Ravenloft and takes up arms to free her, it will not end with Ireena's release."
"Vallaki will be a charnel slaughterhouse." She sneers. "He wishes to avoid that. He thought you would be willing to help. I am shaken deeply by how badly he misjudged you."
Lady Fiona's fist clenches the cane, her knuckles turning white with the force of her anger. "Strahd may have his flaws, but he is the only hope we have of maintaining order in this forsaken land. You think you can waltz in here, make baseless accusations - invoke my DEAD HUSBAND - and demand I bow to your will? You are sorely mistaken."
Lady Fiona takes a step forward, her voice dripping with venom. Meanwhile, the man in the ill-fitting suit has quietly slid out of his chair and retreated to hide on the other side, peeking out from over the top.
"Leave, all of you. Leave my home and never return," she commands, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. "I will not tolerate such disrespect in my own house. If you wish to play the hero, go ahead. Raise your hammers and staffs and break yourselves upon the walls of Ravenloft as so many fools have done in the past. Abandon this offer of friendship and abandon Vallaki... abandon your lives. I will waste no more words on dead men. Leave."
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr is already most of the way to the door.....the dinner has ended much as he expected it would though he is surprised that it was his own uncultured behaviour that caused the ruckus this time...
Soren's voice is a low growl that carries back to his companions, during Lady Wachter's soliloquy.
"She is Strahd's lackey, arranging this dinner at his request by her own admission. Bullying us into retrieving Ireena for him under threat of reducing Vallaki to a 'charnel house.' She claims Strahd wishes to avoid that? He could choose not to slaughter anyone, yet he blames the victims. She claims Strahd is the only hope for this land! These are all her words, not mine. Nor did she deny knowing of Strahd's attack on the cathedral, only spewing her anger at my suggesting it. Further, recall what our elderly friend told us - about a 'staunch ally of the devil,' Strahd's nickname in Barovia. We must finish her now. Her and her sneaky ally here who was spying on us through the fireplace during the entire dinner."
He steps behind the full cover of the wall next to the door, just outside the den. As he does, he calls forth Thorn once more (Summon Beast) and Bramble the spirit totem Bear to a point within thirty feet of all allies. (Soren and all of his companions, including Thorn and Nettle all gain 9 Temp HP).
Burr gave the woman a genuine smile, " I have never seen a place where things work in favour of the common folk......at least not intentionally."
She nods along as you speak, smiling brightly at Father Giles' words in particular, but before she can say any more, the door opens and the servant returns carrying trays... and is followed by another. A hunch-backed older woman pushes a cart with more food upon it.
The servants lay out a feast on the dining table. Roasted goose in gravy is paired with fresh bread and goose-liver pate. A variety of steamed and boiled root vegetables including carrots, potatoes and turnips are provided as well. There are several bottles of an aromatic red wine of an unfamiliar vintage: Porliost. The servers set five plates with matching glasses of wine, before the hunched one retreats. Vilka remains beside the cart, apparently intending to stay and serve the table directly.
"Ah," sighs your host. "Come, let us move this conversation to the table. But first... please, your weapons. There is no place for such tools at a supper table. You have my word, no harm shall come to you under my roof, but I must insist you lay those down on the serving cart."
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr lay the spear down turning to Vilka as he did so, " Careful with this, the angry spirit of an ancient warrior lies within and will curse anyone but myself who takes it up."
His other he lay down less dramatically.
He approached the table with some trepidation having never been to a dinner party that didn't involve eating with your hands before.
Soren remains quiet, noticing that Lady Wachter has not ventured anything about herself yet. Which seems off, since she already seemed to have been keeping tabs on the group, knowing they have been halfway across the valley, while the party know next to nothing about her.
He stares at the serving cart for a long moment, as if it were some strange and unexpected plant. Finally, he lays his weapons on the cart, keeping his small wooden shield with its carved sigil of Silvanus slung at his back. Soren's eyes wander uneasily back to the fog outside the windows.
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
Father Giles puts his crossbow on the cart, but similar to Soren, he leaves his shield strapped to his backpack. He gives Lady Wachter a subtle nod then heads to the table to sit down, waiting to sit until everyone is situated. His eyes dart toward the roasted goose in gravy, and despite the strange situation, his mouth begins to water.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Zefla gives an audible sigh, and starts rummaging in her pack. On to the serving cart she lays her crossbow, longsword, rapier, shortbow, silvered shortsword, spear, and one of her daggers. She makes a big production of it and glares at Vilka to say, don't you touch these.
Then walks into the dining room, enjoying the scents as she does.
As Burr issues his warning, Vilka's eyes rest on the spear, uncertain and fearful. "Charming," says Lady Fiona without inflection.
Vilka continues to watch with silent alarm and the halfling girl unloads her personal armory onto the cart.
Once the party is seated, bread and pate are passed with goose, gravy and vegetables are served to each in turn. Fiona Wachter discourages further conversation until everyone has had a chance to enjoy some of the food. The meat and gravy are a little bland but based on what you have eaten so far in Barovia, you gather that this is quite an extravagant feast.
After a few minutes, she raises her glass of wine. "While this is from my personal cellar, the people of Vallaki have you to thank for the security of their own wine supply. The town owes you a debt, travelers. I'm sure my sons are singing your praises down at the Blue Water Inn as we speak." She lists her glass. "To those willing to risk all, for the good of all." Pausing a moment to see if anyone joins her in the toast, she then takes a long sip of wine, a bit running down her cheek. She self-consciously wipes it away with a cloth napkin.
Then she looks pointedly at Father Giles. "You said before, 'all is not well.' A play on words, of course, of that foppish saying of the Baron's, forced upon the people under pain of torture." She raises an eyebrow. "Did you know that? That the good Baron has special cells put aside for the 're-education' of wayward citizens? Wayward, in this case, meaning anyone who dares to speak truth to his declining senses?"
"It is a travesty. There is much that is not well with this town... with this land... but to bury one's head in denial and delusion rather than take stock of the real issues and address them... well..." she pauses, searching for the words. "... it leads to madness."
She pauses again, seemingly lost in thought. Then she looks to Burr. "You mentioned an incarcerated friend. May I guess that it is the half-devil put out on display by Baron Vallackovich? A lucky stroke for him," she mutters. "Had he not played that card, I think this afternoon may have gone poorly for the good Baron...". She shakes away the thought. "And if she is a friend of yours, am I safe to guess she is also innocent of the charges against her? That she played no role in the attack on St. Andral's? Another victim of the Baron's white-knuckled grip on Vallaki?"
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Soren turns from the fog beyond the window back to Lady Wachter, and raises his drink to the toast to the 'good of all' expressionlessly.
"We do not know for certain that our incarcer-, inca... ah, captive friend is innocent, but I think she is. Mostly because it should be clear who is actually behind the attack on Saint Andral's. I think you know it too... my lady."
He studies the noblewoman, seeing not an aristocrat, but a rival alpha seeking to lead a pack, using Silvanus' Guidance he had cast earlier.
Soren Insight plus Guidance: 10 (OOC: 6+4 sigh) + 2 = 12
Sensing Lady Wachter's relentless disdain for anything she considers beneath her (which seems to be most things), Soren looks her directly in the eyes.
"So who is it that will free this town from 'denial and delusion', will 'take stock of real issues and address them'? Who is it that should ideally maintain a grip on Vallaki, 'white-knuckled' or not? I sense I already know your answer. Not the 'good Baron', probably. How much blood should be spilled at your command to make the change? Is this what you discuss at your book club meetings, Lady Wachter?"
It is strange, he muses, I liked the wine-loving sons who Zefla pummeled at drinking games better than I like the mother.
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
Giles looks over and widens his eyes at Soren, thinking “How forcefully stated, easy Soren!”, a look of bemusement crossing his face briefly and then the infectious smile returns, looking back to Lady Wachter, gauging her coming response. He arches his hands in front of him, elbows on the table and pausing in his rather vigorous consumption of the meal to gauge her words. “What is she getting at? What does she want us to do?” Giles is wondering..
Insight : 20
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Fiona Wachter nearly spills her wine glass at Soren's aggressive approach. She looks almost stunned, before her eyes harden, staring daggers at the druid. It is several moments before she speaks.
Father Giles:
You get the impression Lady Wachter is legitimately shocked by what Soren just said. Up until this point she had been supremely comfortable and was feeling good about how the dinner was progressing. Now, her face is a mixture of confusion, anger, and maybe a little fear and disappointment as well. You still get the impression she is looking for a way to salvage this meeting, but she is no longer sure what to say.
As she speaks, she seems to grow more and more upset, until she is shouting. By the end, she begins to reign herself back under control and appears to be both embarrassed and alarmed by her outburst.
At last she looks away from Soren and down to her wine glass, which she swirls, contemplatively. "It must be empowering. To pass judgement so, over the desperate."
"Yes, it's true, I am deeply invested in the fate of Vallaki. And yes, as you surmise I have been meeting with likeminded folk on this for some time. But do not be so quick to mistake my passion for blind ambition, alone. Unlike the Baron, who clings to his delusions while the people suffer under his iron fist, I seek only to bring true prosperity to our beloved town. The Wachter's have been here since the founding. My husband - my late husband - would not have sat idle so long as I. Our suffering would not have been so profound. But now, at this late hour, I am moved to find a way out of this mire."
She looks at Soren again, eyes still hard, but searching. "You speak of bloodshed as if it were some foreign concept, but let us not forget the battles you have fought, the lives you have taken in pursuit of your own goals here. Tell me, are your hands truly clean? Can you claim moral superiority over me when you, too, have spilled blood without hesitation? Or is your judgement supreme, infallible? When you take up arms to secure the flow of wine, is that sacrosanct, while discussions of revolution to end torture and the restrictions of speech - of thought - is somehow base and unworthy? Oh, to possess such power of judgement," she huffs. "The gods themselves must envy your wisdom, master druid."
She takes a long drink of wine, then sets down the glass. She turns her eyes from Soren now and looks at the rest of the party, each in turn. "And is this how you all feel, then? That I am some conniving political creature bent on personal power alone? That I have lured you here with wine and conversation to make you my knives in a plot against the rightful rulers of Vallaki?"
"What then, would I offer, to seduce you to my cause? Am I the type to ply your heartstrings? To tell you of how the Baron's vile whelp took advantage of my own daughter, breaking her mind and leaving her a speechless invalid?! Unable to tell even her mother what has been done to her?" She balls up a napkin in her fist as if to throw it, but then releases it to the floor.
She quiets her voice then. "Or am I the type of politician to sell you something in your own interests? To tell you of how the woman Ireena - your friend - is even now a prisoner in the Baron's own home? That she was seized up from the scene of the attack on St. Andrals, even as she was trying to defend the people at risk to herself, and spirited away by the Baron's henchman, Izek Strazni? That the guards, even those sympathetic to our cause, are afraid to speak of her fate?"
"Tell me," she rasps, "since you so plainly know my motivations. Tell me how someone like me would trick you, seduce you, beg you, to do something that only you are in position to do?"
She is almost panting, but forcibly collects herself. After a few moments of slowing her breathing, she lays both hands on the table. "These are dire times, and you are strangers in a strange land, with your own concerns. I understand. And you have made clear you don't trust me. But your interests and our interests align more than you realize. You can help yourselves, help this town, help this land... but I can't force you." She pushes away from the table and moves to stand near her husband's portrait over the hearth.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Meanwhile, Vilka has gone white as a ghost, looking like she just witnessed a murder and thinks she might be next.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Soren remains gazing at Fiona Wachter, head tilted to one side and eyes reflecting the chandelier's light like a wolf's. A wolf at bay, yet a wolf nonetheless.
As the noblewoman's onslaught abates, the druid murmurs as much to himself as his companions: "We never mentioned anyone named Ireena."
Sighing, he continues. "You speak in concepts and abstracts which are foreign to me, Lady Wachter. 'Prosperity' and addressing 'real issues'. How would you lead the pack of Vallaki? Would the folk be terrified to death of your rule as the others in your den so palpably are?" He looks pointedly at Vilka.
"These things you accuse the Baron of sound awful. Torture, kidnapping. The harsh restriction on speech, we have witnessed. Something strange with his son and your daughter? (I will say, the son seemed to me to be of quite a different mind than the father). Yet from the moment we walked in, your unspoken disdain for anyone you consider below you, such as me or my friend Burr, have been plain to see" Soren shakes his head.
"I am not blind. I see the issues with the Baron's heavy-handed folly. Yet, I do not yet see how replacing him with you helps anyone. For that is why we took action at the Wizard of Wines. TO HELP. The corrupted druids who attacked that place and their rabid axe-wielding allies summoned and consorted with corrupted bights of Silvanus' world. One wielded a 'vampire staff' hewn from the wood of a Gulthias Tree, grown from the defiled stake that slew an ancient vampire. They were in the midst of summoning some vile winged fiend-like abomination that they gleefully predicted would ravage the land when we interrupted them, stopped their ritual, slew them all along with their blighted allies, and destroyed, we hope, the Gulthias Tree."
"THAT was my purpose. THAT was why I took up arms. Bringing wine back to the land was ALSO our goal, and my friends may or may not have joined me without that. But UNLIKE YOU, we did not do so in a quest to rule over a town, nor in the name of abstractions like prosperity and avoiding denial and delusion. You seem keen to capitalize on the attack and to point out the Baron's deficiencies and outright cruelties in addressing it. But what of the attack itself? What of the MURDER of Father Lucien and other cathedral-goers? On the actual attack itself, you are strangely silent. Do you know who was complicit? Does the Baron summon and consort with fiends, evil undead and other abominations? With... vampires?"
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
Zefla, who had been enjoying the bland but decent meal and dreaming of the sweet bread she had earlier, stops and stares at Soren for his cutting words. What was he playing at? Frustrated, she asks aloud, "What are you getting at Soren? This woman has invited us into her home and fed us, before assuming her intentions, lets ask."
When the Lady has regained her composure and responds, Zefla watches transfixed, with a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. As the woman stops over by the portrait of her husband, she lowers the food, "Please, come sit. I am sorry you've been upset." she glares at Soren, "Please, tell me what happened to your daughter? And yes, we would like to know about Ireena, thank you for mentioning her, letting us know. We will need to find a way to get her out of there. Why would the Baron have taken her? That makes no sense."
Lady Wachter stands with her back to the table, looking at the fireplace, while Soren and then Zefla speak.
"I think we have said enough to each other." She turns and walks toward another doorway to the northwest and opens it. Before going further, she announces, "As your host, I am expected to allow you to finish your meals and drinks. Please, enjoy. Then collect your things and leave."
"Vilka, see that they don't forget anything, and then help them to the front door once they are ready to leave."
Then she steps through the doorway, closing it behind her.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr wasn't exactly sure what had just happened but he did seize on the news that Ireena was being held by the Baron and that was all he really needed to know.
" Thankyou for the food and hospitality.", he said as he rose from the table and went to claim his weapons.
" Truly."
Two people were being held captive......and he was of a mind to do something about both of them....
Giles sighs, looking down at his plate, then shrugs, finishing his meal. He is determined to finish the meal spread before him before leaving. Every now and again he looks up and glances at Soren. With a mouth full of a roll and while chewing, he says, “Well”, *munch munch*, “that could’ve gone better.” He reaches for some more carrots and potatoes, and ladling some gravy on his remaining portion of goose. “Like a veritable turd in the punch bowl. That was a good example of how to end a party.” He looks over to Soren, saying “I would have maybe used a more … subtle approach? Maybe your pack and living out in the woods didn’t teach you that, but it can make quite a difference among civilized company…”. Giles says as he has a sip of the Porliost, making sure to hold his pinky out, drinking daintily and sniffing the bouquet. Another sigh escapes his mouth as he rubs his belly and then he dabs his mouth with a napkin. He stands and pushes his chair back in, saying “I guess… our work is done here?”
He turns to Vilka, saying “I imagine most dinner meetings and the book club go better than that, right? Who is typically coming over to meet in your house? Where do you usually meet, in here? I would have you say apologies to Lady Wachter on my behalf, Vilka. We were just trying to start talking when that kind of… blew up. I’m sorry.”
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
As Lady Wachter speaks with her back to the party, Soren visibly bares his teeth, canines prominent, pupils dilating in his wolfish eyes. All silent.
As she speaks, and even before his companions respond, each in their own way, the druid quietly arises and lopes quietly over to retrieve his weapons, praying for Silvanus' guidance in this strange and fraught world of city-folk manipulations and cold-blooded murder.
Let any murder I do, or is done to me, not be cold-blooded. Let it be in the moment, red in tooth and claw...
Soren calls out to Lady Wachter, following her to the door she is exiting and through, shield donned, looking around him, and on a hair-trigger for combat. (Provoked if anyone, including Lady Wachter, attacks, blocks or casts a spell at him, or if Lady Wachter flees without responding substantively).
"If you have nothing to hide, let us hear it, Lady Wachter. I think you are complicit, or aware in advance, of the attack on the Cathedral. You speak not just as an ambitious would-be pack leader, but as an ally of Strahd. Do you swear upon your late husband that you knew nothing of the attack on Saint Andral's? That you oppose Strahd? Not in the Baron's heavy-handed, self-defeating way, nor directly as the 'mage and his rabble' did, but trying your best to oppose the evil corruption that weighs heavy upon Barovia at Strahd's pleasure? As I swear upon Silvanus that we have opposed it?"
(OOC: If he has time, Soren would use a further action to expend a use of Wild Shape to summon his owl familiar Nettle to his shoulder).
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
As Father Giles offers his laments on the breakdown of civil discussion, he sees Burr and Soren rise from their seats and claim their weapons from the serving tray. Burr seems intent on leaving, but even as Father Giles takes a sip of wine and begins to question the servant Vilka, he sees Soren conjure his little owl and then stride in pursuit of Lady Wachter, throwing open the door.
He calls out his challenge to her.
The doorway leads into a 15'x20' den. It shares the fireplace with the parlor outside. Wood paneling, embroidered rugs, colorful furnishings, and a blazing fire make this chamber stifling. Mounted above the mantel is an elk’s head. Across from the hearth, tall, slender windows look out over dead gardens covered in fog.
A familiar man - the one with the ill-fitting suit who had passed along Lady Wachter's invitation at the festival - is seated in a plush red chair. He was in the middle of taking a sip of wine from a golden goblet when Soren barged in. Now he sits frozen in the chair, eyes wide.
As the tension in the room reaches a boiling point, Lady Fiona Wachter's composure wavers, her facade of politeness cracking under the weight of the accusations hurled at her. With a trembling voice, she addresses the aggressive druid, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and fear.
"You come into my home, dine at my table as a guest, and accuse me of having a hand in that atrocity at the church?" She levels her walking cane at Soren. "How dare you?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "You would name me a murderer, and in the same breath demand I denounce the rightful ruler of Barovia? You have no idea what you speak of, druid. None at all."
"You wish to make an enemy of Count Von Zarovich? Fool! Who do you suspect it was who asked me to invite you here in friendship? Who wanted you to know about the danger posed to your friend? It is he, who hopes against hope that you and your allies would see his beloved Ireena delivered from her prison. For he knows well the depths of his own wrath... he knows that if he himself is moved from his perch at Ravenloft and takes up arms to free her, it will not end with Ireena's release."
"Vallaki will be a charnel slaughterhouse." She sneers. "He wishes to avoid that. He thought you would be willing to help. I am shaken deeply by how badly he misjudged you."
Lady Fiona's fist clenches the cane, her knuckles turning white with the force of her anger. "Strahd may have his flaws, but he is the only hope we have of maintaining order in this forsaken land. You think you can waltz in here, make baseless accusations - invoke my DEAD HUSBAND - and demand I bow to your will? You are sorely mistaken."
Lady Fiona takes a step forward, her voice dripping with venom. Meanwhile, the man in the ill-fitting suit has quietly slid out of his chair and retreated to hide on the other side, peeking out from over the top.
"Leave, all of you. Leave my home and never return," she commands, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. "I will not tolerate such disrespect in my own house. If you wish to play the hero, go ahead. Raise your hammers and staffs and break yourselves upon the walls of Ravenloft as so many fools have done in the past. Abandon this offer of friendship and abandon Vallaki... abandon your lives. I will waste no more words on dead men. Leave."
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Burr is already most of the way to the door.....the dinner has ended much as he expected it would though he is surprised that it was his own uncultured behaviour that caused the ruckus this time...
Soren's voice is a low growl that carries back to his companions, during Lady Wachter's soliloquy.
"She is Strahd's lackey, arranging this dinner at his request by her own admission. Bullying us into retrieving Ireena for him under threat of reducing Vallaki to a 'charnel house.' She claims Strahd wishes to avoid that? He could choose not to slaughter anyone, yet he blames the victims. She claims Strahd is the only hope for this land! These are all her words, not mine. Nor did she deny knowing of Strahd's attack on the cathedral, only spewing her anger at my suggesting it. Further, recall what our elderly friend told us - about a 'staunch ally of the devil,' Strahd's nickname in Barovia. We must finish her now. Her and her sneaky ally here who was spying on us through the fireplace during the entire dinner."
He steps behind the full cover of the wall next to the door, just outside the den.
As he does, he calls forth Thorn once more (Summon Beast) and Bramble the spirit totem Bear to a point within thirty feet of all allies. (Soren and all of his companions, including Thorn and Nettle all gain 9 Temp HP).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