As Soren turns to Urwin, asking where they might find Tobias, he scratches his beard thoughtfully, glancing at the grey light through the windows.

"Tobias?  The word is he’s taken shelter at the old watch barracks near the western gate.  Makes sense, doesn’t it?  Sturdy place, good sightlines, a few weapons still in storage.  If he’s trying to keep some order in this madhouse, that’s a solid base to start from."

Urwin pauses, a worried look crossing his face.  "But listen... Be careful on your way there.  The rogue guards— heard they’ve taken over St. Andral's.  Turned it into their own little fortress.  Makes me sick just thinking about it.  That place used to be a sanctuary for folk, and now... well, unless you’re looking to crack some skulls, I’d steer clear.  They’ve been patrolling the streets between the cathedral and the west gate, looting and picking fights."

He lowers his voice and leans in.  "Tobias’ lot aren’t many, and they’ve been stretched thin trying to establish themselves.  If you can get to him, make sure he knows we haven’t all given up hope just yet.  We need good folk like him to keep this town from falling to the wolves."

Urwin straightens, giving a nod of encouragement.  "You’ve already done more than anyone could ask...".  He pauses, then shrugs.  "... Ignoring the fact this whole nightmare started when you arrived."  He gives a sad grin, suggesting it was mostly a joke.  "But if you’re going out there, just promise me one thing—come back before nightfall.  I really don't want to have to come out looking for you."  He glances at the barred windows.  "No one with sense will be out there."

[The party can take a short rest, spending an hour at the inn gathering their courage.]

Burr perked up at the mention of rogue guards but readied himself to depart.

As Soren stretches like a bobcat and prepares himself to depart after the brief rest, he closes his eyes once more and Nettle reappears on his shoulder.

(Hopefully in time to be subject to any Pass Without Trace cast by Giles).

(Both uses of Wild Shape regained on Short Rest, then one expended on Wild Companion.)

"Urwin, if my owl companion survives, be on the lookout in case she returns and we do not.  In that case, perhaps she can signal our status to you."

Soren goes on to suggest a rudimentary system whereby one hoot with a long pause in between signifies relative success, two in quick succession separated by long pauses signifies relative failure, three signifies send help immediately, and four signifies hunker down, attack may be incoming.

His eyes bear a haunted look from the curse and knowing that Morgantha may prevent any Long Rest for him, yet dogged determination shows through.

Zefla nods as her friends vow to come along, keeping the pack together.  As they rest, she asks Urwin, "Do we want to try and bring their forces here?  Consolidate where we can till we can build upon it or just let them know we're here to back them up?  I would hate for something to happen to them over the night.  And maybe tomorrow we can take back the church."

She spends the rest helping however she can as they prepare to head out.  She sees the gleam in Burr's eye about the rogue guards, but she hopes they can make this a short trip.  Many of them need real rest.

Urwin's brow furrows at Zefla's proposal, and he glances around the inn, taking in the weary faces of the party.  He takes a deep breath before replying, his voice thoughtful.

 "You’re right to worry, Zefla.  Tobias and his folk are good people—braver than most.  But bringing them here?  I don’t know...  This inn—my family’s home—it's sturdy enough, but it’s not a fortress.  If our enemies get wind that we’re gathering fighters here, it’ll paint a target on our backs."  

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing toward the windows as if expecting trouble at any moment.  "Still, the idea of leaving them to fend for themselves doesn’t sit right either.  I sent Danika and the boys away because... well, I’m not blind.  I know what’s coming.  You find Tobias, let him know we’re on his side.  Other than that, use your best judgement.  If their current situation isn't tenable... well..." he shrugs without finishing the thought.

Zefla looks around the Inn and almost feels bad suggesting it.  Already, his home was transforming and this would make it worse.  But on the other hand... they were trying to help save the town.  She nods her agreement and gets ready to head out, securing all her weapons in her pack.

Giles readies his pack, checks his crossbow and dagger, asking if anyone has a spare dagger to lend.  Once all is settled, the band assembled of who is going and who is staying, he casts pass without trace on the party, then goes to the door, ready to embark to find Tobias, letting anyone know who can listen that they must be back here with Urwin before nightfall..

Soren gently touches Giles on the shoulder, offering his dagger hilt first.

"I will not be using this until tomorrow, not-Father.  Not until you remove my curse.  If we live, that is."  He smiles a fatalistic smile.

The druid and the owl on his shoulder, both quieter from Pass Without Trace, step outside, following Burr and Zefla.

Ireena, exhausted, remains behind to help Urwin keep an eye on the inn.  Upstairs, Victor, Tourmaline and the two wolf hunters are also sleeping and can be roused if there is trouble.

The streets of Vallaki lie cloaked in a sullen silence as the party steps out of the Blue Water Inn, their footsteps muted against the cracked cobblestones.  As Father Giles completes his Pass Without Trace, spell, the shadows around them grow thicker, like seeping into the cracks and corners of the alleys.  The air is colder, and a faint chill raises goosebumps on their skin.  Looking at each other, they notice something strange: their features blur slightly, as if seen through a thin veil of smoke.  Even their own hands seem a touch darker and more indistinct than before.  Soren squints at Giles, only to find the priest’s face almost unrecognizable —just a vague silhouette with gleaming eyes.  A shiver runs through as he is reminded of Bramble's skeletal appearance and the other macabre forms normal magicks seem to take here in this realm.  As they move through the gloom, even the sound of their breathing seems to be swallowed up by the creeping shadows.  The spell is effective, but unsettling.  

The town remains eerily quiet.  Most windows remain tightly shuttered.  A dog barks in the distance, but the sound is swallowed by the dense, oppressive quiet.  Occasionally, a desperate figure scurries from one alley to another—someone carrying a bundle of food cord of firewood before slamming the door.  The streets smell of soot, sweat, and fear.  As the party rounds a corner, they see a hunched figure hammering a board over a broken window.  The man glances up, squints into the shadowed street, but doesn't spot them.  Still, he seems to sense a presence, and he ducks back inside, bolting shut the door.

The party passes by the remnants of earlier conflicts.  In one spot, a broken cart overturned in the road, and a bloodied helmet lying like a cracked egg on the ground beside it.  Then later, as they carefully navigate the maze of alleys, they hear faint sobbing from a doorway—a woman in a torn shawl cradling a dead man.  The man's shirt is full of holes and dried blood, as though we were stabbed many times.  The woman barely glances at the party, too lost in despair to muster fear or curiosity.  

As they enter the western part of town, the bell from St. Andral’s tolls.  They take care to avoid the area around the cathedral, remembering Urwin’s warning about the rogue guards.  Nettle spots movement—figures carrying torches, patrolling aggressively.  The party can hear raised voices in the distance shouting orders and occasionally hear the sound of fists pounding on doors, demanding food or supplies.  The party slips away, the unnoticed in the grey afternoon.

As they get closer to the western gate, the noise level increases.  When they finally see the west gate, they see it is secured and under guard.  Beside it they spot the barracks.  It’s a squat, stone structure with narrow windows, its wooden door reinforced with scavenged metal sheets.  Wooden barricades block the front entrance, and a few guards in mismatched armor are stationed outside, keeping watch with tired but wary eyes.  A short distance away, they see a gathering of townsfolk, perhaps a dozen in total, mostly older men and women.  They’re offering bundles of food and blankets to a man in a faded guard uniform, who nods and offers calm reassurances. 

So far, the party's approach hasn't been noticed.

Soren's face remains grim as he witnesses the dissolution what he once would have named the 'larger pack' made up of the inhabitants of Vallaki.

"Sooner or later, we will have to deal with the renegade guards who have made a den out of the Cathedral of Saint Andral.  A pack they may be, but they take for themselves out of all proportion, with no natural sense of balance for the territory they share with others."

"And yet, ultimately Strahd bears responsibility.  It may be others who act:  this other vampire Anastrasia who attacked the Cathedral with her thralls, or these renegade guards bullying the townsfolk, or the devil-worshipping Wachter pack.  In the end, though, I have no doubt that the dark lord in his dark castle has the power to stop any and all of it if he so chose.  This land is Strahd's responsibility.  He is either complicit in its pain, or at least indifferent."

Then later, upon viewing the western gate, the druid turns to his companions.

"Not-father, your magic has allowed us to pass unseen, but much like my primal abilities, it seems affected by this land.  Our forms tinged with darkness and death.  It may disquiet the guards if we approach with the eerie cast to our forms.  If we wish to converse openly, should we remove the magic to pass without trace before they see us?  And which of us should speak?"

" Not me.", grunted Burr.

For a moment, Giles is looking around, considering.  He takes the dagger that Soren offers him and stuffs it deep down his boot, hiding it from sight.  The other is on his belt, within easy reach.  "Well damn.  I suppose it should be me, shouldn't it?  I'll give it a go.  Soren, please give me a blessing, pray to the spirits of the animal folk that you know and let them give me the gift of gab, cause I surely think I'll need it.  If the rest of you want to find somewhere nearby, out of sight that I can whistle for you, that'd be appreciated.  I hope this doesn't go sigodlin.  I'll whistle twice if all is well, three times if I need you.  Ready everyone?  Places please.  Enter reliable ally, co-consipirator and supportive soldier, stage right.  *Ahem*."   Giles gathers himself, accepts any blessing that Soren may have to offer, and then he lets the pass without trace drop from his body, then he walks confidently around the corner and up to the waiting guard, saying :

"Good sir, dreadful night, I come from towards the east gate and the Blue Water Inn.  I would speak with Tobias, if he would receive me.  I bring word from Urwin and would like to see if we could join forces.  Together, we will be stronger, and can set Vallaki right again.  Please.  Good sir.  May I speak with him?"

(Soren touches Giles' shoulder to grant him Silvanus' Guidance before he approaches the guards near the gate.)

"May you walk in the wisdom and influence of a pack elder, not-Father."

Burr hangs back in the darkness....

The moment Father Giles rounds the corner and lets the magic of his spell fall away from him, the shadows seem to snap back like rubber bands, recoiling into the alleys and corners where they belong.  The air feels lighter—but only just—and the guard posted at the barricade straightens at the sudden appearance of a stranger.

He’s a younger man, nervous in his armor, eyes darting to the half-drawn sword at his hip.  Giles’s calm tone and empty hands seem to register, but the guard still steps forward, placing himself between Giles and the makeshift gate.  Another guard appears on a wooden walkway above, crossbow angled downward, though not yet aimed at Giles.

The younger guard by the barricade stammers, “From the eastside, huh?  People are saying there’s trouble up that way.”

When Giles mentions Urwin, the guards glance at one another.  That name seems to mean something to them.

The guard above calls out, “Urwin Martikov, you mean? Innkeeper?  Didn’t think he was taking sides.”

They seem torn... cautious, not hostile, but untrusting.  Giles’s poise and words keep their nerves in check, but he’s still an outsider to them.

Then a voice calls from within the barracks.  It is stern and authoritative.  “What’s this noise?  It there are visitors, call it out.”

The heavy oak door swings open, and the speaker emerges.  He’s a large man, middle-aged and solid with a soldier’s bearing and a slight limp.  A faded captain’s tabard is stretched across his chest.  His hand rests on the pommel of his longsword.  He studies Giles from a distance, brow creased with suspicion.

"I'm Tobias.  Did I hear right?  You said Urwin Martikov sent you?”  He steps down from the threshold and approaches Giles, close enough to properly size him up.  “That’s a name I still trust—mostly.  But I’ve also heard strange stories... that he is harboring assassins who killed both the Baron and Lady Wachter.  And his wife and kin just left town in haste."   He looks back down the alleys toward where the shadows of the rest of the party linger.

“Speak plain, Stranger.  Who are you, really?  What aid do you offer?  And how much trouble comes with it?"

The guards behind him tense, waiting for Tobias’s signal.  He himself remains relaxed, in control.

"Tobias, glad to meet you.  My name is Father Giles."  Hands clasped together with fingertips forming a rooftop, a church within his hands.  "I am with my friends, we were visiting your town, staying at the Blue Water Inn, when, well frankly sir, all hell broke loose.  We went to the winery at the direction of Urwin Martikov to see why the flow of wine had stopped.  We found nasty druids attacking the winery and building a foul statue to that one that lives up in the high castle on the hill.  Well, we smashed that statue, slayed the druids and their foul abominations and restored the flow of wine.  We were running other errands too to try and help the good people of Vallaki and this land.  When we returned to Vallaki, it was under attack, from foul night-walking undead vampyres, crawling on roofs, slaying solder, citizen, man, woman, and child alike.  We saved the Baron's son Victor, but the Baron and his captain of the guard were slain by those foul beasts.  We discovered that the Lady Wachter was in league with the Dark Lord, she was devil worshipping in her basement!  We were invited into her house for dinner and barely made it out alive.  Now we understand that her sons are causing even more trouble!  We just came in the eastern gate earlier today - - and we were attacked by several cultists, lying in wait to ambush us.  We have gathered the strength of the willing, we are here to meet with you, to see how we can join forces, against the tide of evil that is threatening to take over this town.  Urwin feels, and I agree, seeing you, that you are the one to lead this town.  To restore order.  To stop the fighting, so that you can band together and fight against what matters - to throw down the undead beasts who would kill all for sport and their own feast.  What say you?  My friends are nearby, they would come in friendship and lend their arms to your cause.  Right now they are hidden by magic from my Lady Tymora, do not be alarmed, like I said, they come in friendship, to join together in our cause.  Urwin wishes for us to let you know that they are bound to your cause, they are allies and ready to fight with you.  The two wolf hunters and the other willing folk are behind you!  We, dear sir, are here to help."

To demonstrate his power and make clear the lack of a threat here, Giles casts his telekinetic mage hand, which hovers in the air for a second, then it removes the dagger from his belt, laying it on the ground.  He smiles at Tobias, the ever reassuring Father Giles, hands held together with index fingers arched up like a steeple under his chin, awaiting the reception of his words.    

Zefla stays put under the creepy shadow magic and listens as Giles tells their tale, pretty well she might add.  She is also bolstered a bit by how Tobias is, at least holds himself better than what Urwin painted a picture.  She dares not yet hope though.  She was hoping Giles would pull them out now, but she doesn't want to ruin the moment, so she stays put as asked.  But completely agrees with Soren for the need to take out the group at the church.  Just knowing they have overtaken that place makes her skin crawl.

His naturally sharp perception dulled by the hags' curse, Soren struggles to make out the details of Giles' conversation with the guardsmen and Tobias.  The druid focuses on continuing his concentration on Silvanus' guidance for the priest of Tymora.

Nettle perches on his shoulder, not wishing to fly up and risk a shot from a skittish crossbowman, relaying to Soren what she hears.  He nods in approval at nearly everything Giles says, though his brow furrows slightly.  He recalls Urwin describing Tobias as a guardsman who might replace Izek, not become the new pack leader of Vallaki.  Then again, perhaps Tobias would be best for that too, since the noble Urwin spoke of, Sebastian Stanimir, seemed reluctant..

Tobias listens.  At first, arms crossed, brow furrowed, his booted foot tapping a slow, uncertain rhythm.  The mage hand and floating dagger draws a flicker of alarm from the guards—crossbow strings tighten, one blade partially drawn—but Tobias raises a hand to stay them as the spectral hand gently lays the dagger down.

He studies Father Giles, his fingers tapping now at the hilt of his sword.  Giles’s words crash like waves: druids, vampires, cultists, Lady Wachter a devil-worshiper, the massacre at the Baron's home, Victor alive, Urwin vouching for them—so much, too much, one revelation piled atop another until it sounds like madness….

Tobias runs a hand over his stubbled face.  "You’ve got a tongue, priest.  I’ll grant you that.  And either you’re the most silver-spoken liar I’ve seen walk this cursed ground, or the Morning Lord himself’s walking with you…"

He looks over Giles' shoulder, toward the town behind him—to the narrow streets, the boarded windows where families huddle, too afraid to speak aloud after dark.  "Lady Wachter... I had my suspicions.  But no proof.  And no strength to act.  I doubt the Baron would have ever moved against her... gods rest him or not, he had me watching for wolves  and woodsfolk, not devils under his nose.  So she was a diabolist?  And she had made common cause with the Devil in his high castle?"

He looks Giles in the eye.  He wants to believe.  "If Urwin sent you, that means something.  He’s not one to take foolish risks.  If you’ve got him and the inn behind you…"

He trails off for a beat, his voice uncertain again, humbled.  "This town’s near broken.  People are scared.  Some are angry, some just want to go to ground and wait for the end.  If you’re telling the truth, Father—and Morning Lord forgive me, but I think you are—then we're up against more than vandals and brigands... we’ll need more than swords and barricades."

He takes a slow breath, then nods.  "Bring your friends forward.  Let me see the faces of the ones willing to stand for Vallaki.  You’ll have my ear.  Maybe more."

A scream pierces the calm.

From behind the party, a woman barrels into view—shawl half-falling from her shoulders, skirts muddy, breath coming in heaving sobs.  Her face is contorted with grief, but her voice is clear and sharp as glass.  "You bastard! You sent them out there!" she shrieks, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger at Tobias.  "You sent my boy!  My Emil!  Him and his friends—you said you needed them, you said they’d make a difference!  Now they’re gone!  They were taken, taken, and they say they’re going to kill them at dusk!"

She stumbles closer, almost collapsing at his feet, beating her fists weakly against his breastplate.  "You killed him.  You killed my son, Tobias."  Her voice cracks into a wail.  She falls to her knees on the cobblestones, sobbing, cursing him in equal measure.  “May the mists take you next.  May your strength rot and your blood curdle inside you!”

The guards stiffen.  A few shift uncomfortably, glancing between one another.  One man mutters, “What happened now…” . Another swears under his breath.  No one meets Tobias' eyes.

Tobias stands still, the woman clinging to his boots.  His jaw tightens.  He doesn’t recoil or rebuke her.  But you can see it—his shoulders sag a fraction.  The fight bleeds from his face, replaced by something hollow and raw.

He looks at the guards, and they look back at him—waiting.  Expecting something.  A decision.  A call.  

But Tobias just says quietly, voice dry as dead leaves, “I told them not to push too far.  I told them.  It wasn’t meant to be a fight.  I just needed them to find the perimeter and report back...”.  He kneels.  Slowly.  Carefully.  He places a hand on the woman’s shoulder—not firm, not commanding, just there. “I’m sorry,” he says.  “I swear by my mother’s name, I didn’t mean for this.  I only wanted to show the people that we could stand.  That we didn’t have to be afraid.”

The woman weeps harder.  Tobias hugs her gently.  He speaks to her, but loud enough for his men to hear.  “It's a trap,” he says.  “There's no reason for them to announce they'll kill the boys other than to draw us out.  But if we charge in now, we don't have the soldiers yet to take them all on.  We die.  And the town falls.”

The older woman sobs, then looks up at him... and spits in his face.  "Tobias Grunfeld, I name you coward!  You gather boys out from their homes to fight, while you cower in your hole.  May the Devil take you, you empty, faithless wretch!"  She pushes away from and staggers back down the alley, wracked with sobs.

Tobias stands slowly.  He straightens.  A long silence hangs in the air.

None of the guards speak.  One of them nods, grimly.  Another lowers his eyes, but stays at his post.

Zefla starts exiting the curtain of shadows as Tobias asks for Giles's friends to show themselves, but stops short when the woman comes and lays her dismays at Tobias's feet.  She sighs, she worries this is just the start, but the town squabbles?  What they need to face is so much bigger than this.

As the woman runs off, Zefla does come out of the shadows and nods towards Tobias, standing next to Giles.  Her small stature never bothered her, but for some reason in this situation, she feels it.  Maybe its the fact numbers mean so much right now, and so does the appearance of force.  She knew what she could do, even if she didn't look it.

"My name is Zefla, and what Giles's speaks is truth, all of it.  We want to help."  She thinks about saying more, but the woman's words tug on her, should she offer to go scout?  Go check on if her boy was ok.. this was definitely not her wheelhouse.  She finally settles on, "We can stand, we don't have to be afraid."