Zefla is pretty stunned... to silence as she gazes at all the dolls in the room that look like Ireena.  As the others talk to her, Zefla picks up one of the dolls and looks it over a bit.  Who was this man, Izek?  Was he connected to Strahd in some way?  I thought we were protecting Ireena from Strahd, but it seems others have interest in her as well.  She turns to look at Ireena, is she who she says she is?  What do we actually know of this woman?

As these thoughts roil around in the halflings head, the disembodied voice reaches the group.  She steps out of the room as well and looks around for it.  As Soren makes the connection, she breathes a sigh of relief and waits for the response.

Giles turns and says “We are not playing games either.  Show yourself.  Tell us what part you have in this Mummer’s play?  It appears that Izek..”. Giles turns and points to the bed where Ireena was bound and the copious dolls, “has issues, kidnapping women and holding them hostage, having dolls that look like them, too many issues to unpack in our limited time here.  But suffice it to say that we are the “Good guys.”  We wish the fall of the Darklord who sits on his throne up in that high castle.  We are for the survival of the people, the health and well being of the people of Vallaki, and the well being of our friends.  Are you a friend?  I wish I knew.  There’s a saying, you know, that a stranger is just a friend that you haven’t met yet.  Come, show yourself.  I promise not to attack you, unless you mean us harm, or that you mean harm for the people of Vallaki.”  Giles arches his hands together, looking and listening for the direction of the sound, trying to localize distance, movement, and looking for any flicker in the air.

The voice snorts derisively.  "'Good guys,' says the burglar.  Yes, I think I'll assign great import to the direction of your moral compass.  Breaking into a noble’s house like common thieves, fumbling about in the dark, smashing down doors, thinking no one would notice.  And already talking about graduating from breaking and entering, to full-scale revolution?   My, you must be quite the ambitious ones, coming into Vallaki with such grand plans."

The voice shifts, its tone now filled with a cold, almost clinical disdain. "Though, you’re not wrong about Izek.  That brute is nothing more than a mindless thug, a blunt instrument my father wields without a thought.  You think he’s bad?  I’ve had the displeasure of living under the same roof with that... thing for years.  He’s as loyal as a dog and twice as stupid.  But at least a dog can be useful, be trained.  Izek, on the other hand, is just a walking disaster."

There's a pause, as if the speaker is studying them, weighing them in his mind. The voice softens slightly, though still laced with condescension. "So, you think you’re going to overthrow Strahd, do you?  Confront the Devil himself and save poor Barovia from its fate?  How quaint."  The sarcasm is almost tangible.  "Do you even understand the magnitude of what you’re saying?  Strahd is not some local tyrant you can unseat with a sword and a rallying cry.  He is... power.  Ancient, immutable power.  Our ancestors, five, six generations back, left journals memorializing his atrocities.  The idea of challenging him sounds like a child's fantasy.  Even my poor, ignorant father, prancing about with his performative defiance, understands better than to venture beyond the protection of Vallaki's walls."

Another pause, and then the voice resumes, now tinged with a hint of desperation hidden beneath the layers of arrogance.  "But you’re not from here, are you?  You don’t have the look or manner of speech of Barovians.  And you liberated the devil-woman.  Did you come here with her, through the mists?  Tell me, how did you travel through them?  How did you pierce the veil that binds us here?  And more importantly... can you do it again?  Can you help me escape this miserable, cursed place?"  The voice fades into silence, leaving the party alone in the oppressive darkness, but the tension remains thick in the air, the unseen presence lingering like a shadow.

[Giles, given how long you got him talking, make a perception check with advantage against DC 21.]

Giles perception : 23

”Perhaps … perhaps that could be arranged.  Maybe we could help each other.  You see…”. as Giles tucks his crowbar and disguise kit away in his pack, holding his hand up to the now disguised Ireena and Lady Bauer, “appearances can be deceiving.  All is not as it seems.  I think you would find that we have much in common, if you would but give us a chance…. right?”  And with that, Giles turns and looks dead away at him, with a smile and a nod, wordlessly indicating his position to his friends..

( Damian_Mays backup account-  My account is currently buggered like quite a few others and when I post or PM I get this-  " You can only make 1 post every 1 sec.")  I have reported and will try and muddle through until they can fix)

Burr is really wanting to get the hell out of here now, but if Giles has found the loudmouth maybe they can be made to show a better way out of here....either way they were rapidly running out of time.  He moved towards the stairs hoping to stymie any guards which came up so the others could find another route.

The voice, still disembodied, responds slowly, as if weighing the implications of Giles’ words.

"Perhaps... perhaps I’ve underestimated you. It’s not often I meet anyone in this town capable of seeing through the veil, both literal and figurative. Appearances, indeed, can be deceiving."

There’s a brief pause, along with the sound of shuffling feet as if the unseen speaker is shifting uneasily in place. "You say we have much in common. I wonder what you truly know of me, or if you’re simply guessing. But... you’ve piqued my interest. You’ve managed to locate me, which suggests either skill or luck, and I’m not certain which would concern me more."

The tension in the room is palpable as the invisible presence seems to draw nearer, the voice lowering in tone, becoming more earnest. "Escape. That’s what I want. More than anything. I’ve spent years trying to unlock the secrets of these mists, of this damned prison. If you can help me… then perhaps we can help each other after all."

Before anyone can respond, a piercing scream shatters the tense silence, echoing through the manor and sending a chill down your spines.  It comes from outside, high-pitched and undulating, painful to your eardrums even through the thick walls of the manor.  Almost immediately there is a chaotic roar of sound from outside: dogs barking, guards shouting, people screaming.

The unseen voice, now sharper and urgent, cuts through the noise.  "That’s no ordinary cry. It’s not safe here, not anymore."  His voice moves away, and you sense the urgency in his next words. "Follow me.  I can get us to safety—to my lab.  We’ll be secure there... and we can discuss this further."

A bedroom door opens and the invisible form pulls a rope, lowering a hidden stairway leading up into the manor’s attic.  The sound of his hurried steps urges you to follow....

Soren struggles to follow the conversation between the not-Father and the disembodied voice who must be the Baron's son.  He can sense his friend Burr's almost palpable urgency to get moving and he feels the same, like an animal trapped on a hostile pack's ground.

Then he remembers something.  The words flow from the druid's mouth almost of their own volition.  Madame Eva's words.

"The Donjon. No more items... this is an ally. This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness.  But it also speaks of isolation and imprisonment; of one who is trapped in their own beliefs. You must search for a troubled young man surrounded by wealth and madness. His home is his prison; his family his restraints."  Both Soren and Nettle stare into the space where they believe their invisible interlocutor to be.

Startled out of his reverie by the piercing scream from outside, Soren looks ready to bolt like a skittish animal, partially-pointed half-elven ears flattened against his scalp.  He looks to his companions to see if they follow the invisible young man into the uppermost level of the Baron's man-den.

Burr is visibly torn....he can see no way how following this petty....wizard?...some sort of spells are involved at least....gets them and those rescued out of here....he can tell Soren is similarly undecided.

Giles hears Soren and the expression changes on his face, like a light bulb going off over his head, he quickly gathers everyone and says “We must follow!  This is our path, I know this is strange, but at a minimum we can rest and recover, choose our time to exit as right now would be difficult.  Follow me!”  He follows after the sound and heads up the trap door, motioning quietly with his hands for everyone to follow him, including Ireena and Lady Bauer.  

Once up the stairs, he looks around quickly for a light source and gets his bearings, casting light if needed.  

Zefla looks at all the people with them now and she feels uncomfortable.  Like she and her three friends are now responsible for these others.  She had already made the connection to the son and just nodded to Soren's assertion.

She eagerly follows Giles up the stairs, wanting to be clear of that piercing scream.  As soon as they get up there, she is greatful for Gile's light and looks around to her new surroundings, making sure it wasn't a trap.

Perception:  nat 1 :) (5, passive 14)

Then to the voice, "What was that scream?"

Burr grimaces apologetically to the two ladies and attempts to herd them quickly upstairs as well, " I'll get you both out. You have my word, even if it kills me."

Soren's shoulders relax slightly as the decision is made, and his half-elven ears perk up slightly once more.

To Burr's comment, he adds, "And by Silvanus' wild grace, I promise that as long as any of you live, should you fall, I will channel His primal magic to restore nature's vitality to your life blood while I myself draw breath."  (Addressing everyone visible - his companions, along with Ireena and Lady Bauer).

He then follows the others.  Despite the obvious danger of the situation and the unknown source of the awful scream outside, he cannot help but ask the Baron's son:  "Three nights ago, when the storm, or rather the Darkord's frustrated anger, hit the town, we happened by this manor house and noticed unnatural purple lights glowing in one of the uppermost windows.  I sense that you must have been the source of those lights?"

As the party ascends the narrow, creaking staircase into the attic, the air grows thick with the scent of old wood.  Shadows stretch long and eerie across the cluttered space as one of Giles casts a light spell, illuminating the attic in a pale, ghostly glow.  The light reveals stacks of old furniture, covered in cobwebs, and crates filled with forgotten belongings.

At Burr and Soren's professions of solidarity and protection for the group and one another, a loud sigh is heard.  "How noble," the voice remarks dryly.  "All the melodrama… You really think that matters in a place like this?  Dying to protect a friend may sound heroic, but it’s still dying, isn’t it?  A fine sentiment, but let’s see if it gets you anywhere in Barovia."  When Soren asks about purple lights, the voice reacts defensively.  "How should I know what you've seen?  And can you really raise the dead, as you just promised your friend?"

When Zefla asks about the nature of the scream, the voice doesn't immediately answer, and when he finally does, he seems to choose his words carefully.  "It wasn’t human, that much I know.  Something not of this world, or at least not of the living world.  Here in Barovia, that usually means one thing—something terrible."  He lets that hang, avoiding a direct answer.  "Whatever it was, it’s nothing we want to meet.  But we will be safe in my lab."

As the last of you ascend the ladder, Tourmaline pauses.  "I don't want to be trapped up here...".  As if in answer, there are the sound of raised voices inside and boots on the stairs near the front of the house.  Outside, one of the barking dog gives a sharp cry, then is silenced.  And from somewhere in the house below, the sound of breaking glass.  With a hiss through clenched teeth, Tourmaline pulls up the hidden staircase behind you, concealing the attic access again.

The attic is full of old, forgotten things draped in white sheets. Piled around them are barrels, crates, trunks, and old furnishings covered with cobwebs and dust.   By the light of Giles' spell, you see a clear footpath through the maze.  The disembodied voice guides you through the debris.  "This way," he murmurs impatiently.  "The door to my lab is just ahead, but wait a moment for me.  There are protections to... keep out unwanted guests."

The voice guides you to a heavy wooden door on the far side of the attic, near the front of the house.  Someone has carved a large skull into this door.  Hanging from the doorknob is a wooden sign that reads “ALL IS NOT WELL!”

"Stay back," the voice warns.  You watch as a tiny magical symbol, once hidden in the forehead of the skull, briefly glows blue.  Then the handle rattles and the door slowly swings open, revealing a dimly lit room beyond.  The voice, now with a hint of satisfaction or pride, says, "Come in.  We’ll be safe here for the moment.  Don't touch anything."

As you step into the room, you find yourselves in a strange, cluttered laboratory.  Someone has taken old, mismatched furniture and created a study is this dusty, lamplit chamber.  Tables are strewn with pieces of parchment, on which strange diagrams are drawn, and a freestanding bookshelf holds a collection of bones.  A dusty rug covers the floor in front of a pine box, on which lounges a skeletal cat.  Several more skeletal cats skulk about, moving to a place near the door and purring loudly.  Most unnerving of all is the sight of three small children standing with their backs to you in the northeast corner of the room, their clothing burned and tattered in places.  The space feels strangely oppressive.

As the last of your group enters, the young man allows himself to become visible, his form shimmering into existence in the doorway.  He closes the door behind him, and then places his thumb on the doorhandle and holds it there for a moment, then he turns.  

Though there was really no doubt by now, the figure is revealed to be the same young man seen earlier at the festival.

"My name is Victor Vallakovich.  This is my sanctum, private study, and laboratory."  He moves further into the lab, a slight unease in his movements now, and begins to shuffle through some notes on a cluttered table, as if to distract himself from the lingering tension. 

"We can ride out whatever is happening out there in safety.  Now, let’s focus on why you’re here and what it is we can do for each other.  The night is only growing darker, after all."

Burr notes the skeletal cats and raises an eyebrow slightly....he's seen stranger since coming to this hellhole....but then he sees the children and moves towards the corner to check on them, " Are you alright?', he whispers.

Attempting to settle into the space with the skeletal cats, random children and the odd things in the space, Zefla replies, "Why we are here?  Well.. we don't want to be, not that that is of any consequence.  I guess we are trying to find our way home and everything we have run into, it seems we have to go through our situation versus around.  Which, as my friend mentioned, probably ends up with us facing some pretty bad people here.  But it's better than staying here and 'All is Well'" She says that last part sarcastically.

"As for what we can do for each other?  I am all ears.  Obviously, we are new here and can use your knowledge of the area and apparently your skills which are quite impressive.  And I am assuming what you want is to get out of here?  If we can help with that, we will.  As for the immediate future, do you have anything in mind?"

Burr, as you reach out to the children, there is a quiet snicker from Victor.  Looking more closely, you realize that these are not children at all.  Rather, they are lifelike wooden dolls, roughly the size of human toddlers.  Underneath the clothing, they have articulated joints and are apparently built to stand upright on their own without supports.  "If you get them to answer, you're a better communicator than I," japes the young man from his desk.

Victor listens to Zefla's words, his expression growing more tense and frustrated as she speaks.  Her sarcasm at the mention of "All is Well" doesn’t go unnoticed, and a bitter smile plays at the corner of his lips.  "Yes, All is Well," he echoes with a scornful chuckle.  "A mantra for the hopelessly delusional.  My father clings to it like a lifeline, as if repeating it enough times will make it true.  But you and I both know nothing can ever be 'well' here.  This place is a prison—a cursed, inescapable pit.  And you... you’ve come here without a way out?"

He runs a hand through his hair, the frustration evident.  "So, you’re stuck here just like the rest of us.  Brilliant.  I had hoped you were different—that maybe, just maybe, you held the key to escape.  But it seems I’m back where I started."

Victor paces the room. "And you mean to confront the Devil?  To what possible end?  How does that get you 'home'?"   He keeps talking, as if trying to answer his own question.  "I've heard superstitions that he controls the mists... do you have reason to believe that to be true?  Is your plan to force him to submit and release you?  Or somehow wrest control of the borders away from him?"  He sounds as if he is trying to find a reason to see hope in your designs, but coming up empty.

As he speaks, Ireena moves to one of the two small windows looking down over the front of the house.  She gasps and puts a hand to her mouth as she looks out.  You notice now that the previous sounds of commotion both within and without are less prominent in here, as if this room is heavily insulated.

Victor, meanwhile, gasps all his own.  "Please, do stay back, Miss.  There are wards on those windows as well.  Just keep calm and quiet.  Whatever is going on out there, just... put it out of your mind.  I'm sure it will be over soon."

Giles looks at Victor, listening to his words.  He points to Ireena, saying “We were tasked with keeping her safe, getting her from the Village of Barovia to here.  Apparently the Dark Lord has some significant interest in her for some reason.  Apparently Izek does as well.”  He considers his other words, saying “We are from another land, yes.  Apparently the Vistani are free to travel as they wish, but we are not.  We haven’t made up our plan yet.  Perhaps kill Strahd, or force him to release us to our world… we haven’t come up with it yet.  But clearly in this dark land we need allies… and I think you are one.  Or at the least, our goals are in alignment.  Perhaps we can help each other.”  Giles brings out his coin midway through the conversation and starts to roll it along his knuckles, rolling it around as he talks subconsciously.  

Burr is getting very close to backhanding this little bugger, but instead he joins Ireena in looking out the window.

Perception- 12

Quote from Bartjeebus >>

...At Burr and Soren's professions of solidarity and protection for the group and one another, a loud sigh is heard.  "How noble," the voice remarks dryly.  "All the melodrama… You really think that matters in a place like this?  Dying to protect a friend may sound heroic, but it’s still dying, isn’t it?  A fine sentiment, but let’s see if it gets you anywhere in Barovia."  When Soren asks about purple lights, the voice reacts defensively.  "How should I know what you've seen?  And can you really raise the dead, as you just promised your friend?"

When Zefla asks about the nature of the scream, the voice doesn't immediately answer, and when he finally does, he seems to choose his words carefully.  "It wasn’t human, that much I know.  Something not of this world, or at least not of the living world.  Here in Barovia, that usually means one thing—something terrible."  He lets that hang, avoiding a direct answer.  "Whatever it was, it’s nothing we want to meet.  But we will be safe in my lab."...

Soren looks puzzled.  "It is only Burr that speaks of dying for people.  He is like that.  I knew a wolf once in Neverwinter Wood he reminds me of.  Fatalistic and quiet, yet a fierce fighter.  I think perhaps there was someone dear to him who he wishes he could have saved.  I do not know.  As for me, I only spoke of trying not to let him, or any of us, die.  Silvanus has not granted me the power bring anyone back from death.  Only from the brink."

Yet as he says this, the half-elf is clearly uncomfortable.  First because of the evident presence of undead in the room.  Victor's undead?  Truly, this is a troubled young man, and a necromancer too.  Is it a surprise that he drove Stella, the Wachter daughter to madness?  He thinks only of himself.

And second... "Do you truly care nothing for the townsfolk out there with whatever that unnatural horror is?  It could be slaughtering them right now.  Or are we hoping that it and Izek will battle each other to their demise?  If it is truly our deaths to rush out there, then I will stay here, but it feels... evil."

Quote from Bartjeebus >>

 

...Victor paces the room. "And you mean to confront the Devil?  To what possible end?  How does that get you 'home'?"   He keeps talking, as if trying to answer his own question.  "I've heard superstitions that he controls the mists... do you have reason to believe that to be true?  Is your plan to force him to submit and release you?  Or somehow wrest control of the borders away from him?"  He sounds as if he is trying to find a reason to see hope in your designs, but coming up empty...

Soren shakes his head.  "We are on hostile territory controlled by a powerful pack leader.  More powerful than any I have ever heard of.  We do not think to confront him, no, or at least not now.  Only to oppose him where we can and learn more.  Even for this, we need allies.  We heard of a great mage he defeated, and none of us are ready to march up to his giant stone-den and challenge him as the mage did with a crowd of supporters.  Yet while we may not be mighty heroes or magicians, we have already fought battles in this land against many strange enemies.  Both inside Vallaki and out."

The druid pauses thoughtfully.  "I do not know if Strahd controls the mists, though he may control whatever horrors may come out of of them such as the [Tooltip Not Found]s we encountered as we were drawn from our world into this one through the fog.  But I have heard someone suggest that the darklord himself is trapped by the mists.  Perhaps tortured by his own existence here just as he turns everyone's existence into a torture under him."  Soren thinks back to the late night discussion with Davian Martikov at the Wizard of Wines after the battle at Yester Hill.