"Not starting early... drawing to a close," Father Lucian says with a sigh.  "We keep a vigil each night, from midnight until the dawn breaks.  A few of the more devout villagers join me... as well as a few seeking refuge from the darkness.  It is both my pleasure and my duty to offer aid and comfort to these people through the darkest hours."

Giles hands fold together in a temple and he makes the tips move apart and touch each other rhythmically, as Father Lucian is speaking his language.  “Quite so, quite so.  A vigil, against the dark until the Morninglord can watch over you again the coming morn.”  He looks up into the sky, “But the Morninglord never shows his face… why is that?  They ways of this land never cease to amaze me…. And alarm me.  Nonetheless…” he pauses for effect, “All will be well!”  *smile*.   “But good lad Soren here has a tale for you, a tale most alarming, he needs to tell you.   We want to know if you know anything about those witchy ladies who live in the windmill….”  He pauses here and defers to Soren to tell the story.  

Soren, still haggard but more composed than he had been minutes ago, looks long at Father Lucian, respectful but wondering.  He prays to Silvanus for Guidance, not knowing the truth.  Not knowing if the Cathedral is truly warded against evil, not knowing if his assumptions about who or what defiled his dreams and rest are correct, not knowing if the Morninglord still holds any sway here in Barovia, as Giles also seems to wonder.

"Father Lucian."  Briefly, the stray thought of whether Father Lucian is another not-Father like Giles intrudes into his muddled head and Soren almost lets slip a burst of hysterical laughter before steadying himself.  He smiles wanly at Giles, at Zefla, at Burr, attempting to draw courage from their presence as he had from Osk, his spectral Bear spirit.  "Perhaps like your flock, I too seek refuge here in the Morninglord's domain.  I am sorry to disturb you when you need rest, and I would not rouse Ireena if she is resting, but if she has woken, it would be good to greet her, and she might be interested in this tale as she witnessed the precursor to it, as did Saskia, the child."  Soren waits in case Ireena is up and can be summoned quickly.  Either way, he then proceeds.

"On the road between the town of Barovia to Tser Pool two nights ago, the four of us and Ireena encountered a strange old woman with a cart whom we had passed earlier that morning.  She was both more than she seemed.  Morgantha she said her name was, a witch, judging from the magic she began to call down upon us.  She had... kidnapped Saskia?  And was hiding the girl in the cart, though perhaps, rather, she charmed Saskia's parents into... selling the child to her?  I do not know city ways, but I think such is not common custom in our land or yours.  When we moved to free Saskia, a battle ensued, but ended suddenly when Morgantha looked up at the sky in the midst of some seemingly powerful spell, then disappeared without a trace."

Soren leaves out the part where Zefla was busily devouring every pastry within reach.  "It was almost as if she was prepared to slay us, yet feared some greater power.  The darklord, perhaps.  I thought us done with her, but I do not think she is done with us.  Last night was the second worst night of my life, a nightmarish echo of my worst night when fire and ash destroyed my forest home.  A cackling witch stood beside my bed, shadowy, there next to me, yet not.  She... held me down somehow.  I could not move, only relive in agony the nightmare of my worst fears.  All consuming flames and choking ash.  My brethren and pack twisting, screaming, dying.  Behind it all, backlit by the inferno, a great windmill, creaking like the end of the world."

The druid pauses, clearly distraught.  "Indeed, I awoke crazed and exhausted, worse than if I had gotten no rest at all.  The witch left the distinct impression she can do this any night she chooses, and I cannot think of any witch who would know to bear us ill will here in Barovia except Morgantha.  As a druid, I have spoken to the ravens on the roof of the Blue Water Inn.  Intelligent birds and observant, if sometimes a bit judgmental.  They know of the darkness that lies on upon this land.  But to the point, they know of fiendish witches who live in the windmill we saw from the road between Tser Pool and here.  I suspect that is where Morgantha resides, perhaps with others.  Where she takes the children she buys and... makes her pastries."

"My questions for you are these, Father Lucian.  First, I beg your forgiveness for the length of the tale, but do you have any wisdom regarding such witches and fiends who can ravage and poison our dreams?  Second, may I have your permission to take refuge here?  Perhaps for a brief waking rest of an hour for now, but also later tonight, if we are still here in Vallaki?  With the reason being my third question, one which we have asked before.  Do you truly believe the Cathedral has the means to ward against evil beings?  Undead and fiends?  If so, then perhaps my hopes of refuge here are justified."

At Father Giles question about the sun, Father Lucian regards him serenely.  "My friend, I understand your doubts and concerns about the prolonged darkness that has befallen our land.  It's true that the sun's light has not graced us for quite some time.  Its absence can feel as though it worsens the hardships we endure, and deepens the shadow of ... of the Devil's rule.  However, it is precisely during these challenging times that our faith in the Morninglord becomes even more crucial."

"As a man of the cloth, I trust you understand that the higher mysteries can be difficult to unravel.  We must remember that the Morninglord's ways are not always straightforward or easily comprehensible to mortal minds.  Just as the sun's light can be obscured by clouds, our world may be shrouded in darkness to test our resolve and devotion.  This period of darkness could serve as a trial, an opportunity for us to strengthen our faith and prove our commitment to the Morninglord's teachings."

"Furthermore," he continues, "consider that the Morninglord's influence extends beyond the physical realm.  His divine plans could involve matters far more complex than we can grasp. It can be tempting to believe that what we can see and touch is all there is, but is that so?  Perhaps there are spiritual battles being fought, and the return of the sun hinges on more intricate cosmic factors than we're aware of.  Though we may not feel the warm rays of his sun... I have no doubt that the Morninglord is battling the darkness on our behalf even now."

"In times like these, it's essential for us to remember that faith is not solely based on the presence of immediate evidence.  Rather, it's about holding onto hope and trust even in the face of adversity. Our faith isn't solely dependent on the appearance of the sun; it's founded on the teachings, the values, and the sense of purpose that the Morninglord's light represents."

He says this with the rehearsed cadence and timing of one who has given the same speech many times, but he does seem to genuinely believe it.

As Soren is telling his story, Father Lucian listens with concern.  At one point, he flags down a departing worshipper and calls her over, "Ivanka, if you can spare a moment...".

When Soren is done, he looks to the old woman.  "Ivanka, could you repeat what you told me of your friend Jitka?  Of the woman who came between you?"

The old woman looks at the four of you with uncertainty but then nods to the Father.  She tells of her good friend and neighbor, another old woman by the name of Jitka.  They maintained a community garden and 'kept an eye on the neighborhood' together.  But all of this began to change when Jitka took up with a wandering pie merchant.  This seller of pies, Morgantha, was soon all that Jitka wanted to talk about.  She raved about the pies and pastries, to the exclusion of all else.  She burned through all of her meager savings, buying these expenseive treats.  Once, Jitka even brought an apple tart over for Ivanka to try... but as she began to hand it over, she suddenly snatched it back and left in a fury, accusing Ivanka of trying to steal her precious desserts.  Ivanka went no contact with Jitka after that, and no longer sees the other old woman at the garden or around the neighborhood.  Indeed, so far as she knows, her former friend no longer leaves her home, except when word spreads that Morgantha is back in town with her pastry cart....

Father Lucian sends Ivanka away with a small blessing and then turns back to you.  He is silent for a long time, looking out over the grey rooftops of Vallaki at dawn.  When he finally speaks, it is an apology.  "I am sorry.  I confess, I did not take Ivanka's complaints seriously.  Had I known...".  He frowns.  "I can only presume this Morgantha is the very same you speak of.  What I suspected was simply madness or the disintegration of a friendship, is perhaps something much darker."

"Further, I am afraid there is little other information I can offer.  The only witches I am familiar with are those who dwell west of town... but they are simple apothecaries, woodwives and pagan fortune tellers.  Nothing like the malevolent force you describe."  He turns to the open door of the church.  "What I can offer, is sanctuary.  Within the walls of St. Andral's, such a monster holds no power.  Space is limited, as we are also hosting Ireena... but at times like these we must all make sacrifices.  If you have need to rest now, please come inside.  And if you wish to spend the night here, we can make those arrangements as well."

[While this is going on, Zefla please make a CON save.]

Burr takes in both Sorens and the Priests words with a scowl, " I have no issue with cutting down those who abduct children and bewitch others."

" But do we know how many witches we must deal with?  We are not overly blessed in the area of sorcery."

He looked about at his other companions, " No offence meant."

Zefla listens to Soren's story with real concern.  The poor man, and this is what happened to his home?  She doesn't know what to say, but just stands there wondering more about these witches and the windmill.

As Father Lucian goes into his typical spiel about faith needing to be stronger, yada yada, Zefla soon loses interest and starts looking around her, at the people leaving as well as any other people possibly listening in on their conversation.

Her attention is snapped back though at the second half of Father Lucian's story, when the old lady joins in and talks of pastries... Zefla soon finds her mouth watering.

CON save 11

Zefla:

Soren listens stoically to Father Lucian and to Ivanka's story.  "Thank you Father.  Your story saddens my heart, Ivanka.  All the more so because none would believe you.  It is true that Morgantha was eager to press the pastries on us, but attacked us with her magic when we freed the child Saskia from her cart where the witch had hidden her.  I believe her story was that Saskia's parents had sold her.  Though that may have been a lie."

The druid turns to Burr.  "Thank you my friend.  I too want nothing more than to hunt Morgantha down.  Yet I think you are right to wonder how many there are.  The ravens spoke of multiple witches at the windmill.  'murderers and diabolists' they called them, with magic that burns and bites, having slain many birds.  They advised avoiding the windmill, and it may be sound advice until we are stronger or have more allies.  Morgantha herself seemed confident in her ability to defeat us on her own before looking up at the sky.  Fearing the darklord, perhaps because Ireena was with us and..."

But Soren's thoughts have become too muddled, and he trails off, his exhaustion asserting itself.

"I... I must rest.  I am sorry to add to your crowded den, Father Lucian.  I will not be long, this time.  Even just an hour here would do me good, though I may return at night as I said."  He turns to his companions.  "I believe we left Urwin in the lurch.  Perhaps you three should return to the Blue Water Inn and confer with him while I remain here?  Please give him my apology for departing his territory so disrespectfully."  (Soren seems genuinely chagrined).

Burr nodded to Soren, " As you wish."

But hesitated at the door for Giles and Zefla before heading back.

“Right.”  Giles says, nodding to Lucian’s explanation.  “I guess you could view it that way.  This whole land is a test, isn’t it?  A testing of faith.  A crucible of sorts, sorting out the best… and worst… in those who inhabit it.  Perhaps my Lady Tymora is testing me, by allowing us to be here, and the Morninglord is testing you.. in a way of looking at it.”  He grasps Lucian by the arm, looking at him straight in the face.  “Stay strong, brother.  Don’t let them beat you down.  These people need you.”  He crafts his voice in a way to try and truly give the priest resolve… and hope.  Playing the role of absolute-Father Giles, a man of the cloth, he-of-strong-faith…

When Soren urges us to head back to the Blue Water Inn, Giles nods and says “We’ll leave you to it.  Come and find us when you are able.. and feeling better.  There is much to do.”  He nods to Burr and begins to head back if Zefla joins them.

Zefla frowns at the thought that those amazing tasting pastries seemed to have a negative affect on people.  Damn, wouldn't you know it.  She should have guessed, something that good was definitely too good to be true.

Shrugging it off, and not letting the creeping idea that what she had already eaten had affected her, and she nods to her friends, "Yes, let's get back to Urwin."  Turning to Soren, "I hope you get some rest here, you definitely need it.  If you're not back in a couple of hours, we're coming here to find you." 

Soren, face drawn, smiles weakly and nods at his departing companions.

If Father Lucian permits, he follows him into the cathedral.  Feeling sheepish for imposing on the priest who is himself tired from his nightlong vigil, Soren tries to make himself as little trouble as possible, asking only a cool spot to sit quietly and meditate that has a view to the outdoors ideally.

Barring unforeseen circumstances, he takes a short rest.

Vallaki remains still and quiet as Zefla, Burr and Father Giles take the walk back to the Blue Water Inn.  It seems that early risers are few and far between in this jungle of cobblestone streets and pitched rooftops.

As you step back inside the Inn, Urwin Martikov is wiping down tables inside the tavern.  The lights are still unlit and you could have almost missed him, working quietly in the darkness.  Instead, he hails you quietly.  "Close the door behind you."  He sets down the rag he was using and crosses his arms.  "We do not open until lunch, but I don't want anyone creeping by to listen to us."  He takes a few steps over toward the bar and motions for the three of you to join him.

"First - what became of your friend?  I hope there wasn't any public scene.  Tell me he isn't out there, ranting on a street corner."

Back at St. Andral's, Father Lucian gives Soren his pick of the church pews to lie down on.  Then the young priest grabs a broom and begins tidying up inside the cathedral, sweeping down the aisles first and then between each pew, giving Soren a little space by skipping his row.  Through the work, Lucian hums the melody of what sounds like a hymn, though Soren doesn't recognize it.  The tune draws your eyes to the large pipe organ to one side of the church... it looks like it was once beautiful, but time and maintenance have left it in ill-repair.

...

[You may take a short rest.]

...

Sometime later, a handful of children enter.  You recognize Saskia, the child you rescued from Morgantha.  By her side is Yeska, the young boy who assists Father Lucian.  Beside them is an older boy, a teen, tall and broadshouldered for his apparent age.  You think you may recall him working out in the cemetery when you first arrived yesterday.  Two more children, a girl about Saskia and Yeska's age and a toddler of uncertain gender, arrive as well.

When he sees them enter, Father Lucian leans on his broom, looking as tired as you feel, Soren.  "I think we will be starting our lesson late today.  I am quite worn out this morning."  The children groan with disappointment.  He looks up at the older boy.  "Milivoj."  The boy starts as if surprised.  "Please... go and make something up for the little one's in the kitchen.  Perhaps some potato pancakes?  That might cheer up those faces, yes?"  The children's tune does indeed change to one of contentedness as they make their way to the kitchen, Milivoj nodding after a moment and hurrying off behind them.

Soren arises after his rest and humbly thanks Father Lucian.  Despite his exhaustion, he seeks Silvanus' guidance to steady his hand and helps the priest with his chores for a time.  After observing the exchange with the children, Soren waits until they depart before speaking.

"The oldest cub, Milivoj.  Do you think him content here, Father?"  Soren considers the slight pause before Milivoj had nodded and agreed to prepare food for the younger ones.  And also of the youth's awkward exchange with Zefla the previous day.  "In the wild, I have seen sometimes that the young reach an age when they must run free... or chafe and become sullen."

Soren's Insight at disadvantage due to exhaustion plus Guidance:  8 + 4 = 12 (to consider his read on Milivoj).

“No, no, no.  Not out on the street corner.  He’s with Father Lucian currently, wanted his help.  Had some horrible nightmares last night, he woke up exhausted.  I think he ate a bad bit of sausage or something.  But he feels that this old witch that we came upon, Morgantha, cursed him somehow, affected his dreams, his sleep, so that he can’t rest.  Have you ever been just out of town, near that windmill?  Anyway, he’s seeing if Father Lucian can help him with it.  So, where were we, before we had to run out of here after him…. You were going to tell us some things?”  Giles stops there and lets Urwin proceed, urging him to continue what he was going to say.

Father Lucian looks to the kitchen to make sure the young ones are out of ear shot.  "You aren't wrong, I think.  Milivoj is reaching that age now.  He's so much older than the other orphans, and he never took muchto the faith... I fear he sees himself as a young man without a country."  He smiles.  "But he is a good lad.  Not afraid of a hard days work.  I think once he gets a little older, I'll talk to someone at the docks.  I've heard they are short of able fishermen at some of the villages on the far side of the lake.  I think he might like that, and he could make enough to take care of himself, maybe settle down with a family of his own...".

Then he looks more directly at you, Soren.  "I would ask... be careful what you and your friends say around him.  Last year, when that ill-fated crusade against the Devil stirred up, Milivoj was smitten with the idea of joining them, becoming an adventurer.  I put a stop to it, of course, and I'm thankful I did.  He was hardly more than a child then.  Still... I'm not sure those thoughts are behind him.  I'd prefer he not get any ideas about running off and following you lot."  He looks like he may have said something cross.  "I mean no disrespect... only that he is young and his ideas are long on romanticism and short on reality.  I've watched him grow up.  I don't want to see anything happen to him."

Soren:

Urwin Martikov listens to Father Giles, at first relieved to here Soren is busy at the church.  Then his look sours as you mention the witch and the windmill.  

"You best steer clear of that windmill.  I'm not certain what visions were visited upon your friend, but he's more right than wrong.  Those women are trouble and not worth getting yourselves any more tangled up with than you already are."

Changing the subject, he addresses your question, if slowly.  "Yes."  He takes the rag back up and begins polishing the amber bar top, absent-mindedly.  "You were asking about Baron Vargas Vallakovich and his lieutenant last night."  His eye falls on a troublesome spot, leaning in to scrub.  "The Baron comes from a long line of nobility, here in the valley.  His ancestors came with the Devil's kin when they first settled this place.  The Vallakovich's it is said, once came from a station near equal to the Von Zarovichs.  So there is a great deal of... history... on the Baron's shoulders."

He stops scrubbing and looks at you all.  "Vallaki is... a quiet place, amongst the violence and danger of Barovia.  It is not always a happy place, but we are aware it is considerably less dangerous than most anyplace else in this land.  We value that... we are grateful for that.  Some of us... look for reasons why we are so blessed.  Why the Devil has not walked here in our lifetimes."

"The Baron has come to believe it is due to 'positive energy.'  He is convinced that so long as Vallaki maintains a spirit of community, comradery and joy, that the Devil and his minions will hold no power here.  This is the reason for the festivals, for the games, for the prohibition on malicious unhappiness.  He sees it as absolutely critical to our continued survival."

He looks at each of you sternly.  "It may sound ridiculous, to outsiders.  But it is deadly serious.  It is... a madness, I think.  The Baron has had men put in the stocks, beaten, even exiled outside the walls, which for many is a death sentence."

"And his relationship with Izek only makes things worse.  I'm not sure who has the worse influence on the other.  Izek Strazni, captain of the guard, is a devil in the flesh.  A dog, kept on a very long leash.  The Baron will not hesitate to let him run if it suits his purpose or his mood.  Don't give either of them a reason to turn their gaze on you.  Or Vallaki will soon become a place that is not safe for you."

He leans over the bar.  "Well then.  Now that the lecture's over, was there  anything in particular you wanted to know about the town?  I can't claim to know everything, but if I can point you in the right direction, I'll be happy to do so."

Soren listens to Father Lucian carefully, attempting to measure the tired priest's words through his own exhaustion.

"I will be careful what I say around the younglings, all of them, but I cannot promise the same of my companions.  Some of them such as Zefla and Giles can be more brash than I in their own way.  Burr less so, but he speaks his mind.  I will try to plead discretion should they return here.  I myself plan to return here tonight, if you will have me, in the hopes that this holy place can shelter me from the witch's dream-hunting and I can sleep."

He pauses.  "I must leave you so you can rest and so I can return to my companions.  You are a kind man, Father Lucian.  So it pains me to suggest this but..."  Soren takes a deep breath, as if a bear ready to tear out a thorn embedded deep in his paw.  "I fear Milivoj has already been speaking to outsiders or has done something wrong.  Or is considering it.  He is feeling guilt, and fears punishment.  From you, which puzzles me, since you do not seem to rely on punishments when leading your pack.  So I worry that whatever he feels guilt for is serious, like the cave-in of a large den.  I am not a city-dweller, nor a priest of the Morninglord, so I will not tell you how to handle your pack, Father.  But please speak with the cub.  Something is amiss."

(If Father Lucian has nothing more for him, Soren takes his leave of the priest and honors the house of he Morninglord with a brief minute of meditation before making his way slowly back towards the Blue Water Inn, wishing his aches would subside and his head would clear.)

Burr quickly dressed then rejoined the others in conversation.

Zefla listens to Urwin while he goes through the history of why things are the way they are.  It is a bit hard for her to understand as they themselves haven't really known the danger that Urwin is referring to.  "Thank you for laying that out for us, at least we know why things are the way they are... sort of.  Definitely a sort of madness."

She thinks a bit, not exactly sure what to ask the man, "What about the Vistani?(sorry, I can't remember the name of the colorful group) that are camped outside the village?  Why are they not welcome?  Too close to the devil?"  She then looks at Burr before asking her next question.. "I know this might sound strange, but do you know where we can find a den of wolves in the hills overlooking a mountain lake?"

"As for the town, where would you recommend four travelers to go and check out?  So far we've been to the church, interrupted Izek and spent time here."

Giles perks up at Zefla’s comments, “Yes, do you know where such a den of wolves would be located?  Tell us about, is it, Lake Zarovich?  How do you get there, we may wish to go and have a look there…”