Seeing he’s surrounded Ansur lets out a brief grumble as he snarls at those undefined figures. “Oi! An ambush is it?! Couldn’t fight me by your lonesome beastie. Come at me.” He taunts the figures as he inspects his surroundings.
I’m unsure if he can distinguish what others have said due to distance, but he’d prepare the attack action as he holds his ground in the middle of the cross roads.
What reveals itself to be a mysterious winged creature suddenly disappears and Miralen sees several new figures appear, surrounding her. Just as quick as she's seen them, some have taken cover, and sensing possible danger and uncertainty she hurries to take cover behind the nearest tree, keeping her bow ready and prepared for an attack.
As everyone takes their actions to further reveal themselves or hide, it is apparent that many are confused, no one is particularly hostile, and one even announces themselves as peaceful.
At this point we can abandon Initiative order, and we can move in to a bit of free Dialogue and RP as you all go about introducing yourselves in your own way. I will interject only when there is a roll being made, or a question being asked!
Svetlana initially hid... because in Barovia there are only two kinds of people: the cautious ones and the dead ones. However, seeing how the newcomers behave, it is apparent that many are confused, no one is particularly hostile... and what convinces her most is the young man with the flute who jokingly considers the idea of being crazy and claims to be coming in peace.
"He comes from the mists... He has the quick wit to joke... And he talks about peace..." thinks the last of the Dusk Elf maidens "Maybe he's one of those poor guys who every now and then get captured by the Mists, who are from Outside. Perhaps the new plaything of the Devil Stradh?"
As every time her thoughts turn to their executioner, her voices are unleashed, overwhelming her with contrasting feelings and exhortations: "Don't talk to him, Svetlana! If the Devil Stradh comes after him you must avoid him! Or he will discover you too!" “Stay hidden, Svetlana!” "I can't stay hidden and not care! Don't you see how young and…inexperienced he is? He just got here! He doesn't deserve…whatever is about to happen to him". "Let the Wereraven help him! Don't meddle!" "Maybe the Wereraven led me here, to these strangers... to make me find what I would have struggled to find in Barovia: help and allies. I need both, if I want to survive". "And avenge us all". "Svetlana is right, maybe strangers can help us". "But it's dangerous..." “Missing an opportunity to get help also is”.
Having made her decision, the woman with long brown hair (which covers her ears incompletely) and dressed in rough skins, without any armor, emerges from the foliage with the same naturalness as if she, until the moment before, had been part of it, instead of just hidden. She keeps her hands visible, away from the few weapons she carries with her, just a shortbow slung over her shoulder and a shortsword sheathed at her side. She turns her finely chiseled face and, above all, her curious (and perhaps... concerned?) azure eyes towards each of the newcomers one by one.
"You... You're not from Vallaki, are you?" she tries to ask, addressing everyone "Or worse... You're not even from Barovia, I assume? You have no idea what Barovia is and how you ended up here?"
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens approaches Radallion anyway and holds out her hand with an uncertain smile: "I'm Svetlana, anyway. Pleasure to meet you - as much as it is possible to find pleasure in Barovia". She then also addresses the others "Pleasure to meet you all too".
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Rufus steps carefully out from behind his tree. He navigates over the stones and tree roots and toward the clearing. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, lowering his crossbow to point toward the earth.
Rufus is tall and lean, dressed in aged, slightly worn gentleman's clothes that reveal the slightest fraying at the seams. He favors lengthy sleeves in the old styling, with a faded, white undercoat that rides high up his neck and extends to the very ends of his wrists. His hands are fitted with dark leather gloves, the tips cut to reveal pale, manicured fingernails. His leggings are slim and elegant, a pair of dark woolen pants tucked into sturdy, low-heeled walking boots, themselves wrapped in leathern spats secured by a series of buckles running up his shins. None of his flesh, other than that of his face, is exposed.
He appears to be in his mid thirties. Still, the weight of his hard, gray-washed existence shows, as his skin is tired-looking, his face gaunt and bearing a ghastly pallor of the skin. He sports dark hair and a gentryman's moustache, all revealing premature signs of gray. With its gossamer texture, his hair seems to float rather than fall above his crown. Dark circles coalesce beneath his eyes like gathering clouds, and crow lines etch their way around their periphery.
He smiles at you then, though it is the mirthless expression of one who is merely resigned to their existence. He carries the stillness of the grave, for all about him there is an air of melancholy, as though the sun were ever so reluctant to shine in his direction.
"Hello," he says with a little bow. Even in such strange circumstances, gentlemanly etiquette comes automatically. "Greetings to you all. My name is Rufus van Hildegoath, of House van Hildegoath of Daggerford, son of Cornelius van Hildegoath, though he rest in peace, and his ladywife, my mother, Winifred van Hildegoath."
He looks to Svetlana. A wildling, tribeswoman, huntress, shaman? "Svetlana. The pleasure is mine. But I fear you are mistaken. Barovia, you say? No, we are adjacent to my family's, the van Hildegoath, estate, on the outlaying moors of Daggerford. I was, ah..." he notices his crossbow. "...inspecting the property for predators. And you others?" He looks around to those not hidden. "May I ask with whom I am so fortunate to meet this foggy day?"
‘Well I must say they certainly look real’ Radallion thinks as he walks closer “Ahhha!” A woman emerges from nowhere right in front of him making him jump in surprise. Clutching his chest he takes a moment to recover. Quickly regaining his composure once she starts introducing herself. When she reaches out to shake his hand he takes it dropping to one knee and kisses it. Still down on the ground he says “I am Radallion! Fabulous traveling musician it is a pleasure miss Svetlana your beauty is a sight to behold“ He lets go of her hand and stands back up with flourish. “I am from Neverwinter and wasn’t aware that I was in Barovia“ he looks around at the trees and area and jumps again when someone else emerges from the trees though this time he manages to not scream. When the newcomer introduces himself he replies “It is a honor to meet a man of noble family” he bows deeply “I am Radallion! Fabulous traveling musician you may have heard of me!”
"So I was not the only one to have given priority to prudence..." thinks Svetlana, when Rufus steps carefully out from behind his tree.
However, when, surprising her, Radallion kisses her hand and compliments her on her beauty, the last of the Dusk Elf maidens blushes in embarrassment... The last suitor she had had done a horrible thing to her . After that, she had been like her dead for a long time. Since she had begun to live again, she had had to distrust most creatures (if not defend herself from them) rather than enjoy their courtesy. Caught unprepared, she tries to slow down her rapidly accelerating heartbeat and responds to the kind traveling musician, smiling this time more openly and confidently: "Oh, you are really so kind, Radallion... This cursed land could certainly use your cheerfulness and kindness - it's you, on the other hand, who had no need to end up here..." she seems worried again "...but I... We... Oh, I don't know... Maybe something can be done" she tries to look determined.
"Yes, of course... We can do something to escape from the Mists..." Svetlana mentally criticizes herself for her absurd hopes "Kill the Devil Stradh, for example... Why not?" Although with less impetus than usual, her Voices in her head promptly intervene: "Yes, Svetlana! Maybe with the right allies it can be done!" "The Devil Stradh must pay for what he has done!" "My daughter! She was only five years old! And that murderous lackey with the pike took her and..." Horrible memories pour into her consciousness - memories that are not hers, but which revive in an instant in her mind like a kaleidoscope of horror.
The savage wanderer recovers, realizing that she has taken on a pained expression and that she has brought her hands to her temples. She understands that Rufus has not yet realized the horrible truth. He still believes he is close to home. He doesn't know that he has probably lost it forever and will never see it again. She is in doubt whether it is better to insist immediately or rather let him realize the ruthless truth on his own...
The lack of threat perhaps unnerves Rhykal more than anything else; if she relaxes, she does so only minutely, her gaze darting between the figures she sees. Their (rather extensive) introductions are enough to convince her to lower her sword, carefully sheathing it at her side, though they do not quiet her growing unease.
As she takes several more steps forward, emerging distinctly into view, it is clear she cuts a somewhat tall figure — at least, as human women are concerned — with dark, curly hair pulled back from her face, deep brown skin, and golden-brown eyes that flick from person to person before staring back into the mist that surrounds them, as if it might yet shed further secrets — or further figures, less prone to introduction. But perhaps she needn’t look into the mists at all; this Svetlana, more than the others, seems she might know something, though the name of the locations means little to Rhykal.
“My name is Rhykal,” she offers, in response to Rufus’ question; unsettled as she is, she forces herself to return to some version of courtesy, though her own introduction is decidedly limited, with certainly no family name of her own to offer. “I was nowhere near … Daggerford, when I set off, but I would hazard a guess that I'm nowhere near the inn where I began my journey either.” Her gaze returns to Svetlana, the mention of a cursed land sharpening her focus. “What is it exactly you mean by cursed?”
“Well thank you miss Svetlana up until I became of your acquaintances —looking at Rufus as well— I was thinking a similar thing these mists unnerve me you see”
Another woman comes into view from the mists and introduces themselves as Rhykal
”I must agree I was heading north to Neverwinter from Waterdeep it wouldn’t make sense for me to be further South, though being further inland to Barovia is just as confusing… My navigational skills must be worst than I thought if I am unable to even follow the coast north.” He speaks with much amusement a broad grin on his face
‘I hope at least one of them is better at way finding then myself. The sooner we get out of this mist the better that flying monstrosity might come back’
Hearing a pleasant interaction up ahead, Ansur walks towards the forming group maul slung over his shoulder with a bit of disappointment on his face as he strokes his beard“here was expectin to start my hunt…how’re yeh folks? I’m guessing you all were duped into comin here?”
He stands a few feet away still alert to what else might come their way, “these mists are nuthin like I’ve seen before. Feels like a bad omen….Names Ansur, I was trekking through the wilds when the mist appeared.”
Rufus nods his head toward Radallion. “Radallion, Fabulous traveling musician. No doubt your talent is unrivaled. Alas, my… work doesn’t grant me frequent opportunity to take in musical performances and I am woefully unexposed to current tastes. Perhaps if you are performing in Daggerford, I will have a chance to attend.”
“Hello Rhykal. What do you mean you were nowhere near Daggerford? Where do you believe you are?”
Listening to Svetlana, Radallion, and Ansur, Rufus’s expression goes from interested to concerned. Extremely concerned. “Waterdeep! That’s nowhere near here...” He turns around, trying to find any familiar feature in the strange woods. “But I just came from there!” He points behind him, into the seemingly endless mist. “You’re saying that we’ve all entered this wood from wildly different locations? But how? Why? I was only responding to this letter.” Rufus reaches for the sealed parchment he found earlier on the window ledge of his laboratory. “It told me to, well, to enter the mist. I just had a, a feeling, and so I gathered my journeyman’s gear and entered the wood. I certainly didn’t expect to walk into, well, whatever this place is!”
Still hidden, Miralen hears the others begin to introduce themselves and it's clear now that everyone here is just as lost and confused, and all had been travelling from different places, unexpectedly ending up here just as she did. She decides to relax her defenses a little and make her way to the group that's forming.
"I'm Miralen, and I was travelling... Looks like none of us are where we expected to be." The man called Rufus starts to explain that he had been following a letter he received. She quickly reaches for her letter and holds it up. "I, too, was following a letter", she adds, surprise coloring her voice.
As you all begin discussing the new strange environment, a passive perception of 10 or higher allows you to notice the encroaching mist. It envelops your surroundings in a sense haze, but stops in a 60ft diameter around the group. You can now only see up to 30ft in any direction.
“Well is that an interesting coincidence! You see I too was following a letter!” Radallion rummages around in his bag for a while before taking out a piece of parchment and a ripped envelope. His smile fades slightly as he looks at it before he puts it away smiling again “I wouldn’t suppose that the flying creature also received a letter as well?” He says jokingly
Rhykal is halfway to considering how much information she’s really interested in sharing with strangers, however friendly seeming, when her focus is instead drawn to Rufus’ letter — and then, abruptly, to the letter of the newest individual, which certainly gives credence to the possibility that there may be others still lurking just out of sight. Of course. Gods, how could she be so stupid, to let guilt and hope so thoroughly overwhelm reason and sense? Of course the letter isn’t real; of course it had been some kind of impossible ruse, meant to deliver her here. But that raises more questions than it answers, namely: who would have known enough to send that letter, and how? And why?
“I received an … interesting letter as well,” she admits, once Radallion pulls out his own. “So perhaps the magic that must have brought us all here is attached to the letters themselves—” She cuts herself off, however, at the unexpected encroachment of the mist, hand returning to the hilt of her greatsword. It seems like a decidedly bad sign, and the situation has been wearing on her patience enough as is. “Maybe it’s best we turn our attention to finding a way out of this place,” she says, taking a few steps forward and reaching her free hand to grasp the amulet around her neck, silently sensing for any familiar dangers nearby, notably within the group.
Rhykal is going ahead and using Divine Sense, because paranoia.
Rhykal is going ahead and using Divine Sense, because paranoia.
As Rhykal grasps at the amulet around her neck, a faint glow emanates from within it. Rhykal takes a moment to perceive the divine... and finds a sickly smell that lay over the entire land. She can not place a particular source of evil or good, no creatures within her sight, and no objects that have been consecrated or desecrated. but a pure, evil odor lingers in this wilderness.
As the group grows and it becomes increasingly clear that everyone has been attracted by a letter, Svetlana shudders... "All attracted by a personal letter..." she reflects aloud "Yes, I know, shut up! I need to think!" she then blurts out, suddenly, even if it is not clear who she is addressing "Sorry, I wasn't talking to you..." she turns back to the newcomers, with a clear effort of concentration "Yes, I was lured too by a letter. The only difference is that I already lived in Barovia, in this cursed land".
"What I mean by 'cursed', you ask?" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens responds to the brown skinned tall woman "I mean that in this country you breathe terror and violence together with the air. I mean that the soil of this country must have drunk more blood than water, since it was created. I mean that these fogs, so thick and frequent that one often fears that one day the sun might decide to stop fighting and never rise again, prevent people from leaving this country. Yes, they trap. I knew that, occasionally, people they may come from outside... that's what just happened to you all, I guess... but once one enters Barovia, one can never leave. Never again. And becomes just another hostage of the almighty Lord of this Land, the cruel and ruthless Count Stradh von Zarovich , not surprisingly called (though obviously not in his presence) Devil Stradh".
Upon seeing Ansur and Miralen, Svetlana is astonished: "A man of unusual proportions... more sturdy, but quite less tall..." she comments "...and a little girl!" but then something in the awareness in the other's eyes - and in the fact that she exhibits an adult attitude - leads her to change her hypothesis: "No, not a little girl... A woman in a child's body. What happened to you? A witch cast a spell on you?”
Explanation to players: In Barovia there are no Dwarves or Halflings, so Svetlana sees them for the first time in her life... that's why she is mistaking them for humans 'transformed' by the supernatural.
At Radallion's joke, the Savage Wanderer can't help but smile, despite everything. Finding someone capable of joking in the middle of a distressing situation isn't really an everyday thing. “No, Radallion,” she explains in a soft and naturally musical voice “I don't think the Wereraven received a letter of his own. Truth be told, I hope he might have been the one who invited us all, hopefully for a good purpose of his. Wereravens are secretive and extraordinarily cautious... but they strive to do good whenever possible. For this reason, I hope that the invitation came from him... Because the alternative..." she grits her teeth, almost preparing to fight at any moment "The alternative is that the Devil Stradh invited us all - to play cruelly with us... and kill us once he gets tired".
"Don't let this happen, Svetlana! You are our last hope! We live in you!" “Use these strangers as expendable pawns and escape at the first opportunity!” "I have no intention of doing this!" her gaze runs briefly to the others, as if she were afraid that they could read her thoughts - and even those that are not hers but which still invade her head "They are innocent like you were! Should I abandon them in the middle of this place of which they don't know anything?! We will stay together". "You will put us in danger, Svetlana! We are more important! We are your people!" "May I point out, though, that they are at least less annoying?"
"Be that as it may," the last of the Dusk Elf maidens, having once again managed to momentarily calm the Voices in her head, notes "the fog has us surrounded now". She prepares the bow, as a precaution. "It's best that we wait to see if it dissolves... and if it doesn't," she sighs "we'll look for a way out together. Whoever called us here and whatever their intentions, it's clear that we're in this situation together... So it's best for us to join forces".
Rufus frowns. "Six letters. For six unfortunates. To be lured into a magical prison. But why would this Count be interested in us? My family name is well known in Daggerford, but it has grown much diminished compared to what it once was. And in my lifetime. Surely he does not expect ransom? What did your letters say? Mine appears to be from a deceased relative--my elder brother, Edgar--" Alarmed, Rufus turns his back to the group and raises his crossbow to the mist. "Be on guard. This accursed mist is getting closer. If it swallows us, who's to say what will become of us next? I agree, my dear Svetlana, whatever talents we may possess, let us now apply them jointly in the interest of our collective safety."
That's all for Svetlana, until she gets a better idea of who the others are and whether they are a threat to her or not.
Svetlana processes furiously in her mind regarding what it is she just saw. Although it was lightly obscured through the fog... a Wereraven, perhaps?
As Rhykal Calls out to the new figure approaching the center of the crossroads, she makes herself known to all.
Seeing he’s surrounded Ansur lets out a brief grumble as he snarls at those undefined figures. “Oi! An ambush is it?! Couldn’t fight me by your lonesome beastie. Come at me.” He taunts the figures as he inspects his surroundings.
I’m unsure if he can distinguish what others have said due to distance, but he’d prepare the attack action as he holds his ground in the middle of the cross roads.
What reveals itself to be a mysterious winged creature suddenly disappears and Miralen sees several new figures appear, surrounding her. Just as quick as she's seen them, some have taken cover, and sensing possible danger and uncertainty she hurries to take cover behind the nearest tree, keeping her bow ready and prepared for an attack.
Move, Hide
Stealth: 21
As everyone takes their actions to further reveal themselves or hide, it is apparent that many are confused, no one is particularly hostile, and one even announces themselves as peaceful.
At this point we can abandon Initiative order, and we can move in to a bit of free Dialogue and RP as you all go about introducing yourselves in your own way. I will interject only when there is a roll being made, or a question being asked!
Svetlana initially hid... because in Barovia there are only two kinds of people: the cautious ones and the dead ones. However, seeing how the newcomers behave, it is apparent that many are confused, no one is particularly hostile... and what convinces her most is the young man with the flute who jokingly considers the idea of being crazy and claims to be coming in peace.
"He comes from the mists... He has the quick wit to joke... And he talks about peace..." thinks the last of the Dusk Elf maidens "Maybe he's one of those poor guys who every now and then get captured by the Mists, who are from Outside. Perhaps the new plaything of the Devil Stradh?"
As every time her thoughts turn to their executioner, her voices are unleashed, overwhelming her with contrasting feelings and exhortations:
"Don't talk to him, Svetlana! If the Devil Stradh comes after him you must avoid him! Or he will discover you too!"
“Stay hidden, Svetlana!”
"I can't stay hidden and not care! Don't you see how young and…inexperienced he is? He just got here! He doesn't deserve…whatever is about to happen to him".
"Let the Wereraven help him! Don't meddle!"
"Maybe the Wereraven led me here, to these strangers... to make me find what I would have struggled to find in Barovia: help and allies. I need both, if I want to survive".
"And avenge us all".
"Svetlana is right, maybe strangers can help us".
"But it's dangerous..."
“Missing an opportunity to get help also is”.
Having made her decision, the woman with long brown hair (which covers her ears incompletely) and dressed in rough skins, without any armor, emerges from the foliage with the same naturalness as if she, until the moment before, had been part of it, instead of just hidden. She keeps her hands visible, away from the few weapons she carries with her, just a shortbow slung over her shoulder and a shortsword sheathed at her side. She turns her finely chiseled face and, above all, her curious (and perhaps... concerned?) azure eyes towards each of the newcomers one by one.
"You... You're not from Vallaki, are you?" she tries to ask, addressing everyone "Or worse... You're not even from Barovia, I assume? You have no idea what Barovia is and how you ended up here?"
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens approaches Radallion anyway and holds out her hand with an uncertain smile: "I'm Svetlana, anyway. Pleasure to meet you - as much as it is possible to find pleasure in Barovia". She then also addresses the others "Pleasure to meet you all too".
Rufus steps carefully out from behind his tree. He navigates over the stones and tree roots and toward the clearing. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, lowering his crossbow to point toward the earth.
Rufus is tall and lean, dressed in aged, slightly worn gentleman's clothes that reveal the slightest fraying at the seams. He favors lengthy sleeves in the old styling, with a faded, white undercoat that rides high up his neck and extends to the very ends of his wrists. His hands are fitted with dark leather gloves, the tips cut to reveal pale, manicured fingernails. His leggings are slim and elegant, a pair of dark woolen pants tucked into sturdy, low-heeled walking boots, themselves wrapped in leathern spats secured by a series of buckles running up his shins. None of his flesh, other than that of his face, is exposed.
He appears to be in his mid thirties. Still, the weight of his hard, gray-washed existence shows, as his skin is tired-looking, his face gaunt and bearing a ghastly pallor of the skin. He sports dark hair and a gentryman's moustache, all revealing premature signs of gray. With its gossamer texture, his hair seems to float rather than fall above his crown. Dark circles coalesce beneath his eyes like gathering clouds, and crow lines etch their way around their periphery.
He smiles at you then, though it is the mirthless expression of one who is merely resigned to their existence. He carries the stillness of the grave, for all about him there is an air of melancholy, as though the sun were ever so reluctant to shine in his direction.
"Hello," he says with a little bow. Even in such strange circumstances, gentlemanly etiquette comes automatically. "Greetings to you all. My name is Rufus van Hildegoath, of House van Hildegoath of Daggerford, son of Cornelius van Hildegoath, though he rest in peace, and his ladywife, my mother, Winifred van Hildegoath."
He looks to Svetlana. A wildling, tribeswoman, huntress, shaman? "Svetlana. The pleasure is mine. But I fear you are mistaken. Barovia, you say? No, we are adjacent to my family's, the van Hildegoath, estate, on the outlaying moors of Daggerford. I was, ah..." he notices his crossbow. "...inspecting the property for predators. And you others?" He looks around to those not hidden. "May I ask with whom I am so fortunate to meet this foggy day?"
Would I know anything of Barovia? History: 10
‘Well I must say they certainly look real’ Radallion thinks as he walks closer “Ahhha!” A woman emerges from nowhere right in front of him making him jump in surprise. Clutching his chest he takes a moment to recover. Quickly regaining his composure once she starts introducing herself. When she reaches out to shake his hand he takes it dropping to one knee and kisses it. Still down on the ground he says “I am Radallion! Fabulous traveling musician it is a pleasure miss Svetlana your beauty is a sight to behold“ He lets go of her hand and stands back up with flourish. “I am from Neverwinter and wasn’t aware that I was in Barovia“ he looks around at the trees and area and jumps again when someone else emerges from the trees though this time he manages to not scream. When the newcomer introduces himself he replies “It is a honor to meet a man of noble family” he bows deeply “I am Radallion! Fabulous traveling musician you may have heard of me!”
"So I was not the only one to have given priority to prudence..." thinks Svetlana, when Rufus steps carefully out from behind his tree.
However, when, surprising her, Radallion kisses her hand and compliments her on her beauty, the last of the Dusk Elf maidens blushes in embarrassment... The last suitor she had had done a horrible thing to her . After that, she had been like her dead for a long time. Since she had begun to live again, she had had to distrust most creatures (if not defend herself from them) rather than enjoy their courtesy. Caught unprepared, she tries to slow down her rapidly accelerating heartbeat and responds to the kind traveling musician, smiling this time more openly and confidently: "Oh, you are really so kind, Radallion... This cursed land could certainly use your cheerfulness and kindness - it's you, on the other hand, who had no need to end up here..." she seems worried again "...but I... We... Oh, I don't know... Maybe something can be done" she tries to look determined.
"Yes, of course... We can do something to escape from the Mists..." Svetlana mentally criticizes herself for her absurd hopes "Kill the Devil Stradh, for example... Why not?"
Although with less impetus than usual, her Voices in her head promptly intervene:
"Yes, Svetlana! Maybe with the right allies it can be done!"
"The Devil Stradh must pay for what he has done!"
"My daughter! She was only five years old! And that murderous lackey with the pike took her and..."
Horrible memories pour into her consciousness - memories that are not hers, but which revive in an instant in her mind like a kaleidoscope of horror.
The savage wanderer recovers, realizing that she has taken on a pained expression and that she has brought her hands to her temples. She understands that Rufus has not yet realized the horrible truth. He still believes he is close to home. He doesn't know that he has probably lost it forever and will never see it again. She is in doubt whether it is better to insist immediately or rather let him realize the ruthless truth on his own...
The lack of threat perhaps unnerves Rhykal more than anything else; if she relaxes, she does so only minutely, her gaze darting between the figures she sees. Their (rather extensive) introductions are enough to convince her to lower her sword, carefully sheathing it at her side, though they do not quiet her growing unease.
As she takes several more steps forward, emerging distinctly into view, it is clear she cuts a somewhat tall figure — at least, as human women are concerned — with dark, curly hair pulled back from her face, deep brown skin, and golden-brown eyes that flick from person to person before staring back into the mist that surrounds them, as if it might yet shed further secrets — or further figures, less prone to introduction. But perhaps she needn’t look into the mists at all; this Svetlana, more than the others, seems she might know something, though the name of the locations means little to Rhykal.
“My name is Rhykal,” she offers, in response to Rufus’ question; unsettled as she is, she forces herself to return to some version of courtesy, though her own introduction is decidedly limited, with certainly no family name of her own to offer. “I was nowhere near … Daggerford, when I set off, but I would hazard a guess that I'm nowhere near the inn where I began my journey either.” Her gaze returns to Svetlana, the mention of a cursed land sharpening her focus. “What is it exactly you mean by cursed?”
“Well thank you miss Svetlana up until I became of your acquaintances —looking at Rufus as well— I was thinking a similar thing these mists unnerve me you see”
Another woman comes into view from the mists and introduces themselves as Rhykal
”I must agree I was heading north to Neverwinter from Waterdeep it wouldn’t make sense for me to be further South, though being further inland to Barovia is just as confusing… My navigational skills must be worst than I thought if I am unable to even follow the coast north.” He speaks with much amusement a broad grin on his face
‘I hope at least one of them is better at way finding then myself. The sooner we get out of this mist the better that flying monstrosity might come back’
Hearing a pleasant interaction up ahead, Ansur walks towards the forming group maul slung over his shoulder with a bit of disappointment on his face as he strokes his beard“here was expectin to start my hunt…how’re yeh folks? I’m guessing you all were duped into comin here?”
He stands a few feet away still alert to what else might come their way, “these mists are nuthin like I’ve seen before. Feels like a bad omen….Names Ansur, I was trekking through the wilds when the mist appeared.”
Rufus nods his head toward Radallion. “Radallion, Fabulous traveling musician. No doubt your talent is unrivaled. Alas, my… work doesn’t grant me frequent opportunity to take in musical performances and I am woefully unexposed to current tastes. Perhaps if you are performing in Daggerford, I will have a chance to attend.”
“Hello Rhykal. What do you mean you were nowhere near Daggerford? Where do you believe you are?”
Listening to Svetlana, Radallion, and Ansur, Rufus’s expression goes from interested to concerned. Extremely concerned. “Waterdeep! That’s nowhere near here...” He turns around, trying to find any familiar feature in the strange woods. “But I just came from there!” He points behind him, into the seemingly endless mist. “You’re saying that we’ve all entered this wood from wildly different locations? But how? Why? I was only responding to this letter.” Rufus reaches for the sealed parchment he found earlier on the window ledge of his laboratory. “It told me to, well, to enter the mist. I just had a, a feeling, and so I gathered my journeyman’s gear and entered the wood. I certainly didn’t expect to walk into, well, whatever this place is!”
Still hidden, Miralen hears the others begin to introduce themselves and it's clear now that everyone here is just as lost and confused, and all had been travelling from different places, unexpectedly ending up here just as she did. She decides to relax her defenses a little and make her way to the group that's forming.
"I'm Miralen, and I was travelling... Looks like none of us are where we expected to be." The man called Rufus starts to explain that he had been following a letter he received. She quickly reaches for her letter and holds it up. "I, too, was following a letter", she adds, surprise coloring her voice.
As you all begin discussing the new strange environment, a passive perception of 10 or higher allows you to notice the encroaching mist. It envelops your surroundings in a sense haze, but stops in a 60ft diameter around the group. You can now only see up to 30ft in any direction.
“Well is that an interesting coincidence! You see I too was following a letter!” Radallion rummages around in his bag for a while before taking out a piece of parchment and a ripped envelope. His smile fades slightly as he looks at it before he puts it away smiling again “I wouldn’t suppose that the flying creature also received a letter as well?” He says jokingly
Rhykal is halfway to considering how much information she’s really interested in sharing with strangers, however friendly seeming, when her focus is instead drawn to Rufus’ letter — and then, abruptly, to the letter of the newest individual, which certainly gives credence to the possibility that there may be others still lurking just out of sight. Of course. Gods, how could she be so stupid, to let guilt and hope so thoroughly overwhelm reason and sense? Of course the letter isn’t real; of course it had been some kind of impossible ruse, meant to deliver her here. But that raises more questions than it answers, namely: who would have known enough to send that letter, and how? And why?
“I received an … interesting letter as well,” she admits, once Radallion pulls out his own. “So perhaps the magic that must have brought us all here is attached to the letters themselves—” She cuts herself off, however, at the unexpected encroachment of the mist, hand returning to the hilt of her greatsword. It seems like a decidedly bad sign, and the situation has been wearing on her patience enough as is. “Maybe it’s best we turn our attention to finding a way out of this place,” she says, taking a few steps forward and reaching her free hand to grasp the amulet around her neck, silently sensing for any familiar dangers nearby, notably within the group.
Rhykal is going ahead and using Divine Sense, because paranoia.
As Rhykal grasps at the amulet around her neck, a faint glow emanates from within it. Rhykal takes a moment to perceive the divine... and finds a sickly smell that lay over the entire land. She can not place a particular source of evil or good, no creatures within her sight, and no objects that have been consecrated or desecrated. but a pure, evil odor lingers in this wilderness.
As the group grows and it becomes increasingly clear that everyone has been attracted by a letter, Svetlana shudders... "All attracted by a personal letter..." she reflects aloud "Yes, I know, shut up! I need to think!" she then blurts out, suddenly, even if it is not clear who she is addressing "Sorry, I wasn't talking to you..." she turns back to the newcomers, with a clear effort of concentration "Yes, I was lured too by a letter. The only difference is that I already lived in Barovia, in this cursed land".
"What I mean by 'cursed', you ask?" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens responds to the brown skinned tall woman "I mean that in this country you breathe terror and violence together with the air. I mean that the soil of this country must have drunk more blood than water, since it was created. I mean that these fogs, so thick and frequent that one often fears that one day the sun might decide to stop fighting and never rise again, prevent people from leaving this country. Yes, they trap. I knew that, occasionally, people they may come from outside... that's what just happened to you all, I guess... but once one enters Barovia, one can never leave. Never again. And becomes just another hostage of the almighty Lord of this Land, the cruel and ruthless Count Stradh von Zarovich , not surprisingly called (though obviously not in his presence) Devil Stradh".
Upon seeing Ansur and Miralen, Svetlana is astonished: "A man of unusual proportions... more sturdy, but quite less tall..." she comments "...and a little girl!" but then something in the awareness in the other's eyes - and in the fact that she exhibits an adult attitude - leads her to change her hypothesis: "No, not a little girl... A woman in a child's body. What happened to you? A witch cast a spell on you?”
Explanation to players: In Barovia there are no Dwarves or Halflings, so Svetlana sees them for the first time in her life... that's why she is mistaking them for humans 'transformed' by the supernatural.
At Radallion's joke, the Savage Wanderer can't help but smile, despite everything. Finding someone capable of joking in the middle of a distressing situation isn't really an everyday thing. “No, Radallion,” she explains in a soft and naturally musical voice “I don't think the Wereraven received a letter of his own. Truth be told, I hope he might have been the one who invited us all, hopefully for a good purpose of his. Wereravens are secretive and extraordinarily cautious... but they strive to do good whenever possible. For this reason, I hope that the invitation came from him... Because the alternative..." she grits her teeth, almost preparing to fight at any moment "The alternative is that the Devil Stradh invited us all - to play cruelly with us... and kill us once he gets tired".
"Don't let this happen, Svetlana! You are our last hope! We live in you!"
“Use these strangers as expendable pawns and escape at the first opportunity!”
"I have no intention of doing this!" her gaze runs briefly to the others, as if she were afraid that they could read her thoughts - and even those that are not hers but which still invade her head "They are innocent like you were! Should I abandon them in the middle of this place of which they don't know anything?! We will stay together".
"You will put us in danger, Svetlana! We are more important! We are your people!"
"May I point out, though, that they are at least less annoying?"
"Be that as it may," the last of the Dusk Elf maidens, having once again managed to momentarily calm the Voices in her head, notes "the fog has us surrounded now". She prepares the bow, as a precaution. "It's best that we wait to see if it dissolves... and if it doesn't," she sighs "we'll look for a way out together. Whoever called us here and whatever their intentions, it's clear that we're in this situation together... So it's best for us to join forces".
Rufus frowns. "Six letters. For six unfortunates. To be lured into a magical prison. But why would this Count be interested in us? My family name is well known in Daggerford, but it has grown much diminished compared to what it once was. And in my lifetime. Surely he does not expect ransom? What did your letters say? Mine appears to be from a deceased relative--my elder brother, Edgar--" Alarmed, Rufus turns his back to the group and raises his crossbow to the mist. "Be on guard. This accursed mist is getting closer. If it swallows us, who's to say what will become of us next? I agree, my dear Svetlana, whatever talents we may possess, let us now apply them jointly in the interest of our collective safety."