Burr did not answer.....his eyes followed the twins haunted but wary........their sister still on his mind and what part Viktor played in that.  And how to deliver the girl from her madness...........also how to oppose the god-like ruler of this damned realm and his frighteningly powerful representatives when the entire town had just been torn asunder and his entire 'pack' torn a new one by two feral dead things and a half-demon.

He looked to Giles, Zefla and Soren with affection. Then to Ireena and Tourmaline, more than capable in their own right, and finally to the mastiff. Viktor was not one of them.....he was a villain as much as any of the dead things that crawled without......well, perhaps not as much but Burr would shed no tears for him if he fell.

Zefla has no words for the two in the carriage.  The invitation surprised her, but not greatly, she wondered what it meant and how her friends felt about it.  Following Urwin into the Inn, she finds herself grateful that they have a place to go, a place that she feels they can trust and honestly feel a bit safer in... even though Strahd and his minions know this is where they stay.

She nods at Urwin's request and steps forward.  Overshadowed by everyone here, she speaks up and her voice echoes in the now almost silent tavern.  "We were trying to free our friends here" she gestures to Tourmaline and Ireena, "who were being guests at the Baron's house.  Yes, we snuck our way in as we knew knocking at the door was not going to be met with anything agreeable.  Once inside and after finding them, we found this one." she then gestures towards Viktor, "who isn't too bad and he hid us away in his attic while we tried to figure out what was going on.  During this time, the occupants of the house in the main floor welcomed in some vampires.  Well... I'm sure you know how that went.  We tried to help any we could, but the most we could do is kill a couple of them, but at one point either, the vampire or Izek killed the Baron - it was hard to tell.  Izek turned on us."

She takes a little breather, trying to figure out a way to describe this.  "Well, not sure what you know about him, but he is obsessed with Ireena and called her is sister, so we were already on edge, then he killed the Baron and turned on us, so well, we defended ourselves.  We killed him once, but he rose again as some sort of firey demon thing and set the house on fire.  It took almost all we had to finish him off, but we were not able to save the house."  she shrugs at this as if it is a minor detail.  "We got Viktor and the few remaining survivors out of the house and came here.  On the way, we can see mobs already forming.. such as, who is Ezra?"  

"I do not know why the two visited us outside the Inn, but it seems we have now been invited to parley with Strahd."  she holds out the letter to Urwin and looks to her friends to see if they want to add anything.

Soren stands behind Zefla, his pace looking pale and grim.  Subconsciously, one of his hands rests gently on the scruff of the mastiff's neck for support.

I know not his name.  Perhaps Root.  For it is the root, quiet and unnoticed, yet strong, which grips strong and refuses to let the tree fall.

"It is as Zefla describes.  Yet there is more.  The Baron's mate, the, ah... Baroness?  She too lies slain by the second Vampire Spawn we destroyed, along with her guests in the Baron's man-den.  All before we could engage the creature.  In addition to the two undead abominations we slew, there was another we sent fleeing, but there are others.  As you witnessed with the two that threatened us, then withdrew at Ludmilla and Rahadin's approach.  They seem to obey or fear them.  Or both.  And the Vampire Spawn, they seem to seek Ireena as well, calling her by a name we do not know.  'Tatyana'."

Soren glances questioningly at Ireena before continuing.  "There was another woman we did not recognize.  She seemed to follow and observe us throughout this evening and calmly watched the Vampire Spawn assail the Baron's manor without any apparent fear, seemingly unthreatened herself amid the carnage.  Seeing this, we sent ranged attacks at her.  My radiant Moonbeam spell seemed to burn her skin just as it does the Vampire Spawn before she transformed into a swarm of bats and vanished.  She may be a vampire herself, perhaps even the darklord in disguise."

Briefly, Soren glances at the Wachter twins at their table, then moves so he is closer to Urwin and lowers his voice.  "We first noticed this female spy just outside the Wachter den.  I know not if she belongs to this Cult of Ezra or is a servant of the darklord or both.  Regarding Lady Wachter herself, if we are speaking hard truths tonight, there is more to tell, best said in private to the Martikovs only.  You, Urwin, and Danika and Adrian if they wish.  Alone."

And then, once we speak the hard truths we must, I have some questions in return for you, Urwin and Danika Martikov, Soren thinks but does not yet say.  About the strange, unspeaking raven-woman who joined us in the battle at Yester Hill.  And later seen at the walls of Vallaki earlier tonight.

Soren:

Urwin listens intently, his expression darkening as the weight of Zefla and Soren’s accounts settles over him.  His hands are braced against the bar, knuckles whitening as he processes the events: the Baron’s death, Izek’s monstrous transformation, the fiery destruction of the manor, the murders in the streets, and the ominous presence of Ludmilla and Rahadin.  The mention of Strahd’s letter and the mystery woman who may be a vampire herself seems to chill him further.

When Zefla pauses and hands him the letter, Urwin takes it with a steady hand but doesn’t open it immediately.  Instead, he lets out a slow, heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing in thought. After Soren’s detailed recounting, including the mention of "Tatyana," Urwin shakes his head, though Ireena seems to disappear further behind her hood.

The room remains hushed as Victor awkwardly clears his throat.  "It is true, I fear.  My father has fallen, leaving the ancient seat of House Vallakovich and the Barony of Vallaki temporarily empty.  Until this matter can be set to rights, this will be a dangerous time.  Our party requires safety and lodging until such time as we have our next move ready."   Urwin barely acknowledges him, giving only a nod and a terse, "Understood, m'lord."  His focus is clearly elsewhere.

Finally, Urwin speaks, his voice low and grave, though it carries an undercurrent of urgency:

“This is worse than I feared.  Vampires—true vampires—don’t come out in force like this unless they have a purpose.  Ludmilla and Rahadin walking the streets openly?  That’s Strahd making a statement.  His shadow has always hung heavy over this town, but tonight, it falls completely.  If Ludmilla and Rahadin are here, it means he’s watching closely.  Very closely.”

Danika comes back down the stairs and stands beside her husband.  He looks at the letter in his hand and shakes his head.  “An invitation to parley with Strahd?  That’s no invitation—it’s a summons.  He’s testing you, seeing how far he can push you.  But it’s not just you he’s playing with. This..." he pauses, then starts again.  "He is reclaiming Vallaki.  These last years of relative quiet are over.  I just wonder, does he plan to punish this town for its defiance of him?  Besides this girl," he says, glancing at Ireena, "What does he want?”

Urwin glances toward the Wachter twins.  The oblivious arrogance in their expressions shifts slightly as they realize they’re being observed. Karl raises a shot of vodka and nods kindly, then tosses it back.  Urwin doesn’t address them directly, but his meaning is clear when he speaks again:

“And now mobs form, people turn on each other, and there is a power vaccuum.   There’s always someone ready to fan the flames when the darklord stirs trouble.  As for this strange woman who turned into bats...” He trails off, then adds grimly, “I don't have enough to say for sure who she might be, but Soren, she’s clearly not just a spy.  She’s undead.  She’s his.”

"One of you mentioned ‘Ezra’?  That’s a new name in town.  Some cult, moved up from the southwest of the valley, where the mists are slowly eating away at Barovia.  Their beliefs have something to do with the mists; that its ok to venture into them and distant lands can be found.  Its hogwash.  I know from experience... there is only choking death to be found in the mists."  Danika places a hand on her husbands shoulder.

He steps away from the bar and paces, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. Then, as if just now registering Tourmaline’s presence, his eyes narrow.  “You... you’re the one from the square this morning, aren’t you?” he asks, his tone sharper than he intends.  When she doesn’t immediately respond, he raises a hand to wave the question away.  “No matter. I won’t press you on it—not now.”

Urwin turns to Danika and Adrian, both of whom have been listening silently. “We need to prepare,” he says, his tone decisive. “Adrian, keep that door locked and your blade ready.  Danika, prepare what supplies you can and ready bags for everyone.  If this spreads, we’ll need to be ready to flee—or fight.”

Finally, he looks back at the party, his expression serious.  “You’ve brought news that can’t leave this room, not yet.  If the town learns the Baron is really dead and that it was vampires—and not just any vampires, but his—there will be panic, worse than what’s already brewing.  We need a plan, and we need it now.  And this... private matter,” he adds, nodding toward Soren, “let’s go upstairs.”

He leads the party up the steps to the second floor, leaving Danika and Adrian in control of the bar.  The two wolf hunters, who had been craning their necks to listen in, look crestfallen to be left downstairs.  As you reach the second floor, Urwin spies a cracked-open door.  "Hey!" he calls harshly.  The door shuts quickly.  He drops to a knee beside it and says, more quietly, "Stay in your room, boys.  Everything will be fine... the grown ups just need to talk."

Ushering everyone into one of the guest rooms - a packed house, with Burr, Zefla, Soren, Giles, Ireena, Tourmaline, Victor, a cat skeleton, and Urwin all crammed inside - he closes the door.  Then he turns to ask with a heavy look in his eye, "So.  What did you wish to tell me?"

Burr isn't really sure what Soren wants to discuss but he's deeply aware that their time in the living world is likely very limited.....and he has no idea how to ensure anyone's safety.....

He remains quiet...his eyes go to Tourmaline, Ireena and Victor though it is only Stella he sees when he looks at the young man; and he still has no idea why the young man curdles his blood so....something....somethings he said.....

Strahd can kill everyone and anyone in this town whenever he wishes......why doesn't he?  Does he enjoy having...pets? Is it a question of ownership.....and if Strahd is not.....as the dead woman outside had implied.....the worst thing in Barovia and a bulwark against such horrors.....is there any real point in opposing him?  If by some miracle he is removed will what replaces him be so much worse.

Burr wants to help these people.....especially those he was sworn, both publicly and privately, to protect.......but it seems there is no hope within the borders of Barovia.

Giles has remained quiet thus far, his coin twirling back and forth on his fingers, up and down at a furious pace.  Finally he catches it and puts it in his pocket.  A grim smile comes over his face and he scratches the stubble on his chin and his other hand grips Burr’s shoulder, giving him a brief smile.  He can see the emotions playing over his face, he looks to meet the look of all gathered in the room, hoping to bring things out in the open and say what hasn’t been said, but must be said… and now.  He lets out a deep sigh.  

“Look, we’re all tired here.  This guy can barely stand, I pulled him out of a fire and gave him healing when he would have passed away.  We do need a short period of time to recover, rest, and plan.  But I’m gonna say what we’re all thinking in this room, but no one has come out and said openly, everyone going around, hinting at things…”

Giles looks up to the ceiling for a moment, saying “Dear Lady, give me the strength, the boldness, the courage for this ask…”. He looks back down and looks straight away at Urwin.  “I think we all know what needs to be done here, but no one has been willing to say it, or contemplate doing it.  Somehow, someway … we need to kill Strahd.  Find a way to end him.  The question is how.  How can this be done?  What weapons do we have to end his rule of this land?  I know there are those who have tried, and failed.  How can we succeed?  Either that, or escape these lands.  And I don’t think that is possible without handling Strahd.  So… everything on the table.  How can we hurt him, kill him?  Can he be killed?  I don’t imagine that individually we could even contemplate such, but together… maybe it could happen.  And finally bring peace and light back to this land.  Or find a way back to our own…”

Zefla feels relief when Urwin believes them without question.  She didn't know what they would have done if he didn't, she knew how they sounded and probably wouldn't have been as open as he is.

As they cram into the bedroom, she looks to Soren to update him on the Watcherhouse family as she assumed that was what he was doing.  As Giles brings up the gorilla in the room, she's surprised, but waits to hear what Urwin has to say.

Urwin leans against the doorframe of the guest room, his expression a mix of exhaustion and deep thought.  Father Giles’s words hang heavily in the air, and for a long moment, the room is silent save for the muffled sounds of the tavern below.  When Urwin finally speaks, his voice is steady but quiet, like a man considering his words carefully.

“You ask the question everyone in Barovia has dared not ask for centuries, Giles.  Can Strahd be killed?  Should he be killed? And if so, how?  These are dangerous questions, but they’re not new.”

He crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on the group, as though trying to measure their resolve.  “The truth is, I don’t know how to kill him.  But I believe it’s possible.  Strahd might be a monster, but he’s not a god.  He’s been challenged before, though the stories don’t always end well for those who tried.”

Urwin gestures toward the group as he begins to pace slowly.  “The first story I can think of happened just ast year.  A powerful wizard arrived here, like you—someone from beyond the mists.  He rallied an army, the desperate and the brave, and marched on Castle Ravenloft itself.  The Vistani tell of the battle that followed.  They say the sky turned black with storms, the earth cracked open, and Strahd’s forces annihilated the wizard’s peasant army.  They were slaughtered to the last... except for the wizard.”

Urwin’s tone hardens, his pacing stopping as he turns to look at Giles.  “The wizard fought Strahd one-on-one.  They say it was a battle that shook the heavens.  The wizard wounded him, and for a moment, some thought the unthinkable might happen.  But Strahd was too strong.  He threw the wizard from the cliffs of Tser Falls to his doom.  But... from the sound of it, he pushed the Devil to the limit before he failed.”

He pauses, then continues.  “Then there’s the story of St. Markovia.  She was a priestess of St. Andral long ago, back when this land was just beginning to fall under the mists.  When she learned of what Strahd had become, she gathered her faith, her followers, and marched straight to Castle Ravenloft.  They say Strahd met her in single combat in his throne room.”

Urwin looks at Giles, then the others, his voice heavy with implication.  “Strahd won that fight.  She was never seen again.  But for years afterward, Strahd walked with a cane.  Some claim he never fully recovered, though I don’t know how much truth there is in that.  The priests like to say it’s proof she struck him with divine judgment.  Others... well, others think it’s just a story meant to give us hope.”

Victor crosses his arms with a look of doubt on his face.  Urwin’s gaze moves to Victor, nodding slightly in acknowledgment of the young man’s inevitable interjection.

“It may be hard to believe,” Urwin says. “But I’ve also heard that some things are harder for them to recover from.  Holy power.  Perhaps something bound to the Morninglord’s light. If there’s even a shred of truth in the St. Markovia tale, it’s worth considering.”

He stops pacing, fixing the party with a hard look.  “If you want to kill him, you’ll need to do more than just strike him down.  You’ll need to find what keeps him bound to this land—his anchor, his weakness.  And you’ll need more than brute strength.  Magic, faith, artifacts... something more powerful than what you have now.  Without that, you’ll just be another name in a long line of the fallen.”

When Urwin finishes, Victor clears his throat, his expression as much irritation as skepticism.  “The story about St. Markovia doesn’t make sense,” he begins. “Our library had a book on the undead.  If vampires aren’t destroyed outright, they heal completely.  I don’t care how strong this saint's faith was; Strahd walking with a limp for years after?  That’s religious fantasy, not fact.”  He crosses his arms, looking at Urwin and the party with a mix of defiance and frustration.  “If we’re going to take this seriously, we can’t rely on half-true stories and legends.  We need science.  Strategies.  Something solid to work with.  Otherwise, we’re just grasping at smoke.”

Urwin’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting back to the group. “So,” he says finally, “you’ve heard the stories.  You know what little I know.  Does it help?”

Soren listens grimly to Giles and then to Urwin and the others.  In truth, this was not why he had asked the group upstairs at first, but...

"I know not whether the stories help, Urwin.  Perhaps they do.  I focus on the pack.  When the cold winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack may survive.  We must grow our pack.  Strengthen it.  We need more than just one rebel mage, however great his arcane magic.  More than just one righteous priestess such as Saint Markovia, however great her faith or divine power.  We need stronger allies than peasants, though we should not scorn peasants or other folk who would aid us in this land.  And likely we need artifacts too, which we have been given clues about..."

Shaking himself out of his digression like a dog, and keeping one hand on the warm hackles of Root (the mastiff), Soren continues.

"And since those within a pack should be truthful to one another, let me speak now of Lady Wachter.  As you may have heard, she is no more.  Yet you should also know that we were the ones who slew her.  I do not think Zefla or Giles wished to.  And while Burr may have struck the killing blow, it was I who instigated it and fought both Wachter and her strange invisible flying pet with its stinging tail.  Her corpse lies now in her own basement."

"She invited us to dinner to task us with slaying Izek and freeing Ireena on Strahd's behalf.  Acts we ended up doing anyway, as it turns out, though not at her behest.  As part of Strahd's vengeance, she also threatened Vallaki with terrible atrocities.  Some of which we may have seen tonight.  With the previous night's attack of the Vampire Spawn on Saint Andral's Cathedral and Father Lucien's murder fresh in my mind, and Wachter declaring her unwavering devotion to a vengeful Strahd, I viewed her as an enemy we could and should put down.  She denied responsibility for Saint Andral's, as did Ludmilla just now, yet I do not believe them.  They may not be directly responsible but their master surely is or it would not have happened at all."

"Later, searching her house after Giles pacified her servants, we found a devil-worshipping circle in her secret basement, though I cannot say it is justification for slaying her since I did not know it before.  We also found a locked chest which, when unlocked, revealed a broken and emaciated body with a strange rod impaled through it.  The rod matched the description we were given of an artifact by a powerful diviner who once spoke to us."

Soren recites from Madame Eva without naming her:  'There is another item... its nature is hidden from us; it can help you, but how?  Look for a wealthy woman. A staunch ally of the devil, she keeps the treasure under lock and key, with the remainder of an ancient enemy.'

He then pulls from his pack the macabre rod made of wood, iron and tipped with white stone skull and holds it up for everyone to see.

"I am uneasy to recount now that I removed the rod, pulling it out from the once-impaled corpse within the chest.  The creature immediately straightened and repaired itself, re-animating into what can only be a vampire, who then ripped out the throat of Lady Wachter's ally and spy who had surrendered to us after we slew her.  The undead creature left us, departing through a window.  I do not believe it was one of the Vampire Spawn whose attacks we have battled tonight.  Yet perhaps this rod can hold a vampire it impales, given the right circumstance?"

Putting the rod away, Soren continues:  "Nevertheless, we yet lack what we need to battle Strahd.  Not even close.  Not all the allies we need, nor all the right artifacts."  Soren glances briefly at Viktor, remembering that another of Madame Eva's clues referred to him as a key ally.

"And now I have recounted the truths that I asked you upstairs to hear.  If you judge us for Lady Wachter's death, judge me first, not Burr who simply followed my lead as a pack-mate and is still disturbed by the killing, I think.  Yet now, I ask that others among us speak truths that may help us find a way forward.  At the moment, Strahd does not attack us four outsiders directly, perhaps seeking to use or test us instead as you say, Danika."

Soren turns finally to Ireena, his expression imploring.

"Yet he also clearly treasures you, my Lady Kolyana.  He wanted us to free you.  Why?  What hold or claim does he have over you?  I know you disavowed Izek who called you sister.  Why did the Vampire Spawn seek you, naming you 'Tatyana'?  Why did Ludmilla Vilisevic, who my owl companion Nettle identified as being undead herself from her lack of breathing or pulse, also call you a sister?  We are your friends.  We are not the mob of your home townfolk who slew your father on the day we met.  We fight for you as you have fought for us.  We are your pack.  Talk to us."

Burr moved closer to Ireena as Soren questioned her, she had claimed no knowledge of the god-things interest in her previously and he still believed her.....but then he had a hard enough time interpreting the ways of mortals.....let alone undying tyrants.

" I am ready to die facing this Strahd.....it is as good a way to die as any and certainly not the worst we've seen in this fell place."

" I will only note that we have had both enemies and servants of Strahd speak of Things that he holds at bay by his presence........so whilst I have no qualms about overthrowing the ruler of this mist choked land ( though little belief that we have the means to do so)......I would rather not deliver its people into a worse fate......who would know the truth of such things?"

" Less important in the grand scheme of things but important to myself is the fate of Stella Wachter for which I hold Victor accountable.   Her mind is far afield in feline guise........but I know of none who might restore her to sanity....if restored perhaps she might be someone the town could build up on....she, like her brothers, certainly seems to be unknowing of her Mothers  crimes."

" In truth a council of equals would better serve Vallakis needs but that takes time the town does not have."

Burr grew silent again his lip curled in annoyance.

Giles looks to Urwin and says, "I believe that it helps, yes.  Everyone in this room may have some piece of knowledge that the others don't know.  Tools, artifacts, and weapons that could be used against the dark lord.  Like Burr, I don't think we would stand a chance right now.  But perhaps we could find allies and weapons that would allow us to be victorious.  Do you know of anyone who could help?  And please, anyone standing here... if you have knowledge of something useful, please, spit it out, perhaps it will make sense to one or more of us."  Giles looks at Urwin, saying, "Do you know of any other allies to our cause?"

Zefla appreciates the candidness of everyone as they speak their peace and talk through what they can.  She doesn't have much to add, but when she finally does it comes tumbling out all disjointed, "We need time to find more artifacts and gather more people to the cause.  Something must be done.  But what happens to this town in the meantime as we try and accomplish this?  I'm afraid it will implode if we don't have a plan in place?"

She then looks at Urwin, "Any idea where I can get a magic weapon?  These undead resist the attacks I make and can I tell you how infuriating that is?  I just... I hope you know?"  She then looks as though an idea just pops in her mind, "What do you know about the windmill?  We've heard a few random stories.. would we find anything of interest there?  And... if we are to meet with Strahd, how should we be prepared?  I'm assuming we are, so we don't bring more damnation upon this town?"

[Whew!  A lot to respond to here...]

Urwin remains still for a long moment, processing the deluge of information.  He exhales heavily, his expression a mix of emotions, mostly resignation.

“Lady Wachter...” he begins, his voice steady but quiet.  “I won’t pretend to mourn her.  My family has long suspected her allegiance to Strahd, but to hear of her dinner invitation and the demands she placed upon you—that confirms our worst fears.  Her death... it complicates things in Vallaki.  With the Baron gone and now her too, the town risks anarchy.”  He rubs his temples.  “But this was not your doing alone.  Strahd's hand guides all of this.  His games.  His vengeance.  The deaths and suffering that follow him.  It may be he intended you to kill the old woman... to implicate you or to spread discord.  It's not possible to know his designs, yet.”

He eyes the macabre rod warily.

“As for this... artifact you uncovered, I have no idea what to make of it.  Magic is not my realm. But if it held a creature as powerful as a vampire trapped, then it’s dangerous—and hopefully useful.” 

When Soren reveals the rod, Tourmaline’s eyes widen, and she leans forward with a mix of fascination and horror.  “That’s... that’s no simple trinket,” she breathes, her voice trembling slightly.  “If I’m not mistaken, it’s a Wand of Binding. They’re incredibly rare.”  She shakes her head, her gaze flicking to Soren.  “What you described... that was no accident.  The wand's magic is tied to the power of imprisonment itself.  Whatever creature was inside—whatever vampire—it was likely held for a reason.”

Victor stares at the rod, his face pale but his eyes gleaming with keen interest. “I’ve read about these,” he mutters, almost to himself.  He straightens, looking at the wand with a mix of hunger and caution.  “If they wasted an item like this just keeping a dead man still inside a box... its a horrific abuse of resources.  That's like letting an entire crop rot in the fields.  How rich in magic is Strahd, if he can devote an item like this to be locked away... forgotten?”  His tone implies awe as much as fear.

Urwin then leans forward, redirecting the conversation.  “You’re right about allies, Soren.  You need them, and you need them badly.  My family has spent generations quietly opposing Strahd where we can, helping those who would live free of his terror.  We don’t have armies or arcane might, but we have connections, knowledge, and safe havens.  You have my help in that, for what it’s worth.”

His tone grows softer as he continues.  "But we aren't warriors.  We have survived as long as we have by keeping our heads down.  You can count on the Martikovs for support... but we can't take up arms against him."

He sighs, continuing.  “Strahd is unlike anything you’ve faced before.  You won’t beat him with strength of arms alone, no matter how many allies or artifacts you gather, I fear.  The wizard tried, and he failed.  Saint Markovia tried, and she failed.  You’re right to think strategically.  But know this—he’s not just a vampire.  He has some tie to this place, to the land.  Barovia itself bends to his will.  The animals... the weather.   That’s why he plays with you instead of destroying you outright.  He enjoys the game, yes, but he also knows he has all the time in the world.  You must find his weaknesses, not just his foes.”

He falls silent, his gaze shifting to Ireena. “And you, Lady Kolyana... you may hold one of those keys.”

Ireena flinches slightly as all eyes turn toward her.  She meets Soren’s gaze reluctantly, clearly uncomfortable but too proud to shy away completely.  Her voice is quiet and strained when she speaks.

“Strahd...” she begins, hesitating.  “He’s sought me out for years.  At first, I thought it was... admiration.  Flattery, even.  He’s charming, you know, when he wishes to be.  When he turns his intentions to you, its... intoxicating.  But it was more than that.  He would call me Tatyana, sometimes, and he would say strange things.  That I was more than I knew.  That my... my true nature would be revealed in time.”

Her hands clench tightly in her lap, her knuckles white.  She nods in appreciation at Burr's attempt to stand close to her.

“I don’t know what he means by it.  When he was with me, the idea was always mysterious; exhilarating.  But later, in the dark of night, it terrifies me.  He’s not just courting me; he’s... claiming me.  Like I belong to him.  And Ludmilla—she woud sometimes be at his side when he came to visit.  She called me ‘sister,’ yes, but I don’t know why.  I don’t know why any of this is happening.  It's like some kind of dream....”

Her voice cracks, but she presses on.

“In just the last week, I’ve lost my father, my home, and my freedom.  I’ve been hunted, imprisoned, and told I’m something I don’t understand.  I wish I had more answers for you, Soren, but I... I don’t.”

She falls silent, her head bowing slightly.  Then she turns and opens the door, stepping out into the hall.

As Burr speaks next, Urwin listens attentively, nodding at the mention of greater dangers than Strahd.  When Burr pauses, Urwin interjects with a somber tone.  "You’re not wrong to consider the possibility, Burr.  The Martikovs have long pondered the truth behind Strahd’s words.  He claims to hold back worse evils—things that stir in the dark beyond the mists.  But... such claims often serve his own ends.  They keep people fearful and submissive.  Still, one can’t entirely dismiss the possibility.  Truth is a rare thing in Barovia, and even rarer when it comes from Strahd."

However, when Burr brings up Stella Wachter and directs blame toward Victor, the young man’s reaction is swift and heated.  Victor’s face darkens, and his hands ball into fists.  “What do you know of it!?” he snaps, his voice rising.  “Do you think I wanted that to happen?  For Izek to interfere?  Do you think I didn’t try—didn’t care—when things went wrong?”  His voice cracks slightly, betraying emotion beneath his anger.  “Don’t speak of accountability... you're but a stranger to Stella and I. You have no idea what I—what she—has endured.”

Without waiting for a response, Victor turns sharply, storming out of the room.  His footsteps echo loudly as he descends the stairs back to the bar room.

Urwin exhales heavily, rubbing a hand across his face before glancing at the party.  “He’s a troubled boy,” he mutters, his voice tinged with both pity and frustration.  “And that’s a wound that won’t heal easily—if it ever does.  As for Stella Wachter…” He shakes his head.  “I don’t know what might restore her, if anything.  If she’s truly innocent of her mother’s crimes, it’s a tragedy.  But... her brothers…” Urwin hesitates, glancing toward the door Victor exited through.  “I’ve known them as harmless drunkards, but they loved their mother.  If they learn the truth of her death—of your involvement—it could turn ugly.”

He pauses, letting his words settle before continuing in a quieter voice.  “If you’d prefer it, I can see about sending someone to... clean up the scene.  Remove anything that might trace it back to you.  Lady Wachter was a monster, and there could be no scarcity of other suspects.”

When Giles puts out his request for ideas, Urwin nods but looks grim.  "Barovia has a way of breaking even the strongest.  I know of many who hate Strahd, but few with the courage or strength to defy him outright.  Most who resist do so quietly, in ways that won’t draw his wrath down on them and their families.”

He rubs his chin thoughtfully.  “Still, there may be allies.  The dusk elves outside Vallaki—beyond the Vistani camp.  They are a broken people, all but destroyed by Strahd.  But if any among them still dream of vengeance, they might be willing to help.  And even if not, they may have knowledge.  No one has suffered under Strahd’s rule longer than they have.”

Tourmaline then steps forward.  “When I was pulled through the mists, I wasn’t alone,” she says, her voice clear.  “I was with Sir Rowan Caskbow.  We were traveling together, looking for all of you, and Jhon, when the mists took us.  I haven’t seen him since I arrived here, but he could still be out there.  If he is, he would not sit idle.  He would fight against this darkness, and I know he’d be a powerful ally.”

Urwin just shakes his head sadly when Zefla asks about Vallaki.  “You’re right to worry about Vallaki,” he begins.  “This town has been teetering on the edge for a long time, and now it’s as if the slightest wind could tip it over.  If you’re planning to take to the roads, we'll need to think about how to deal with things here.  It isn't your job to police this town.  I'd like to think we can keep the place from falling completely apart while you are gone.”

When Zefla asks about a magic weapon, he sighs. “Ah, magic weapons. Rare in this land, as you’ve probably realized.  Some families have heirlooms passed down—others are in the hands of Vistani traders, though they’d charge you dearly.  There’s also the matter of… ‘found’ items.”  He glances at her meaningfully.  “This is Barovia, after all.  You may need to wrest what you seek from the hands of the living - or the dead.”

Her mention of the windmill makes his brow furrow.  “The Old Bonegrinder… a cursed place, if ever there was one.  The stories you’ve heard are probably true, and worse.  Once it was a mill for grain, but now… I’ve heard whispers of dark deeds.  You’ll find little but danger there, but perhaps danger hides what you seek.”

Finally, at her mention of tea with Strahd, Urwin exhales sharply, his tone grave.  “If you decide to meet with him, be wary.  Strahd is more than a tyrant—he is a predator.  Every word he speaks is meant to ensnare you, every gesture to dominate you.  He thrives on fear and despair, and he will use every one of your weaknesses against you.  Go prepared, but remember this: no weapon, no spell, no armor will protect you as much as a clear mind and a strong heart.  Stand firm, and don’t let him dictate the terms of your meeting.  If he believes you are cowed, he’ll tighten the noose.”

He folds his arms, looking at the group. “If you plan to meet him, you should do so as a united front—no doubts, no second-guessing.  This is a man who plays games with lives and souls.  If you’re not careful, you’ll become one of his pawns.”

Soren rubs his eyes wearily as he listens to the responses and retorts, suddenly feeling the weight of the day... of every day in this accursed land thus far.

"I am sorry, Ireena..." he begins as the young noblewoman steps away after speaking of her experience with Strahd, but makes no move to stop her.

"Thank you all.  I live to serve the pack, and I consider all of you part of it, even those who have just now walked out the door.  Urwin, I have never once thought about... 'cleaning up' the scene of a death, but perhaps it would be best in the case of Wachter and her den?"

Soren describes (or sketches if possible) for Urwin the layout of the Wachter house, the access to the secret basement, and the catch phrase the party used (as prompted by the servants) when descending down to the latter:  'The dead should remain at rest.'

"I agree we must think about these potential allies.  The Dusk Elves in the nearby Vistani camp.  Sir Rowan if we can find him.  And many other tasks.  Defeating the hags at the Bonegrinder windmill, one of which has infested my and Burr's dreams on two successive nights, finding another artifact the same diviner suggested was in a den of wolves in the hills above a mountain lake, further helping Davian Martikov regain what was taken from him, recovering the holy protective relic that was stolen from Saint Andral's Cathedral one night before the attack there..."

"But most immediately, we must think about Vallaki.  And whether we accept the darklord's invitation.  I say no.  But I wish to hear what you all think.  I believe his carriage was to await us at the eastern gate of Vallaki one hour after dawn?  Barely leaving us time to rest tonight if we accept."

" If we leave Vallaki to accomplish any of these tasks who is to say it won't be burned to the ground by the time we return.  I'm not smart and I'm not one to try and think too long before acting but anything we can do to buy time and peace is worthwhile......could accepting Strahds invitation lead to this? Possibly......but we currently have no bargaining chips worth a damn and at our current numbers and strength I doubt the strongest of us would delay him more than a few moments if he was truly determined to achieve something.", Burr grumbled.

He looked out the door to where Victor had disappeared and his eyes fell upon the skeletal cat......a cat......Victor didn't seem the like to go around looking for dead animals..and there were a lot of skeletal cats there....more the twisted kind of mind to take living animals and transform them into mockeries....perhaps one of his unholy experiments on the cats is what happened to Ms Wachter....those who begin by torturing animals soon move on to people it is said.....lingering guilt would explain his outburst....Burr stood, turned from the room, and went to find him.

Urwin’s face darkens as Soren and Burr share their thoughts.  He nods thoughtfully but adds, “I am not sure how to advise you.  I know, if it were me, there is no way that I would attend this 'tea party.'  Strahd’s invitation is no act of courtesy.  It’s a spider inviting flies into its web.  The Castle Ravenloft is his domain; there, he is in the full of his power.  If you go, you’ll be completely at his mercy.  Perhaps he abides by some twisted version of hospitality, but I wouldn’t wager my life—or the fate of Vallaki—on it.”

He pauses and then leans forward, his tone more urgent.  “If you must go, take every precaution.  And leave behind instructions for those who remain, should you not return.”

Tourmaline folds her arms, her tail flicking in irritation.  “I appreciate your caution, Urwin, but the laws of hospitality are not to be ignored, even by Strahd.  He cloaks himself in the airs of nobility, does he not?  Nobles do not invite guests merely to destroy them outright—it’s a matter of pride, of power.  If Strahd meant to kill us, he’d do so here, or send his minions to do it for him.  The invitation is a gesture—a test, perhaps.  But one that likely carries some expectation of safety, at least in the short term.”

She drops her hood fully and casts a glance toward the rest of the group, her yellow eyes gleaming with a mix of frustration and curiosity.  “And yet, I am not invited.  Curious, isn’t it?  The mists saw fit to pull me here just as they did all of you, yet I’m excluded.  Is it a slight?  Or does he consider me irrelevant to whatever game he’s playing?”  Her voice lowers, her tone almost daring.  “I’d go in a heartbeat if I were invited.  It’s an opportunity—dangerous, yes, but also invaluable.  He’s showing us his hand, albeit carefully.  We’d be fools not to study it.”

Urwin frowns but does not immediately respond.  Instead, he looks to the rest of the group, clearly eager to hear their thoughts on whether to risk an encounter with the darklord himself.

Burr steps out into the hall to keep an eye on Victor.  He notices Ireena, standing at the far end of the upstairs hall by herself.  But loud noises from the bar draw his attention there.  

Burr descends the stairs into the tavern, the low hum of drunken chatter and the clink of glasses interrupted by sounds of struggle and the scraping of table legs on the wooden floor.  As he steps further down, the scene before him becomes clear: Victor Vallakovich, his nose a bloody mess, is shoved over backwards on a table, held tightly by Nikolai Wachter.  The older Wachter brother leans in close, his words slurred and taunting.

“What’s wrong, Vallakovich?” Nikolai spits, his grip firm on Victor’s collar.  “Can’t handle a real fight?  Or is it just young girls you mess with?”

Nearby, Karl Wachter is being restrained by one of the wolf hunters, who looks more annoyed than concerned as Karl struggles drunkenly in his grasp.  A half-empty bottle of vodka lies discarded on the floor, its contents pooling darkly on the wood.

Victor’s eyes burn with unshed tears, but Burr can see that his humiliation is quickly being overtaken by fury.  His fingers twitch at his sides, curling into the beginnings of a spell.  

The tavern is otherwise quiet as patrons notice the altercation, their murmured conversations halting as they turn to watch.  Adrian Martikov looks torn over whether to abandon the door to intervene.  The wolf hunter restraining Karl mutters something under his breath, but Nikolai doesn’t seem to hear.

“You’ve got nothing to say now, huh?” Nikolai growls, shaking Victor for emphasis. “Coward.  Just like your father.  Just like—”

Nikolai’s words trail off as Burr reaches the bottom of the stairs, his presence drawing his attention.  

Zefla's head was spinning.  What in the world had they gotten into?  She watches a couple leave and wonder where they are heading.  Finally she adds the few thoughts she has, "Tourmaline, I have no idea why you aren't included, I wish you were.  And if we do go to meet Strahd, I would be happy to have you join us... though I don't know how safe it would be for you." she rubs the back of her neck as that idea comes unbidden.  

"As for going to meet with him, at first I was thinking that yes, it would be interesting to see what he had to say, and would that help stay his hand on Vallaki?  If it would help the town, I think we should go.  But if that doesn't help, I guess I would lean to what the group wants.  Urwin obviously knows the most about it of this group and his advice is to not go, that weighs a lot."

"Other than figuring out to tea or not to tea, how can we immediately help the village?  Like Burr was saying, I don't want to leave this village to burn, is there another that is strong here that we should be involving?  One that could lead and maybe should?"

Quote from Bartjeebus >>

 

---

Burr steps out into the hall to keep an eye on Victor.  He notices Ireena, standing at the far end of the upstairs hall by herself.  But loud noises from the bar draw his attention there.  

Burr descends the stairs into the tavern, the low hum of drunken chatter and the clink of glasses interrupted by sounds of struggle and the scraping of table legs on the wooden floor.  As he steps further down, the scene before him becomes clear: Victor Vallakovich, his nose a bloody mess, is shoved over backwards on a table, held tightly by Nikolai Wachter.  The older Wachter brother leans in close, his words slurred and taunting.

“What’s wrong, Vallakovich?” Nikolai spits, his grip firm on Victor’s collar.  “Can’t handle a real fight?  Or is it just young girls you mess with?”

Nearby, Karl Wachter is being restrained by one of the wolf hunters, who looks more annoyed than concerned as Karl struggles drunkenly in his grasp.  A half-empty bottle of vodka lies discarded on the floor, its contents pooling darkly on the wood.

Victor’s eyes burn with unshed tears, but Burr can see that his humiliation is quickly being overtaken by fury.  His fingers twitch at his sides, curling into the beginnings of a spell.  

The tavern is otherwise quiet as patrons notice the altercation, their murmured conversations halting as they turn to watch.  Adrian Martikov looks torn over whether to abandon the door to intervene.  The wolf hunter restraining Karl mutters something under his breath, but Nikolai doesn’t seem to hear.

“You’ve got nothing to say now, huh?” Nikolai growls, shaking Victor for emphasis. “Coward.  Just like your father.  Just like—”

Nikolai’s words trail off as Burr reaches the bottom of the stairs, his presence drawing his attention.  

" Evening, all."

" Victor, no!  Nikolai, join your brother!"

His eyes meet the two hunters and he nods slightly.

He met Victors eyes then, hoping the young man was not as stupid as he seemed.....Burr didn't know how much of what happened at the Wachters Victor had heard let alone understood.  But he did know that even in his current wounded state Burr did not believe the two drunk youths posed much of a threat to anyone let alone himself.

" Perhaps it was the drink talking, perhaps servants speaking out of turn or gossiping peers but I believe we are all somewhat aware of what has overcome Stella Wachter."

" Victor, you have been struck......perhaps you think unjustly.....but surely you understand the anguish of those who have lost family......to madness if not death?"

" I honestly don't care if you or Izek or the Devil himself is responsible for Stellas condition. MY only concern is who can restore her.  Your corrupted work with reanimating the cats you have killed leads me to suspect you of sadism and torture......but what was wrought upon Stella is another thing entirely.....and something I doubt your meager skills are even capable of...."

Hopefully that now had Victor angry at him and not the two drunks......but more hopefully...he would say something to solve this riddle.....if he even knew it.   It did just now occur to Burr that there were a lot of cats in the Wachter house and the mothers dalliances with devilry may have been the cause of Stellas woes after all with Victor a patsy.....oh, well.....this is why he was the one who stabbed things and let the others talk.......

" Regardless.....I did not spend the evening striking down the damned and demons alike to bandy words with the likes of you. Speak the Truth. Plain and Clear."

Intimidation- 19

Giles head drops when he hears the words from Urwin, speaking low and mostly to himself, saying “Dusk elves.  Sir Caskbow.  Likely dead.  I’m not hearing great options here.”  He looks up, when the Bonegrinder windmill is mentioned, saying “We can have a look at that.  Perhaps there is something there to help.  But I’m not hearing any great solutions to this problem.”  His head looks down again, saying “Maybe there are none.”    And then he goes quiet, listening to the others talk, looking to the door for a moment and wondering about Burr.  

When talk revolves around to Lady Tourmaline and the invitation to Strahd’s castle for “tea”, Giles laughs a coarse laugh.  “I wonder what type of tea he likes…. Nope.  On second thought I don’t want to know.”  He smiles a tired smile at Tourmaline, saying “If you were not invited, for whatever reason, I would certainly not go.  Too dangerous, for sure.  I wonder if you could look for Sir Caskbow, or keep an eye on Vallaki, or both?  Or perhaps join us as we look to the Bonegrinder… but for now, we need to decide about this invitation.  I think we should find some way to rest, get ready, then go to this meeting, staying on our guard and see what we can uncover.  I feel like we need to be armed with more knowledge about how to take him down.  Perhaps we can learn something from the meeting, get a better idea from being there… I don’t like it at all, but I think it is our only choice.  Urwin, can you keep an eye on Ireena, keep her as safe as you can?  Perhaps we can make a play for Viktor to try and stabilize the town.. where is Viktor?  And Burr?”  Giles walks to the door, opening it and looking below, trying to hear if anyone is getting into trouble.

Urwin listens gravely to the conversation, seemingly ill at ease.

“I will keep Ireena as safe as I can,” he says, his tone resolute despite the weariness in his eyes.  “The Blue Water Inn is fortified as well as any place in Vallaki.  We’ve got iron bars on the windows, and as long as no one invites any unholy creatures inside, we should hold out.  But... if Strahd decides to make an example of us, there’s only so much I can do.  I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He pauses, glancing toward the door as if expecting trouble at any moment.  “As for Victor... I don't know.  Perhaps in time he could lead.  Right now... there was a lot of hate and fear of his father.  I'd be worried a crowd might string the boy up as soon as rally around him."  He shakes his head.  "Maybe I'm just being a pessimist.  Tonight's events have me out of sorts.”

"If not Victor...” he begins, his tone measured.  “Two other names come to mind.”

“The first is Tobias Grunfeld, a former guardsman.  Tobias left the town guard recently after rumors began to spread that he was critical of the Baron’s ways—especially the forced celebrations and punishments.  He’s been in hiding since, but I’ve heard whispers that he hasn’t left Vallaki entirely.  Tobias is a strong and capable man, one who commands respect among the guards and the common folk alike.  He’s principled, but cautious after what happened to him.  If we could find him, he might be able to rally what’s left of the guard to keep the peace.”

Urwin shifts, glancing toward the window. “The other is Sebastian Stanimir.  He’s not as powerful a noble as the Wachters or the Vallakoviches were, but he’s well-regarded.  His family has been in Vallaki for generations, and they’ve always avoided the worst of the town’s politics.  Sebastian has supported the people in quieter ways—funding repairs, aiding the poor, that sort of thing.  He’s clever and fair, but cautious.  Some might say, reclusive.  I doubt he’d step forward to lead without encouragement, but if he did, he’d bring a steady hand... and a name that the people would recognize.”

Urwin exhales deeply, looking back at the group.  “Neither is a perfect answer.  Tobias might not have the resources or experience, and Sebastian might not have the nerve to take the lead.  But if you’re looking for someone to help stabilize this town, they’re the best I can think of.”  He frowns.  “The problem will be finding them and convincing them.”

Tourmaline, seated near the hearth, leans forward, her tail flicking absently behind her.  When Giles suggest she not go to the castle, she frowns but then relents.  “I understand your reasoning, Giles,” she says, her voice low and measured.  “If I’m not formally invited to the castle, entering it could be... risky.  I’ve seen what happens to uninvited guests at noble houses back home.  And here?  With a vampire lord?  I am sorely tempted... but I shouldn't take that gamble.”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “But I don't think staying in Vallaki is an option, either.  The people here hate me, or fear me at best.  If I had my spellbook, perhaps I could do more, but without it, I’m barely going to be able to protect myself.”

“As for Sir Caskbow... I’ll hold onto hope, but I have no leads.  If he is here in town, I can hardly move about openly and ask after him.  And if he's out there in the wilds, somewhere... Well, I am no ranger.  I’d need help to search for him.”

As Giles opens the door and listens out, there is more commotion from below....

Burr’s booming voice cuts through the bar, commanding immediate attention.  Nikolai’s grip on Victor slackens, then releases, his face caught in a mix of confusion and fear as he steps back to join his brother.  The two Wachter boys exchange glances, their drunken bravado quickly dissolving under Burr’s imposing presence.  Their earlier aggression is replaced by wary obedience, and they hang back, unwilling to provoke the man who clearly holds the upper hand.

Victor, on the other hand, is visibly shaken.  His eyes dart nervously between Burr and the Wachter brothers, a mix of anger and humiliation flushing his face.  He struggles to his feet, brushing himself off with as much dignity as he can muster, though his trembling hands betray his bravado.   He wipes blood from his mouth, but only smears it more across his cheek.  When he speaks, his voice quivers with a cocktail of defiance, frustration, and fear.

"Fine!" Victor snaps, his gaze flicking toward Burr but refusing to meet his eyes directly.  "You want the truth?  Here it is—plain and clear, as you demanded!"  He straightens, though his words come out in a rushed torrent, as though desperate to rid himself of the story.

"I met Stella because our families thought we’d make a good match."  He spits the word as if it were venom.  "We didn’t.  Not in the way they wanted, anyway.  But she was smart, more than I can say for most in this gods-forsaken place.  And she was curious, like me.  She wanted to know what was out there—beyond the mists."

Victor’s voice grows quieter, more measured, as he continues, a touch of bitterness creeping in.  "We started working together.  She helped me with... with things no one else understood.  We found an old teleportation circle in the attic.  Thought maybe—just maybe—it could be a way out.  We didn’t get anywhere, couldn't get it to function, but we made a pact.  If I figured it out, I’d take her with me.  We both wanted to escape this damned place."

The room is silent except for the faint crackle of the hearth as Victor exhales sharply, bracing himself for the next part.  "Then one night, we were working.  Just working.  And that beast Izek barges in, drunk out of his mind, looking for... for something else.  He saw us, assumed... well, it doesn’t matter what he thought.  He decided I needed to be taught a lesson.  Started hitting me, throwing things."

Victor’s voice cracks, and for a moment, he looks like he might stop.  But he presses on, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stella tried to stop him.  She stepped in, yelled at him to leave me alone.  And what did he do?  He shoved her.  Hard.  She fell into the circle, and then..." He gestures vaguely, as if even remembering is too much.  "There was a flash. A sound.  A... a roar, like wind.  When it was over, she was... gone.  Not gone-gone, but she wasn’t there anymore.  Not really.  Just... blank.  Empty."

He swallows hard, glaring at the Wachter brothers now. "Then Izek left. Just walked out like nothing happened. I called for help, but when they came, they just took her away.  And you know what?  No one told me a damn thing after that.  Not her condition, not what they were going to do about it.  Nothing."

Victor sneers, his eyes narrowing at Nikolai and Karl.  "And you two... do you know what’s funny?  In all the time we talked about getting out of here, all the plans we made... not once, not once, did she ever say anything about bringing you two along."

The Wachter brothers blink, uncomprehending, their faces a mix of anger and hurt that they don’t entirely understand.  Nikolai opens his mouth to retort but thinks better of it when Burr’s shadow looms just slightly closer.

Victor’s attention snaps back to Burr.  His defiance falters for a moment before he steadies himself, his voice quieter now but no less sharp.  "There.  That’s the truth you wanted.  Are you satisfied?  Or is there more shame you can heap upon me?" He crosses his arms, standing stiffly.  "Or maybe... you'd like to share now, hmmn?  Any secrets you would like to get off your burly chest while we have an audience with these fine young Wachter gentlemen?"