[It may feel that way to Burr, but the party hasn't missed lunch, yet. While it is no doubt closer to mid-day than it is to dawn, it is still morning. Roughly 3 - 3.5 hours have passed since you were woken by Urwin's knock and Soren's screams.]
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 nods, still staring at the mists for a long moment, feeling a sense of foreboding. Then finally, he trots tiredly after the rest.
"I am hoping that your father will speak to us, Arabelle. The Vistani who showed us hospitality by Tser Pool seemed to value family and hospitality. He sounds a man worth meeting if he encourages his young the independence and self-reliance that you show. Is he the leader of your pack?"
Zefla isn't sure how she feels about the girls response. She supposes it is good that the people they are heading to see are not responsible for desecrating the graves, but then who is? And what does it mean? She shudders.
She rolls her eyes as Burr mentions food, but doesn't say anything, the fact that this girl was leading them down this eerie path was starting to worry her. What if they were walking into a trap? What if the man that was trying to drown her was actually the victim? She shakes her head, that doesn't sound right. But she whispers to Giles, "Does this seem right to you? Something is off."
Altered Giles says to Zefla, quietly, “I have a bad feeling as well. Be on your guard. I don’t think this is where we should go, we should’ve let her go on her own and continued tracking the wolves….” He remains vigilant, wound tight as a spring, but trying to appear nonchalant as he walks along in the back. There seems to be no changing of Burr’s mind and he cannot imaging leaving the man alone on what he considers a dead end. He’s led them on some fool’s errands of his own, he recalls. (they followed me into the night in a thunderstorm, I can follow along if Burr has a hunch…)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"You could say my father is the leader," she says to Soren. "He and my uncle, Arrigal, are the eldest. My father looks after the camp, while my uncle leads the wagons when they depart."
Following Arabelle, you continue down the path which gradually turns to the southwest. After just a few more minutes, the woods part to reveal an expansive clearing: a small, grass-covered hill with low houses built into its sides. Fog obscures the details, but you can see that these buildings feature elegantly carved woodwork and have decorative lanterns hanging from their sculpted eaves. Atop the hill, above the fog, is a ring of barrel-topped wagons that surround a large tent with a column of smoke pouring out through a hole in the top. The tent is brightly lit from within. Even at this distance, you can smell the odors of campfire and horses that emanate from this central area.
Soren:
Soren would notice this, though the others may not. The hill doesn't look natural. It is too perfectly sculpted, rising up from otherwise level ground.
It is certainly nothing recent. It is covered with undisturbed grasses and the homes set into its base look centuries old. Yet you are confident that at some point in the ancient past, someone built this hill... for purposes unknown.
As you approach the base of the hill, you see three figures standing where the path up the hill meets the walkway to one of the homes. Bathed in the warm light of hanging lanterns, the three sullen, gray-cloaked figures, notice your group. As they turn to look toward you, their angular features and black, flowing hair half-hidden under their cowls become more visible, as does their dusky, olive skin and pointed ears. You see in their faces a vague likeness to that of the man you saw on the back Strahd's black carriage yesterday morning; the darklord's seneschal, Rahadin.
They appear wary but not alarmed as you draw near, but when they recognize the girl with you, they exchange a look between themselves and begin walking forward to meet you. "Arabelle... is that you, child?" one of them asks. "Your father has been turning the land upside down, looking for you." He turns his eyes from the girl to the four of you, taking in your features and dress, and seemingly recognizing that you are not from around here.
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
Burr frowned slightly, he had not expected a permanent settlement....though there were wagons....perhaps just some of the inhabitants lived here throughout.
" Yes, go find your father, Lass."
" I'm going to rest my feet."
He sat heavily leaning back against the hill.
" Not a bad spot. Perhaps they know where these wolves are?"
Soren follows Arabelle, though he keeps a respectful distance once her father appears so that the two can be reunited in privacy.
The half-elf does pause at the appearance of the olive-skinned, dark haired elves, addressing them (in Common, if the elves had been speaking Common).
"I am Soren Thornpaw, of Neverwinter Wood. We came upon this youngling and extricated her from danger, grave but strange. After returning her, I had hoped to speak with her father... and perhaps now with you as well. Forgive my staring - your appearance is rare, though not unheard of, among elves of my homeland. Perhaps there were one or two among my mother's wood elven clan who bore a resemblance. Yet I admit, what startles me most is your likeness to another we have seen since our inadvertent entry into this land. Rahadin, leading the darklord's carriage. Is he one of yours?"
The apprehension in Soren's voice at the mention of Rahadin would be plain. As usual, he has not properly thought through whether his question is rude.
All of you, Soren included, notice the three elves stiffen at the name of Rahadin. One of them makes a hand gesture similar to the evil eye, a superstitious gesture to ward off curses.
"The blood traitor," another says, and spits on the ground. "Speak not that name to us, Soren Thornpaw of Neverwinter Wood." They step back, returning to their post outside the little house. They don't make any effort to stop any of you from venturing up the hill.
Arabelle starts up that way [with Soren, at least, following].
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
Giles notes the interaction but keeps his mouth shut, watching, sensing no overt hostility but feels that they should be very careful here. He darts a look at Soren, but observes if Zefla and Burr are continuing up the hill as well. “We can wait or… are we going up?” He looks to each of you to see if we should continue on this path or just walk away now that she has arrived…
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Zefla is shocked when Soren just drops the name of Rahadin, but is glad to see the reaction from the three elves. That was one way to determine that at least they weren't in league with the man, cause if they were, she doubted they were leaving this place peacefully.
Zelfa stares at the place, the symmetry of it all is a bit off putting to her. As Giles asks if they are waiting or joining, she shrugs, "Well, we shouldn't leave Soren.. he's probably in over his head and doesn't even realize it." She begrudgingly follows, glad at least its still morning.
Burrtakes the opportunity to lean against the bottom of the hill and rest his tired legs. The three elves pay you little attention, huddling together and looking off towards the woods, their voices too low for you to hear. You see there is another elf standing guard outside the next nearest house you can see around the side of the hill. They look like quaint little cottages, these homes, with their carved wooden eves and round windows. They look out of place in this grim land, like something out of a fairy tale.
Arabelle hurries up the curved path the rises around the side of the hill, with Sorenbehind her and Gilesand Zeflachasing behing him.
Cresting the hill, the three of you come upon a ring of 12 Vistani wagons. Rounded like barrels, the wagons are dark and silent. Piled outside the wagons are several empty casks of wine. In the center of the hilltop is a large tent, 40' across. The hilltop is covered with steaming piles of horse dung. More than two dozen horses are tethered to stone blocks inside the circle of wagons but outside the tent. Most of the animals are draft horses, but a few of them are riding horses equipped with saddles. There is no one outside, but raised voices are audible from inside the tent.
Not hesitating, Arabelle makes right for the tent's opening. From inside the tent comes the crack of a whip followed by the howls of a young man. Three sputtering campfires fill the tent with smoke, and through the haze you see six Vistani passed out in various places on the dead grass. A barely conscious and shirtless teenager hugs the central tent pole, his wrists bound with rope, his clothes torn and his back carved up, streaked with blood. An older, larger man in studded leather armor lashes the young man with a horsewhip, causing him to scream again. The young man mutters something unintelligible, and the older man with the whip snarls. "What's that? Have you remembered where my daughter is, Alexei? What do you have to say to me, boy!?"
"Father!" Arabelle says. The tone is admonishing.
The older man freezes, then drops the whip. He stares at the girl, his bloodshot eyes betraying lack of sleep and ample amounts of wine. "Arabelle." He says it as though his mouth doesn't believe the word. The he runs toward her and wraps her up in his arms. She is tall for her age (maybe... you still aren't entirely clear how old this girl is) but he lifts her up as though she is weightless, spinning about the tent. "Oh my girl.... Oh." There are tears welling up in his eyes. "Never do that to me. Never do that again."
She looks at him. "Father, why are you abusing this poor man?"
He continues to spin, answering her plainly as though she were asking about the weather. "Alexei was on watch the morning you vanished, child." He sets her down and looks her over, brushing the hair from her face as though inspecting a gemstone for impurities. "He lost you."
The young man tied to the pole mumbles something. Despite his condition, it almost sounds cheerful, as though he is aware of the reprieve granted to him.
Arabelle's father straightens slightly, his voice becoming firmer. "What happened? Where have you been? Most of the camp is out looking for you... Hells, we roused the elves and put them to work combing the forests. I even sent your uncle to treat with that old witch, Eva... to see if she would cast her bones and look for you in that crystal ball of hers."
She immediately recounts her tale. She had walked a short distance from the camp, when a strange, quiet man abducted her, bound and blindfolded her, and stole her away. He kept her in silence for two days, then took her to the lake this morning. "Apparently, he planned to drown me. He would have succeeded, were it not for the fortuitous intervention of these folk here," she says gesturing to Soren, Gilesand Zefla. The man turns and regards you all for the first time, something like surprise on his face, as though he was genuinely unaware of your presence until that moment. "Thanks to them, I am here, and my tormentor rests in a watery grave of his own making."
Arabelle's father asks her a few more questions, picking her back up in a hug before setting her down again, near the fires. Then he turns and squares up against the three of you. Here in the tent, he looms larger than life, more than 6' tall and broad shouldered. He looks at you each in turn, intensely.
"I am Luvosh, master of this camp. You are not known to me," he says at last. "Yet I am in your debt. You saved my little girl, my little morning glory." He grabs a mug and moves to a barrel. "A toast then, strangers..." he says but then shakes the empty barrel, tossing it aside in contempt. He kicks one of the passed out men and shouts for him to fetch more wine, but the sleeping man does little more than roll over. He sets the mug down and turns back to you. His tone changes again, perhaps a symptom of his swirling emotions. It is firmer again, though not menacing. "You are not fromBarovia." He states this as a plain fact. "Who are you, and how came you here? How did you come to her rescue?"
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
Zefla takes in the situation and is wishing like crazy they did not follow this girl home. What good could come from this madman? She watches him kick one of the passed out men and she shudders.
As the man comes over and addresses them, she steps forward, "You are correct, we are not from Barovia. The one you called a witch sent us. I am just glad we reached her in time. My name is Zefla Shadowquick."
Not noticing Zefla's unease, but disturbed himself by Luvosh's treatment of the other Vistani men, Soren steps forward.
"And I am Soren Thornpaw. In truth, Madame Eva did not exactly foretell that we would rescue your youngling. Yet it was her words that had us exploring near Lake Zarovich when Nettle here," (Soren gestures to the owl on his shoulder) "noticed the fisherman, seemingly possessed, and the wriggling sack in his boat that he threw into the waters. Our companion Burr who remains now at the bottom of this hill was the one that pulled the sack from the depths while the rest of us helped him and attempted to detain the fisherman, who began to row away with a mad zeal. We did not intend to slay him, but once he fell in the water, some strange animated force pulled him under as it almost pulled down your daughter. Perhaps it was whatever bewitched that fisherman - he was not himself. Something is wrong with that lake. In his boat, there were charcoal sketches of unclothed elven females underwater. Might you know the significance of that? Do their spirits haunt the lake?"
Suppressing a shudder at the thought of finishing the apparently empty barrel of wine that Luvosh kicks, and how his head would feel afterwards, Soren plows ahead. "Once freed, some of us were impressed with Arabelle's spirit and when she mentioned her father, we wished to meet you. The Vistani at Tser Pool shared their fires and lore with us, and I was hoping you might do the same. We have heard of a den of wolves overlooking a mountain lake. Is there one such north of Lake Zarovich, or perhaps some other lake up in the mountains? Or might the elves who help scout for you know?"
"In addition, speaking of witches and abducted young, I in particular have earned the enmity of one who resides in the great windmill to the east. Morgantha, I believe her name is and she appears to sell bewitched pastries in exchange for the children of villagers. Do you know of her?"
He pauses, then adds on a whim, "Finally, I have been told there are druids in the valley, twisted and tormented. Can you tell me of them?"
Giles just stands there and nods, merely inputting “I helped as well. It was close. Burr was able to dive in and grab her before she sank too deep, we helped to pull her up into the boat. Something under those waves bewitched the man who captured your daughter, and claimed his life instead. Like Soren, I was impressed with your daughter’s bravery and we felt duty bound to see her home safe.” He gives a modest bow, looks back at the man and smiles, awaiting the answer to Soren’s questions.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Burr relaxed and took in the somewhat idyllic scene....it was nice here, it was still Barovia...but not bad....he could hear his companions voices drifting down from uphill, they'd wake him if he was needed.
The tall Vistana looked back and forth from Sorento Giles. The tale and the questions seem to be more than he can keep up with.
"...Wolves?..."
"...Witches?..."
"..." He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts. Then he turns to his daughter. "Arabelle. These men and this woman... they rescued you. Saved you from a man who... who planned to harm you. Yes?"
She nods in the affirmative. "Yes, father. That is how it happened."
He sighs, the euphoria and excitement seeming to drain out of him. "Then I am in their debt. And I have never let it be said that I am a man who leaves his debts unpaid. But... I need Arrigal here for that. So, for the moment, I must repay you with only our hospitality. I seem unable to find any wine, and these wine-drowned goons are no help. We do have hot mutton, though," he says, gesturing toward one of the cooking fires. "Please, help yourself." He looks back toward his daughter. "And you, child. Go and see who you can rouse from the wagons. Then go to your room until we can speak later." Arabelle nods curtly and departs the tent.
As you consider the offer of meal, he turns his mind back to your comments and questions. "Eva. Hmmn." He strokes his black beard thoughtfully. "It is no surprise she had a hand in this. It is why I sent my brother to appeal to her in the first place. Do you know Arabelle descends from the old witch, on her mother's side?" He waves a hand at himself in rebuke. "Of course not. How could you know. You are strangers here...". There is something ominous about the way he says that, but his posture and demeanor otherwise remains cordial.
"The lake... drawings of elves..." he says with a frown and a long pause. "I think it more likely you saved my daughter from a madman. It is far from unheard of. This valley... it is not kind to the weak-willed or the foolish. Mayhaps the man dreamed water elves would deliver him from his torment here. It would not be the strangest fantasy Barovians are possessed with. No, I am sure he was just a lunatic."
He shakes his head. "These lands are full of wolves. And I seldom leave the camp for any extended time. If it is someplace of reknown, then my brother Arrigal likely knows of it. Why on Oerth would you seek such a place? What did Eva's flock put into your heads?"
He crosses his arms and laughs darkly. "So you have met Morgantha and her daughters, then? Yes, they sell ensorcelled treats to the desperate men and women of this land. Cookies and pies that make you dream of clear skies and good fortunes. Heh. Foul witches. When I speak of Eva as a witch, it is a colorful term of endearment. Those three, however... it had crossed my mind they could have had something to do with Arabelle's disappearance. But no. They are powerful, but they would not cross us. It would be the end of them." He looks at Sorencarefully. "Just what have you done to win their anger?"
He shrugs at mention of druids. "I have heard of them. One more reason to keep to the roads. From what I hear, they stay to the deep, wild woods, worshipping a land that does not love them back. Perhaps that is why they are so mad?"
He goes to the fire, drawing his own dagger and slicing off a bit of mutton. He juggles the sizzling meat until it is cool enough to handle and takes a bit. Chewing, he asks casually, "How long have you been in Barovia? What do you think of our little slice of heaven? And have you met the land's master, yet?"
[Anyone so inclined can make an Insight check against Lugosh... DC 18]
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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
Giles squeezes his coin tight in his hand as he considers the words of the man, listening to the inflection in his voice, listening for a ruse. He doesn’t detect any, he merely hears gratitude for saving his daughter. (Insight 14)
“How long? It is hard to say. Around a week or so? We have not met the land’s master, if you mean the one in that high castle on the hill. I find the land to be somewhat dreary, gray all the time, but that’s just my two copper’s worth. If I could flip the question around, ask of you, what do you think of it? How long have you been here, on this encampment, and how do you like living here? I’m always open to new thoughts and opinions..” His eyes glint and he rolls the coin over his knuckles, back and forth. No Father Giles here. At. All. The eyes and smile of a gambler, the hands and fingers of one who is used to rolling a coin, or a chip, back and forth in his hands.
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
He subsides, answering only about Morgantha, and letting Giles (or Zefla) respond to the rest, though he almost interjects when the not-Father estimates how long they had been in this land. A week or so? No, it has only been three nights, this is the fourth sun-up... but he decides to stay his tongue.
On "foul witches" at the windmill, Soren muses for a moment. So there are three of them, Morgantha and her two daughters?
"We earned Morgantha's enmity by freeing a child she had bought from the parents in exchange for pastries and was hiding inside her cart. What the witch was planning with the girl, I know not. Morgantha became enraged and attacked us, on the verge of casting powerful magic, but then looked up at the sky and seemed to think better of it, vanishing instead. Now she seems to have cursed my sleep with nightmares that allow me no rest."
After a pause, it occurs to Soren that Luvosh has now mentioned the lack of wine multiple times. And all the empty wine casks here... Something tickles his memory. "At the Blue Water Inn within Vallaki, there seemed to be some question of whether the wine might run dry, though the Innkeeper there seemed to imply he expected to have more soon enough. Is there a shortage of wine in the land?"
" Excellent, hopefully they have food...we might have missed lunchtime with all this tramping about."
[It may feel that way to Burr, but the party hasn't missed lunch, yet. While it is no doubt closer to mid-day than it is to dawn, it is still morning. Roughly 3 - 3.5 hours have passed since you were woken by Urwin's knock and Soren's screams.]
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
( Well...we missed a proper breakfast then, and brunch...no wonder the poor mans starving. :D )
Soren nods, still staring at the mists for a long moment, feeling a sense of foreboding. Then finally, he trots tiredly after the rest.
"I am hoping that your father will speak to us, Arabelle. The Vistani who showed us hospitality by Tser Pool seemed to value family and hospitality. He sounds a man worth meeting if he encourages his young the independence and self-reliance that you show. Is he the leader of your pack?"
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 isn't sure how she feels about the girls response. She supposes it is good that the people they are heading to see are not responsible for desecrating the graves, but then who is? And what does it mean? She shudders.
She rolls her eyes as Burr mentions food, but doesn't say anything, the fact that this girl was leading them down this eerie path was starting to worry her. What if they were walking into a trap? What if the man that was trying to drown her was actually the victim? She shakes her head, that doesn't sound right. But she whispers to Giles, "Does this seem right to you? Something is off."
Altered Giles says to Zefla, quietly, “I have a bad feeling as well. Be on your guard. I don’t think this is where we should go, we should’ve let her go on her own and continued tracking the wolves….” He remains vigilant, wound tight as a spring, but trying to appear nonchalant as he walks along in the back. There seems to be no changing of Burr’s mind and he cannot imaging leaving the man alone on what he considers a dead end. He’s led them on some fool’s errands of his own, he recalls. (they followed me into the night in a thunderstorm, I can follow along if Burr has a hunch…)
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"You could say my father is the leader," she says to Soren. "He and my uncle, Arrigal, are the eldest. My father looks after the camp, while my uncle leads the wagons when they depart."
Following Arabelle, you continue down the path which gradually turns to the southwest. After just a few more minutes, the woods part to reveal an expansive clearing: a small, grass-covered hill with low houses built into its sides. Fog obscures the details, but you can see that these buildings feature elegantly carved woodwork and have decorative lanterns hanging from their sculpted eaves. Atop the hill, above the fog, is a ring of barrel-topped wagons that surround a large tent with a column of smoke pouring out through a hole in the top. The tent is brightly lit from within. Even at this distance, you can smell the odors of campfire and horses that emanate from this central area.
Soren:
Soren would notice this, though the others may not. The hill doesn't look natural. It is too perfectly sculpted, rising up from otherwise level ground.
It is certainly nothing recent. It is covered with undisturbed grasses and the homes set into its base look centuries old. Yet you are confident that at some point in the ancient past, someone built this hill... for purposes unknown.
As you approach the base of the hill, you see three figures standing where the path up the hill meets the walkway to one of the homes. Bathed in the warm light of hanging lanterns, the three sullen, gray-cloaked figures, notice your group. As they turn to look toward you, their angular features and black, flowing hair half-hidden under their cowls become more visible, as does their dusky, olive skin and pointed ears. You see in their faces a vague likeness to that of the man you saw on the back Strahd's black carriage yesterday morning; the darklord's seneschal, Rahadin.
They appear wary but not alarmed as you draw near, but when they recognize the girl with you, they exchange a look between themselves and begin walking forward to meet you. "Arabelle... is that you, child?" one of them asks. "Your father has been turning the land upside down, looking for you." He turns his eyes from the girl to the four of you, taking in your features and dress, and seemingly recognizing that you are not from around here.
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 frowned slightly, he had not expected a permanent settlement....though there were wagons....perhaps just some of the inhabitants lived here throughout.
" Yes, go find your father, Lass."
" I'm going to rest my feet."
He sat heavily leaning back against the hill.
" Not a bad spot. Perhaps they know where these wolves are?"
Soren follows Arabelle, though he keeps a respectful distance once her father appears so that the two can be reunited in privacy.
The half-elf does pause at the appearance of the olive-skinned, dark haired elves, addressing them (in Common, if the elves had been speaking Common).
"I am Soren Thornpaw, of Neverwinter Wood. We came upon this youngling and extricated her from danger, grave but strange. After returning her, I had hoped to speak with her father... and perhaps now with you as well. Forgive my staring - your appearance is rare, though not unheard of, among elves of my homeland. Perhaps there were one or two among my mother's wood elven clan who bore a resemblance. Yet I admit, what startles me most is your likeness to another we have seen since our inadvertent entry into this land. Rahadin, leading the darklord's carriage. Is he one of yours?"
The apprehension in Soren's voice at the mention of Rahadin would be plain. As usual, he has not properly thought through whether his question is rude.
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
All of you, Soren included, notice the three elves stiffen at the name of Rahadin. One of them makes a hand gesture similar to the evil eye, a superstitious gesture to ward off curses.
"The blood traitor," another says, and spits on the ground. "Speak not that name to us, Soren Thornpaw of Neverwinter Wood." They step back, returning to their post outside the little house. They don't make any effort to stop any of you from venturing up the hill.
Arabelle starts up that way [with Soren, at least, following].
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
Giles notes the interaction but keeps his mouth shut, watching, sensing no overt hostility but feels that they should be very careful here. He darts a look at Soren, but observes if Zefla and Burr are continuing up the hill as well. “We can wait or… are we going up?” He looks to each of you to see if we should continue on this path or just walk away now that she has arrived…
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Zefla is shocked when Soren just drops the name of Rahadin, but is glad to see the reaction from the three elves. That was one way to determine that at least they weren't in league with the man, cause if they were, she doubted they were leaving this place peacefully.
Zelfa stares at the place, the symmetry of it all is a bit off putting to her. As Giles asks if they are waiting or joining, she shrugs, "Well, we shouldn't leave Soren.. he's probably in over his head and doesn't even realize it." She begrudgingly follows, glad at least its still morning.
Burr takes the opportunity to lean against the bottom of the hill and rest his tired legs. The three elves pay you little attention, huddling together and looking off towards the woods, their voices too low for you to hear. You see there is another elf standing guard outside the next nearest house you can see around the side of the hill. They look like quaint little cottages, these homes, with their carved wooden eves and round windows. They look out of place in this grim land, like something out of a fairy tale.
Arabelle hurries up the curved path the rises around the side of the hill, with Soren behind her and Giles and Zefla chasing behing him.
Cresting the hill, the three of you come upon a ring of 12 Vistani wagons. Rounded like barrels, the wagons are dark and silent. Piled outside the wagons are several empty casks of wine. In the center of the hilltop is a large tent, 40' across. The hilltop is covered with steaming piles of horse dung. More than two dozen horses are tethered to stone blocks inside the circle of wagons but outside the tent. Most of the animals are draft horses, but a few of them are riding horses equipped with saddles. There is no one outside, but raised voices are audible from inside the tent.
Not hesitating, Arabelle makes right for the tent's opening. From inside the tent comes the crack of a whip followed by the howls of a young man. Three sputtering campfires fill the tent with smoke, and through the haze you see six Vistani passed out in various places on the dead grass. A barely conscious and shirtless teenager hugs the central tent pole, his wrists bound with rope, his clothes torn and his back carved up, streaked with blood. An older, larger man in studded leather armor lashes the young man with a horsewhip, causing him to scream again. The young man mutters something unintelligible, and the older man with the whip snarls. "What's that? Have you remembered where my daughter is, Alexei? What do you have to say to me, boy!?"
"Father!" Arabelle says. The tone is admonishing.
The older man freezes, then drops the whip. He stares at the girl, his bloodshot eyes betraying lack of sleep and ample amounts of wine. "Arabelle." He says it as though his mouth doesn't believe the word. The he runs toward her and wraps her up in his arms. She is tall for her age (maybe... you still aren't entirely clear how old this girl is) but he lifts her up as though she is weightless, spinning about the tent. "Oh my girl.... Oh." There are tears welling up in his eyes. "Never do that to me. Never do that again."
She looks at him. "Father, why are you abusing this poor man?"
He continues to spin, answering her plainly as though she were asking about the weather. "Alexei was on watch the morning you vanished, child." He sets her down and looks her over, brushing the hair from her face as though inspecting a gemstone for impurities. "He lost you."
The young man tied to the pole mumbles something. Despite his condition, it almost sounds cheerful, as though he is aware of the reprieve granted to him.
Arabelle's father straightens slightly, his voice becoming firmer. "What happened? Where have you been? Most of the camp is out looking for you... Hells, we roused the elves and put them to work combing the forests. I even sent your uncle to treat with that old witch, Eva... to see if she would cast her bones and look for you in that crystal ball of hers."
She immediately recounts her tale. She had walked a short distance from the camp, when a strange, quiet man abducted her, bound and blindfolded her, and stole her away. He kept her in silence for two days, then took her to the lake this morning. "Apparently, he planned to drown me. He would have succeeded, were it not for the fortuitous intervention of these folk here," she says gesturing to Soren, Giles and Zefla. The man turns and regards you all for the first time, something like surprise on his face, as though he was genuinely unaware of your presence until that moment. "Thanks to them, I am here, and my tormentor rests in a watery grave of his own making."
Arabelle's father asks her a few more questions, picking her back up in a hug before setting her down again, near the fires. Then he turns and squares up against the three of you. Here in the tent, he looms larger than life, more than 6' tall and broad shouldered. He looks at you each in turn, intensely.
"I am Luvosh, master of this camp. You are not known to me," he says at last. "Yet I am in your debt. You saved my little girl, my little morning glory." He grabs a mug and moves to a barrel. "A toast then, strangers..." he says but then shakes the empty barrel, tossing it aside in contempt. He kicks one of the passed out men and shouts for him to fetch more wine, but the sleeping man does little more than roll over. He sets the mug down and turns back to you. His tone changes again, perhaps a symptom of his swirling emotions. It is firmer again, though not menacing. "You are not from Barovia." He states this as a plain fact. "Who are you, and how came you here? How did you come to her rescue?"
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
Zefla takes in the situation and is wishing like crazy they did not follow this girl home. What good could come from this madman? She watches him kick one of the passed out men and she shudders.
As the man comes over and addresses them, she steps forward, "You are correct, we are not from Barovia. The one you called a witch sent us. I am just glad we reached her in time. My name is Zefla Shadowquick."
Not noticing Zefla's unease, but disturbed himself by Luvosh's treatment of the other Vistani men, Soren steps forward.
"And I am Soren Thornpaw. In truth, Madame Eva did not exactly foretell that we would rescue your youngling. Yet it was her words that had us exploring near Lake Zarovich when Nettle here," (Soren gestures to the owl on his shoulder) "noticed the fisherman, seemingly possessed, and the wriggling sack in his boat that he threw into the waters. Our companion Burr who remains now at the bottom of this hill was the one that pulled the sack from the depths while the rest of us helped him and attempted to detain the fisherman, who began to row away with a mad zeal. We did not intend to slay him, but once he fell in the water, some strange animated force pulled him under as it almost pulled down your daughter. Perhaps it was whatever bewitched that fisherman - he was not himself. Something is wrong with that lake. In his boat, there were charcoal sketches of unclothed elven females underwater. Might you know the significance of that? Do their spirits haunt the lake?"
Suppressing a shudder at the thought of finishing the apparently empty barrel of wine that Luvosh kicks, and how his head would feel afterwards, Soren plows ahead. "Once freed, some of us were impressed with Arabelle's spirit and when she mentioned her father, we wished to meet you. The Vistani at Tser Pool shared their fires and lore with us, and I was hoping you might do the same. We have heard of a den of wolves overlooking a mountain lake. Is there one such north of Lake Zarovich, or perhaps some other lake up in the mountains? Or might the elves who help scout for you know?"
"In addition, speaking of witches and abducted young, I in particular have earned the enmity of one who resides in the great windmill to the east. Morgantha, I believe her name is and she appears to sell bewitched pastries in exchange for the children of villagers. Do you know of her?"
He pauses, then adds on a whim, "Finally, I have been told there are druids in the valley, twisted and tormented. Can you tell me of them?"
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 just stands there and nods, merely inputting “I helped as well. It was close. Burr was able to dive in and grab her before she sank too deep, we helped to pull her up into the boat. Something under those waves bewitched the man who captured your daughter, and claimed his life instead. Like Soren, I was impressed with your daughter’s bravery and we felt duty bound to see her home safe.” He gives a modest bow, looks back at the man and smiles, awaiting the answer to Soren’s questions.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Burr relaxed and took in the somewhat idyllic scene....it was nice here, it was still Barovia...but not bad....he could hear his companions voices drifting down from uphill, they'd wake him if he was needed.
His stomach growled...
The tall Vistana looked back and forth from Soren to Giles. The tale and the questions seem to be more than he can keep up with.
"...Wolves?..."
"...Witches?..."
"..." He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts. Then he turns to his daughter. "Arabelle. These men and this woman... they rescued you. Saved you from a man who... who planned to harm you. Yes?"
She nods in the affirmative. "Yes, father. That is how it happened."
He sighs, the euphoria and excitement seeming to drain out of him. "Then I am in their debt. And I have never let it be said that I am a man who leaves his debts unpaid. But... I need Arrigal here for that. So, for the moment, I must repay you with only our hospitality. I seem unable to find any wine, and these wine-drowned goons are no help. We do have hot mutton, though," he says, gesturing toward one of the cooking fires. "Please, help yourself." He looks back toward his daughter. "And you, child. Go and see who you can rouse from the wagons. Then go to your room until we can speak later." Arabelle nods curtly and departs the tent.
As you consider the offer of meal, he turns his mind back to your comments and questions. "Eva. Hmmn." He strokes his black beard thoughtfully. "It is no surprise she had a hand in this. It is why I sent my brother to appeal to her in the first place. Do you know Arabelle descends from the old witch, on her mother's side?" He waves a hand at himself in rebuke. "Of course not. How could you know. You are strangers here...". There is something ominous about the way he says that, but his posture and demeanor otherwise remains cordial.
"The lake... drawings of elves..." he says with a frown and a long pause. "I think it more likely you saved my daughter from a madman. It is far from unheard of. This valley... it is not kind to the weak-willed or the foolish. Mayhaps the man dreamed water elves would deliver him from his torment here. It would not be the strangest fantasy Barovians are possessed with. No, I am sure he was just a lunatic."
He shakes his head. "These lands are full of wolves. And I seldom leave the camp for any extended time. If it is someplace of reknown, then my brother Arrigal likely knows of it. Why on Oerth would you seek such a place? What did Eva's flock put into your heads?"
He crosses his arms and laughs darkly. "So you have met Morgantha and her daughters, then? Yes, they sell ensorcelled treats to the desperate men and women of this land. Cookies and pies that make you dream of clear skies and good fortunes. Heh. Foul witches. When I speak of Eva as a witch, it is a colorful term of endearment. Those three, however... it had crossed my mind they could have had something to do with Arabelle's disappearance. But no. They are powerful, but they would not cross us. It would be the end of them." He looks at Soren carefully. "Just what have you done to win their anger?"
He shrugs at mention of druids. "I have heard of them. One more reason to keep to the roads. From what I hear, they stay to the deep, wild woods, worshipping a land that does not love them back. Perhaps that is why they are so mad?"
He goes to the fire, drawing his own dagger and slicing off a bit of mutton. He juggles the sizzling meat until it is cool enough to handle and takes a bit. Chewing, he asks casually, "How long have you been in Barovia? What do you think of our little slice of heaven? And have you met the land's master, yet?"
[Anyone so inclined can make an Insight check against Lugosh... DC 18]
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
Giles squeezes his coin tight in his hand as he considers the words of the man, listening to the inflection in his voice, listening for a ruse. He doesn’t detect any, he merely hears gratitude for saving his daughter. (Insight 14)
“How long? It is hard to say. Around a week or so? We have not met the land’s master, if you mean the one in that high castle on the hill. I find the land to be somewhat dreary, gray all the time, but that’s just my two copper’s worth. If I could flip the question around, ask of you, what do you think of it? How long have you been here, on this encampment, and how do you like living here? I’m always open to new thoughts and opinions..” His eyes glint and he rolls the coin over his knuckles, back and forth. No Father Giles here. At. All. The eyes and smile of a gambler, the hands and fingers of one who is used to rolling a coin, or a chip, back and forth in his hands.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Soren listens intently to Luvosh, though his exhaustion tugs at his attention, making it waver. He prays for Silvanus' guidance but it is not enough.
Insight at disadvantage due to exhaustion plus Guidance: 10 + 3 = 13
He subsides, answering only about Morgantha, and letting Giles (or Zefla) respond to the rest, though he almost interjects when the not-Father estimates how long they had been in this land. A week or so? No, it has only been three nights, this is the fourth sun-up... but he decides to stay his tongue.
On "foul witches" at the windmill, Soren muses for a moment. So there are three of them, Morgantha and her two daughters?
"We earned Morgantha's enmity by freeing a child she had bought from the parents in exchange for pastries and was hiding inside her cart. What the witch was planning with the girl, I know not. Morgantha became enraged and attacked us, on the verge of casting powerful magic, but then looked up at the sky and seemed to think better of it, vanishing instead. Now she seems to have cursed my sleep with nightmares that allow me no rest."
After a pause, it occurs to Soren that Luvosh has now mentioned the lack of wine multiple times. And all the empty wine casks here... Something tickles his memory. "At the Blue Water Inn within Vallaki, there seemed to be some question of whether the wine might run dry, though the Innkeeper there seemed to imply he expected to have more soon enough. Is there a shortage of wine in the land?"
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