Soren stands in the rain, musing about the strange man with the monstrous, spiny hand.  The druid has always been observant.  Watching and listening...

"Not the pack leader, that one.  Ah... not Baron Vargas, I mean, but works for him in his den.  He expected us to know who he is.  Commanding the other... servants(?) such as this Emeric he kept calling disdainfully.  Perhaps the Baron's second as that Rahadin we saw is Strahd's second?"

Soren looks up at the lightening storm, eyes distant, trying to remember conversations he has heard since entering the town.  I have spent so long away from my wilderness home... is this all that is left for me?  To try to piece together the ways of city-dwellers from paltry clues?

"Father Lucian talked of the elderly petitioner Wilhelmina's son, Udo, who spoke out against Baron Vargas at the Festival of Wolves, saying the town should turn the Baron over to the wolves." (post 654)  "He said Udo 'took a beating from Izek's men and spent a day in the stocks. The guards took him away after that and no one has heard from him.'  Before that, the guards at the gate said commander Izek may want to speak with us about our silvered weapons, which are in short supply."  (post 634) "I wonder if that man at the door was Izek.  He did seem intrigued by your blades, Zefla."

He sighs, unsure, then looks at Giles, hopefully.  "By now, the colorful half-elf may be back at the Blue Water Inn already.  Shall we return?"

Giles nods to Soren, saying “Let us go back there and ponder this note that was found.  I thought that half-elf quite odd, was hopeful we could track him but in this storm - no.  Let’s head back to the Inn if everyone else agrees.  Sorry to drag you out into this rain at night, but …. something is going on here.  I just can’t place it.  I can feel it in my gut.”  He holds his hand over his stomach, then looks with a leer at Zefla, almost daring her to say anything further about his gastrointestinal hunches.  

" Honestly I'm much happier if you just tell me who to hit....this entire world gives me the creeps.", Burr grimaced.

Zefla huffs as the door is shut in her face.  She starts squeezing the hair out of her braids, a wasted effort as it obviously hasn't stopped raining but she does it anyways.

She grumbles a bit and just glares at Giles as he references his gut again, rolling her eyes at the fact.  About halfway back to the Inn she gets over her fussing and asks, "Did you guys see that man's hand and arm?  Soo gruesome!  I wonder how it happened... and so strange that he expected us to know who he was by it.  That was wild!  Think he would have had us for supper if he did let us in?"  Her small smile at the talk of the hand grows into a grin at this.  "Man!  That would be a way to go, wouldn't it?"

As they arrive back at the Inn, she heads straight for the bar, "Danika!  Who is the man that resides at Baron Vargas's that has the creepy, monster like hand?" 

The party trudges back through the storm in the direction they had come, trying to find their way back to the Blue Water Inn through the dark and unfamiliar streets of Vallaki.  Under the raging night sky, you feel very exposed here, and the walls between you and the Barovian wilderness offer somewhat less comfort than they did a few hours ago.

When you finally reach the inn again, the rain is beginning to let up; it is still storming and the wind has periodic, powerful gusts, but the rain is now just a steady drizzle instead of the heavy curtains of rain from earlier.  You see the storm has claimed a victim... the eavestrough of the building adjacent to the inn has come off and fallen to the ground, smashing a birdsnest that had once been nestled in its overhang.  A single broken egg lies in the wet street.

You are all drenched when you re-enter the Blue Water Inn.  Your wet clothes stick to your bodies, and you are tracking puddles of water behind you as you return to your seats.  The patrons are all still here, with yet another table having been filled with fresh customers.  The atmosphere is the closest you have seen to relaxed mirth since you arrived.  Even so, rather than the usual din of a tavern well into drinking hours, there is a certain somber quiet that hangs over the room, as though no one wants to raise their voice or attract attention.  The one exception would be the two blonde noblemen.  They are slurring and shouting merrily, in high spirits and deep in the throes of that bottle of vodka.

You see the half-elf Rictavio has indeed beaten you back to the inn.  He sits at a table near the group of outdoorsmen [the larger group of woodsy-looking guys, not the two hunters you met earlier].  He is damp as well, but sits under a blanket of patched grey fox pelts as he warms up.  He seems to be finishing a story as you enter.  "... and that is why they say you should never trust an arcanaloth to be anything other than what it is... a clever and self-interested fox."

" Well I don't know about you lot but I'm looking to get out of these wet clothes and get some shut eye.", Burr grumbled.

Danika looks taken aback by the directness of Zefla's question.  "Ahem.  I... I believe you can only be referring to Izek Strazni.  Izek is captain of the town watch and the personal bodyguard of the Baron."  She smiles but looks like she is struggling to think of how to say the next bit.  "Izek himself seems quite indifferent about townfolk discussing his... hand... but the Baron... he has decided that focussing on or discussing Izek's... unusual appendage... is negative thinking and must be avoided."

Then she cocks an eyebrow.  "Where did you encounter Izek?  Was he out in that storm?  What was the watch up to?"

"Izek Strazni."  Zefla says his name like she is trying to commit it to memory.  "I can see why he is quite indifferent, the man basically shoved it in my face to make sure I noticed it!  How did it happen?  Was he born that way?!"

She looks to her bedraggled friends, raising an eyebrow to Burr's comment, but turns back to Danika, "We, well, I knocked on Baron Vargas's door, hoping to get some shelter from the storm.  You can see how good that did.  But apparently, Emeric didn't answer the door, so Izek did."

Soren nods at Danika's confirmation that the bony-handed man answering Baron Vargas' door was indeed Izek as he had hypothesized aloud earlier.

"Yes, Zefla, I have never seen a hand or claw or paw such as his.  And the purple lights in the attic we noticed just before knocking.  Strange."

He smiles to see Rictavio back at the Blue Water Inn telling stories.  An arcanaloth?  What in Silvanus' wild realm is that?  No fox I have ever heard of.

Soren is about to bring up this question to Rictavio, but he reconsiders, remembering that he has already pestered the half-elf with questions when he first left the Inn.  Instead he turns to Giles.  "There he is, not-Father.  You wished to speak with him?  The only other half-elf we have seen in this world besides myself, I think.  He tells me that he too came through the mists from elsewhere."

He looks at Burr in commiseration but hopes the grumpy warrior will stay to hear what Rictavio has to say.  "Another drink first?"

Burr grinned at Soren, " Sure...why not..."

" Lets hope you are Giles have a cure if we all catch our death of cold."

"So far as I recall..." Danika begins to answer, but her husband Urwin interrupts her as he steps out with several more hot plates of steaks for his hungry guests.  

"Danika, my love, can you clear the grease from the kitchen?  I have my hands full."  She nods, excuses herself from the bar, and heads into the kitchen.  "All will be well!  The steaks are ready!" Urwin intones as he moves through the tavern.  After he delivers all the plates, he steps alongside Zefla to wipe a smudge from the bar.  Quietly, he says, "Ma'am, it is unwise to ask such questions about the Baron and his lieutenant, even in such friendly company as this.  You are new in town.  I understand.  Since you have rooms for the night, how say I pay you and your friends a visit in the morning?  I can perhaps answer some of your questions and give a primer on navigating the politics of our fair town."

You can continue ordering drinks as you please, just mark off the relevant coin from your character sheets.

As Danika leaves the halfling, Zefla settles back into her chair, a bit miffed that she didn't get anymore information from the friendly barmaid.  But as Urwin comes back around and speaks to her, she turns to him and speaks as quietly back.

"Thank you, kind sir.  I do not mean to be stirring up trouble, just trying to understand what is going on.  We would very much appreciate a visit in the morning and I will not mention Izek or the Baron again tonight."

She nods towards the two blonde noblemen that are very much enjoying themselves, "Would they be interested in some company?  I would like to enjoy the rest of my evening and my comrades, well, they are just too wet."

Urwin looks at the two noblemen, who are arm wrestling over their table at this very moment.  He answers, his voice still low but with less urgency than before.

"Be my guest.  They are mostly harmless.  Karl and Nikolai Wachter.  Just don't expect sparkling conversation.  Those boys... they haven't quite grown up, do you understand?"

Soren hands over to Danika or Urwin three silver and two copper pieces, which should cover up to well over four glasses of Purple Grapemash No. 3 wine (5cp each) plus tip.  He is beginning to pick up on the custom of tipping, though he is uncertain how much is appropriate.

For now, he takes one for himself and hands one to Burr.  Zefla and Giles are free to take one as well if they wish.

As Zefla considers befriending the two young and drunk nobles, Soren is a bit melancholy about the broken egg on the street.  He tries to remember if it looked like a raven's egg.  Shaking out of his reverie as the drinks arrive, Soren asks Danika or Urwin:

"It looks as if there was something written between the second line (Red Dragon Crush) and the fourth line (Vodka) on the board, but it has been smudged out.  Is it something that you do not have any more?"

Otherwise, Soren waits for Giles to ask his questions of Rictavio, who the party had chased halfway across town in the storm after all.

Giles takes the glass of wine with a nod and thanks to Soren, then sits down to warm up, shaking off the outer layer of his cloak as he came in the door, stamping his boots.  He says to Soren “Very well.  Or is it, All Will be Well?  Never mind.  I would like to hear any further tales…”

Giles sits near Rictavio, but opposite enough that he can have a look at his face, read his expressions, etc.  He smiles and says “Rictavio, I presume?  My name is Giles, so nice to meet you, someone so… traveled … to have encountered or know of an arcanaloth.  Did you actually encounter one before?  I’m sorry that I missed your tale.  We were out in that wicked storm, beastly weather!  So, where do you hail from, originally?  Good Soren here told me about you earlier and said that you were going to feed someone?  Was their meal soggy with the downpour we had earlier?  Who were you feeding, if I might ask?  An arcanaloth?”  *grin*. He stops and appraises Rictavio, seeing his response to his questions and curious about his story…  Let the questioning begin…..

Insight : (Nat 20 + 6) : 26

Soren, the birdsnest outside was much too small to have been a raven.  Perhaps it belonged to a hawfinch or a sparrow.

As Soren asks his question, Urwin looks up from his quiet conversation with Zefla.  "Oh, that.  Until recently there was a third spirit produced by my father's winery.  A brandy we called Rachiu din Stomp.  It has been discontinued, sadly."  

Rictavio looks up at Father Giles from his seat, bright eyes peeking out from under his hat, fox-pelt blanket wrapped around him.

He smiles and nods, "Ah, it is always a pleasure to meet a fan.  Yes, it is I, Rictavio, of late the master of ceremonies for Phantasmagorical Flights of Fancy, perhaps you have heard of it, yes?  A most wondrous carnival it was, though fortune dictated that I must chart a different path."  He places a hand over his hard, showing sorrow.  "No, I haven't personally met any arcanaloths," he laughs.  "Though how fascinating that would be... imagine, navigating the pitfalls of a conversation with a master manipulator... a fiendish, dangerous man-fox?  How wickedly exciting."

"Oh, Rictavio hails from all across the world," he adds.  "Most recently we toured in Dementlieu, though we have put on shows in Mordent, Darkon and Borca."  He looks at you.  "Your friend the druid mentioned you were out-of-towners as well.  Though I did not recognize the names... Neverwinter?  Daggerford?  They sound wonderful, though the names are a tad... generic?  As though one were populating a map and just sticking interesting sounding words together, no?"  He corrects himself.  "A thousand pardons, my tongue sometimes has a mind of its own... I mean no offense.  Tell me something about your homeland.  Do they have carnival shows there?  Would they like to see a new one, perhaps?"

At your question about the meal, he smiles brightly again.  "Yes, I have made friends with a local toymaker.  A brilliant but lonely man... I worry for his constitution.  I fear he would forget to eat did I not deliver a little something to him.  The man has taken to care for my monkey, Piccolo... the Martikovs, generous hosts though they are, would not allow the little scamp to stay here with me at the inn."

"It does seem you braved the storm as well.  It must have been something most pressing, to drag you out of the warmth and hospitality of the Blue Water Inn and into the teeth of that maelstrom.  I can only hope it was worth it."

Giles:

Zefla smiles at Urwin's comment, "Oh yes, I know what you mean."

She nods in thanks to Soren as she grabs one of the glasses of wine.  Taking it in hand, she heads over to the table where the noblemen are arm-wrestling.

She looks to both of them, and then says while lifting up her arm and flexing, "I'm arm wrestling the winner."

Burr was eager to get out of this town and back on the road...though unsure how safe a place it actually was for their two former companions to settle....there seemed something offputting about all the folks here but he had little experience in such large settlements so perhaps it was simply the way of things.

He nursed his drink and waited for the others to be finished socialising...

Soren is about to ask Urwin more about the discontinued brandy, wondering if some of the bar patrons could be correct in their suspicions that the drinks may be gone soon, but his musing is forgotten as Rictavio begins to speak.  The druid listens befuddled at his fellow half-elf's flamboyant glibness.  Did he just imply that I am not really from Neverwinter Wood?  Soren is struck by a sudden melancholy, remembering the ashes as they drifted softly down.

He perks up when hears of the manipulative man-fox and later the monkey.  Not sensing Rictavio's facetiousness, Soren speaks in a naively forthright way.

"Something pressing?  No, well... in a way.  We went into the storm following you, actually, hoping to ask more questions.  Feeling you might have answers.  Instead we found strange purple lights, an odd invitation to a book club lying on the ground, and an unfriendly man with a monstrous hand..."

Soren trails off, having lost his train of thought.  "Do you have other animals as friends, Rictavio?  Besides Piccolo the monkey, I mean.  In Neverwinter Wood, my closest friends were wolves.  A few bears too, and one fox.  I fear many died in the fire which I fled as it destroyed our home."

He looks thoughtful and sad all over again and takes a sip of wine.