“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Mittens whispers back to Uncia. Well, it looked like they were all just going have to trust each other for now, though the creepy girl riding around on the broom still unnerved him.
Mittens listens with rapt attention as Svetlana speakers of Strahd. He sounded like real upstanding guy. A scowl forms on his face more he hears about the Count over the land. He hates people that thought just because they had power, they could do whatever they wanted.
He’s relieved to hear that they’re not too far from a town. The sooner they got out of this spooked-forest, the better. He was half expecting some ghosts to materialize and attack them, and he jumps again when Hazel descends from the mists above. When she’s done giving her report, Mittens shivers. Great, so she was creepy and liked talking fancy. What a great combo.
When Loring talks about following the trail, Mittens shrugs and says, “Sounds good to me. Better than staying in a haunted forest.”
Turning his attention to the Barovian native, Mittens asks, “So who’s this Strahd guy? You keep calling him ‘the Devil,’ but is he like an actual devil from the Nine Hells, or is he just some psycho?”
"Thank you, girl" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens nods her head with gratitude and smiles. "Don't you want to tell us your name too? I'd like to be able to call you by your name". [[ OOC: Hazel hasn't said it yet ]]
'Svetlana, really...' the Voices in her head try to advise 'Are you feeling sympathy for that monster?' 'Can't you see that she is more like a dead girl than a living one!?' 'She's undead, Svetlana! Stay away!' 'You all also are dead!' the savage wanderer replies 'So should I stay away from you too!?'
"Anyway, yes," Svetlana then begins to lead the group along the identified path "reaching these 'roofs' seems to me to be the least worst of the options we have at the moment".
During the journey, the savage wanderer replies to Lorin: "As much as I am a native of Barovia, I don't have the answers to all the questions... In particular, I don't know how deep the relationship between the Vistani and the Devil Stradh is. But everyone knows that to oppose the Devil Stradh means to die. Typically in a painful way. I, therefore, believe that it will be difficult to leave with them. If they won't refuse out of loyalty, they will refuse out of fear. However," she shrugs "it is something we might put on the list of things to try".
"Oh, why did I end up here with you?" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens seems to meditate, perplexed and troubled "It happened to me as it did to you... The mists. I went into them - I was being chased, so, as much as I don't like the mists, at the time they seemed to me the lesser evil. I managed not to get caught, but, when I woke up, I was in this place, where you also arrived. I don't know if it was a coincidence... or" she shivers visibly "if the Mists deliberately gave hunt me too".
"And about the near impossible battle. Lorin..." Svetlana sighs "You think too highly of me if you hope I know a way to beat the Devil Stradh. The way - if it exists - we will have to find together. I preferred to add the term 'near', because talking about a simply 'impossible' battle wouldn't have been very encouraging, right? While we, instead, will need courage..."
The savage wanderer obviously also finds time to respond to Mittens: "The appearance that the Count has is that of a human being. I don't know if this is just... a mask, a shell, a shroud. I don't know what he actually is. I admit that I don't even have a deep understanding of real Devils. He is called 'Devil Stradh' because of his infamous soul and acts. And, to tell the truth, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if I discovered that there are real Devils who are less cruel than him".
As you all begin to follow the trail southwards through the forest, it doesn't take very long before you realize something is wrong. The noblewoman on the horse has quite disappeared. You could've sworn she was just with you but the next...nothing. It as if the very mists themselves swallowed both her and her steed. The air has a chill to it, and the forest is unnaturally quiet as you walk, dead leaves crunching underfoot. Hazel's vantage point had shown her that the mists lay in all directions for as far as the eye can see, mostly unbroken. The sky was as gray as the mists. Clouds hung heavy and dark. What sunlight there is barely penetrates the deepest parts of the forest, leaving them in perpetual twilight.
'A heartbreaking scene...' the last of the Dusk Elf maidens quickly thinks, as she looks frantically around 'Probably created to get the attention of the poor well-meaning victim - and surprise them'. 'So, what will you do, Svetlana?' the Voices in her head arise readily. 'You're going to ignore them, right?' 'Even if they are children... As our little elves were...' Flashbacks of pain and blood follow one another. Images that Svetlana didn't remember remembering. Scenes too gruesome to remember. In fact they are not memories of hers. Or they weren't, at least. She hopes that soon they will no longer be. 'But they're not elf children!' 'I can't just leave them there!' decides the only one of the Dusk Elf maidens who is still alive 'If they were alive and real, I could never forgive myself!' 'No, wait, Svetlana! At least send your traveling companions in your place... Sevtlana!'
If the savage wanderer sees no immediate threats or signs of a trap...
If the savage wanderer sees no immediate threats or signs of a trap
...She goes, ignoring the storm of Voices in her head, and reaches the two children, bending over them, a shield in one hand, but the other open to caress the hairs of the two poor little survivors: "Come on, little ones" she looks at them sweetly with her azure eyes. "Everything will be fine! Are you hungry? Shall we prepare something to eat? So in the meantime, will you tell me and my friends what happened here?"
As Svetlana approaches, the boy cowers behind his sister. After shushing the boy, the girl turns to you and says, “There’s a monster in our house!” She then points to a tall brick row house that has seen better days. Its windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor, and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.
"Thank you, girl" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens nods her head with gratitude and smiles. "Don't you want to tell us your name too? I'd like to be able to call you by your name". [[ OOC: Hazel hasn't said it yet ]]
As you all begin to follow the trail southwards through the forest, it doesn't take very long before you realize something is wrong. The noblewoman on the horse has quite disappeared. You could've sworn she was just with you but the next...nothing. It as if the very mists themselves swallowed both her and her steed. The air has a chill to it, and the forest is unnaturally quiet as you walk, dead leaves crunching underfoot. Hazel's vantage point had shown her that the mists lay in all directions for as far as the eye can see, mostly unbroken. The sky was as gray as the mists. Clouds hung heavy and dark. What sunlight there is barely penetrates the deepest parts of the forest, leaving them in perpetual twilight.
The overgrown trail eventually leads to a village, its tall houses dark as tombstones. Nestled among these solemn dwellings are a handful of closed-up shops. Even the tavern is shut tight. The silence feels unnatural.
As the mists seemed to claim the noblewoman, Nyssa, in their cold embrace, a thin veil of unease settled over Hazel. Her gaze lingered on the spot where the woman had vanished, the stillness of the air echoing the sudden emptiness in their midst. With a gentle shake of her head, as if to clear the fog from her own thoughts as well as the path, Hazel turned her attention back to Svetlana, acknowledging her earlier query with a small, subdued smile.
"My apologies for the oversight in courtesy," Hazel began, her voice soft, almost blending with the whisper of the leaves underfoot. "I am Hazel Harkness, and though names often carry little weight in places such as these, I hope mine will serve well in binding us against the shadows we seem to be stepping into."
As the group moved southward, each step seemed to press deeper into the realm of gloom that blanketed the village like a shroud. Hazel's eyes, accustomed to spotting the faintest glimmers in the darkest nights, surveyed the desolate houses that loomed like silent guardians of forgotten tales. The air, thick with the scent of dampness and decay, seemed to press against her skin, a tactile reminder of the unnatural stillness that enveloped the village.
Upon encountering the children, Hazel's heart, a pendulum swaying between empathy and caution, leaned towards the former. The girl's words, simple yet laden with the weight of fear, stirred something in Hazel—a remembrance of her own fears, woven into the fabric of her rebirth. Approaching slowly, mindful of the children's evident distress, Hazel crouched to bring herself to their eye level, offering a smile that hoped to be reassuring despite the grimness of their surroundings.
"You are brave to speak of such terrors," Hazel addressed the girl, her tone imbued with a sincerity that the ragged edges of her own life had honed. "Monsters, whether of our houses or our hearts, find power in silence. Speaking of them is the first step in turning them away."
Her gaze shifted to the dilapidated row house the girl had pointed out, the dark windows like hollow eyes watching their every move. "We will look into this monster of yours," Hazel continued her voice a murmur meant to comfort. "No shadow is too dark for light to find, and no door is barred so tightly that hope cannot enter. We will see what can be done, and ensure you and your brother need not fear your own home."
With that, Hazel stood, her figure slender and pale against the backdrop of the foreboding village, ready to face whatever lay behind the rusted gates, driven by the faint yet unyielding flicker of hope that even in places as forsaken as this, something akin to peace might still be found.
Although Uncia's expectations hadn't been high, the village Svetlana led them to managed to dash even those. It looked downright abandoned, the buildings it consisted of boarded up and abandoned. Still, perhaps they could still make something of it. If they could force their way inside, they'd at least have a roof over their head for the night. Uncia doubted anyone was still around to make a fuss about the party trying to find shelter for an evening . . . and then she saw the two children crying in the middle of the street.
Before Uncia could move to stop them, Svetlana and Hazel clearly moved by pity over reason, quickly moved to offer the children help, offering them shares of their limited supplies and help with the monster they claimed was in their house. Now Uncia wasn't saying they should leave the kids there, but with kids that young, a monster could mean anything, and there was no reason to go charging into danger for no reason. "Hey, hey," she called, trying to forestall Svetlana and Hazel's rush into battle. "I'm not saying we shouldn't help out kids, but what did they really see here? Some long shadows and branches rapping on the walls? I mean, whatever they saw, it seems pretty content to stay inside their house. We could just go stay somewhere else for the night." Call Uncia cowardly, but she saw no reason to borrow trouble, especially at times like this.
"No need to apologize, Hazel" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens had smiled, in the woods, before arriving at the ruined village. "I would say that formalities can wait, when you suddenly and inexplicably find yourself in the middle of a dark and dangerous place".
Now, hearing Hazel try to console the children with poetic words of comfort and suggest that the party go after their monster, Svetlana proudly fixes her azure eyes on her: "You're a really wonderful girl, Hazel. I'm glad to having met you". She tries to caress her shoulder with a slow and affectionate movement of her slender hand... but she is attentive to the other's reaction - if the other seems reluctant or in any case shows not to like the gesture, she stops.
Only then does Svetlana realize that Nyssa - with her horse to boot! - has inexplicably disappeared in the Mists. "Did you see where Nyssa went? She was in last place, I think, she was following us... she couldn't have lost sight of us..." She tries to call her, even briefly tries to look for her nearby... but in vain.
'The Devil Stradh, Svetlana!' the Voices in her head are immediately worried 'The Count has come hunting...' 'He must have caught her in a moment she stopped!' 'The Devil Stradh... or some other predator sent by him!' 'We told you not to join these creatures, Svetlana...' 'Whoever took Nyssa,' the savage wanderer stubbornly replies 'did it because she stayed too far behind. The ghostly elf, Lorryn... He's right; there is strength in numbers'.
Be that as it may, it's clear that no good can come from wandering back into the Mists, so the last of the Dusk Elf maidens returns to focus on the children... and on Uncia and her wise observations: "I agree with you about one thing, Uncia: certainly, there are many details that sound strange. It's strange that these poor little ones seem to be the only survivors of this village. They should have been more vulnerable to a possible monster than the rest of the adult population... And how did they survive without anyone to take care of them? There is some dark mystery here... Let's try to reassure them and talk to them. Maybe they can explain more later".
Svetlana bends over the children again: "Did you hear my good friend here?" she nods to Hazel "We'll take care of your monster. But in the meantime we have to find a safe place to allow you to wait in safety while we take care of it... Come with us and we'll look for a home where you can shelter from the wind and cold. We will also give you something to eat - you will be hungry for sure!" she tries to hold out her right hand, to take the little girl by the hand (the boy, smaller than her, at that point, should follow her). If the little girl accepts, she does as she proposed and she starts searching, among the various abandoned homes, for one in which the children (and maybe the party also, when they need it) can find refuge for a while.
In the meantime, the savage wanderer asks the children: "I am Svetlana! Svetlana Dinteina! What is your name, dear children? And... can you tell me what happened here? Why you are the only ones left? Now you are with us, you're not alone anymore, but we'd like to understand what happened... It will help us keep you safer and make things right!"
In the shadow of the forsaken house, Hazel's eyes flickered with the light of kindled concern and a touch of sorrow that often skirted the edges of her spirit. Svetlana's words, tinged with warmth and regard, brushed against Hazel's guard like a leaf against a barricade, and though she was unaccustomed to such gestures of familiarity, she allowed the touch, a faint smile gracing her stitched lips as a nod to the comfort offered.
"No, I did not see where Nyssa went," Hazel replied, her voice a hushed murmur amidst the rustling silence of the village. "The mists here are like curtains that close without a sound, hiding away whatever passes behind them. It is troubling... deeply so."Her gaze drifted momentarily towards the thick fog that bordered their path as if expecting it to yield their missing companion at any moment.
Turning her attention back to the children, Hazel crouched once more, her presence a pale wraith of empathy in the twilight of the desolate street. She listened intently as Svetlana spoke, her words a woven tapestry of promise and protection. When the Elf who is not an Elf extended her hand to the little girl, Hazel's heart tightened with a silent plea that it be accepted, that these small, fragile lives could feel the weight of their sincerity and not just the shadow of their plight.
As Svetlana conversed with the children, Hazel remained close, her eyes scanning the derelict buildings that huddled against the oppressive gloom like mourners at the edge of a grave. "Svetlana speaks true," Hazel added, her voice threading through the chill air to reach the young ones. "We are here now, shadows and light together. We will find you a haven from the cold, and no specter or beast shall harm you under our watch."
Her thoughts, however, twined around the darker strands of their situation—the unnatural solitude of the children and the spectral silence that seemed to suffocate the village. "This place," she began, more to herself than to the others, "it holds secrets as old as the stones and as deep as the roots beneath us. Whatever horror haunts your home, it is but a piece of a larger puzzle, a symptom of a sickness we must understand if we are to treat it."
As Svetlana seemed intent on leading the children to potential safety, Hazel followed, her eyes never straying far from the shifting shadows and whispering winds. In her heart, a blend of resolve and dread settled like stones in the water—still, yet ever so heavy. The promise to protect, to uncover, to confront whatever darkness lay ahead, bound her as surely as the magic that coursed through her veins.
Good enough, Lorin decided when Svetlana told she was carried there while being chased. He knew a thing or two about choosing the lesser evil and saw no need to pry further in her past. She was no friend to Strahd and no enemy to anyone there. Lost as the rogue was, that much was everything he could wish for.
“So if it’s impossible we make it possible.” There were worse ways to think about it. That one at least aligned with his intentions of leaving. “It may be worth talking with the Vistani.”
If she didn’t know how deep their loyalty ran, then at least it wasn’t famously unquestionable. Someone amongst them could have lost a friend, maybe a lover, to the tyrant. Someone could like the idea of leaving Barovia with them and a few coins. Or be threatened in doing so. In the dark forest covered in mist things started to look bright.
The elf let the others pass him but still followed close. His gait was one that attempted to hide the very sounds of his steps. His silence made him look as much of a corpse as Hazel, though without her stitches.
“Do you think she was a ghost?” He asked the teddy bear wielder, standing just behind him. “Jokes aside, it looks like the work of the Mists.”It hadn’t been long since his arrival on that strange land, but it was quite clear to him that sudden appearance and disappearances there tended to be caused by this almost living fog. “And a good reason to hurry.”
Didn’t take long for them to find a village but the place made him even more uncomfortable than the forest. All buildings closed, no soul, dead or alive, in the streets. In the air rested a silence that reminded him of the moments before an ambush. Can we even find shelter here? He questioned looking in the direction of the tavern. Then he heard the whimpers and before he could speak his companions stepped closer. In for a copper, in for a gold.
“How long has it been since this monster appeared?” Lorin asked in a gentle tone, kneeling in front of the kids. “Did the village become silent after it appeared?”
The pale elf still thought the villagers were simply hiding, but Svetlana’s words made he consider the possibility of a massacre. A quite clean one.
As Svetlana attempts to lead the children away from the house, the girl balks. The boy's hand remains tightly clutched to his sister's, and he nuzzles his face against his teddy bear. "No!" she says. "We mustn't leave. Mother and Father locked the monster in the basement. We are afraid, but we want to stay here."
The children regard you with big eyes. They seem unsure of the answers to your questions. "My name is Rose, and this is Thorn. We've lived in this house our whole life," she says.
Indeed, even as Svetlana tries to usher the children toward one of the other houses, the mists suddenly seem to encroach from all sides, winding through the village streets like a grey serpent. At the sight of the mist, the children shrink away and take a step toward the house.
To him the confusion of the children was as understandable as it was disappointing. Rose’s answer seemed like proper etiquette, drilled into her by family or a tutor. Her brother’s name sounded unfortunate by comparison – she was the beautiful flower while the boy was a mere projection of wood meant to hurt. A thought better left usaid, the pale elf knew.
“I’m Lorin.”The rogue answered with a half-smile upon his lips. As he turned his eyes towards his companions he saw the state of the streets. “And I’m starting to really hate these Mists.” They could explain was there was no one there. Maybe they were the reason why the buildings were closed. “Could you show us inside of your house?”
Lorin was not avid to help the children. Hells, he wasn’t even sure they were children. Svetlana’s words about Strahd still lingered in his mind. Those two could be disguised servants of the Count or simply an illusion. A finely crafted, complex one but likely to be far from impossible to a man capable to teleport people across a territory so vast that it extended beyond the horizon. Guides meant to usher them into a death game. But they needed shelter from the fog. A closed space, he hoped, would suffice.
The monster is in the basement, he said with the voice of his mind. The entrance is safe, unless it’s trap. Whatever the case, the siblings’ house was the closest place to the group. Who knows? We might just help a family in need. Svetlana and Hazel seemed inclined enough and he had seen enough kids suffering for many lifetimes.
“I take we’re entering?” The pale elf asked the others while rising to his feet. It was a tendency of his, to seek consensus. The effect of years by the shadows of roads, he reflected. From his part there would be no qualms with choosing to break into any of the other apparently empty houses instead.
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens shudders, when the Mists themselves seem to object to the children leaving the house. Everything is disturbing and suspicious. The Mists. The House. And even children. Are they perhaps part of a great deception by the Mists? The Mists, that they want to push their prey (i.e. her and the party) into the house? To be slaughtered by the monster inside? Using children as bait? Or is it even worse? Or are the children... just innocent children, but long dead and unable to reach final rest for some reason?
The Voices in her head rise once again, each with their own idea of how things are, but the savage wanderer, dazed, clearly understands only one thing: the Voices, like her, haven't any certainty. She therefore tries to silence them, to ignore them, to focus on the world outside her head. It is there that she can try to find out more about the matter.
When Svetlana regains control of herself, she realizes that Lorin, who also takes pity on the children, is inclined to enter the house. "Yes, I think we should go in" she replies to the ghostly elf, smiling at him, grateful that he also seems eager to help the two little ones in difficulty.
"Well, Rose, Thorn, I understand" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens tries to sound as reassuring as she can. "You don't want to leave because you think your parents are still in the basement with the monster?" in the meantime she tries to caress the children - both to reassure them and to make sure that they are material and not mere illusions [[ OOC: @DM: Svetlana's hand passes through the children, as if they were illusory? Or does Svetlana feel them 'solid', like real children? ]]"OK, listen to me then: let's make a pact, like between grown-up people. After all, we can see, you are now almost a little girl and a little boy, right?"
"Let's make the pact" the savage wanderer continues "that my friends and I will go into the basement to kill the monster. However, if after killing the monster we don't find your parents, it will mean that they have gone to wait for you somewhere else - so, while waiting to find them, you will come away with us. Deal?" she looks at them with hopeful azure eyes. This way, if Rose and Thorn are two real children, at least they will have a chance to survive... while if they are... something different... then perhaps they will at least be free to go to their final resting place.
“Do you think she was a ghost?” He asked the teddy bear wielder, standing just behind him. “Jokes aside, it looks like the work of the Mists.”It hadn’t been long since his arrival on that strange land, but it was quite clear to him that sudden appearance and disappearances there tended to be caused by this almost living fog. “And a good reason to hurry.”
"I wouldn't be surprised about either option," replies the short tabaxi. He eyes the elven stranger up and down as they commence their journey towards the nearby village. "I'm Mittens by the way," he says as he sidles up besides Lorin, his teddy bear shuffling along behind him. Much to his credit, Mittens manages to only cringe slightly when he says his name. In his opinion, his child name was the most unfortunate ever given in the history of his clan.
Mittens eyes the buildings distrustfully when they enter the solemn town. It felt like an ironic twist of fate for them to escape a haunted forest only to find themselves in an abandoned town. When he notices the two children standing in the street, red flags immediately went off in his mind. Two random kids in an abandoned town saying that there was a monster in their house. Definitely not suspicious at all.
He almost pipes up to oppose even going into the house at all, but then the mists curl predatorily through the streets towards them as Svetlana tries to lead the children into a different building. "This place is 1000% a trap," he calls out to the others when the mists seem to want to corral them into the imposing edifice. "But I'd rather be in there instead of risking being eaten by the mists." He eyes the encroaching mists with an air of wariness, and his teddy bear familiar takes a threatening step towards the mist in an attempt to scare it off. It didn't accomplish much of course, but it was the thought that counted.
As Svetlana touches the children, her hand doesn't pass through them, but she gets a strange sensation nonetheless. It's a feeling of coldness, that the children are somehow insubstantial though they appear to be flesh and blood. As Rose looks at you, however, her expression is one only of genuine fear.
"We won't go inside," Rose says. "Not until the monster is gone. We'll wait here."
As Svetlana lays out the deal, Rose simply nods. Thorn has stopped crying, but he still clutches his sister and the teddy bear tightly. The little boy's eyes go wide when he spots the teddy bear following Mittens.
A wrought-iron gate with hinges on one side and a lock on the other fills the archway of a stone portico. The gate is unlocked, and its rusty hinges shriek when the gate is opened. Oil lamps hang from the portico ceiling by chains, flanking a set of oaken doors. Rose and Thorn huddle together inside the portico.
When you enter the house, you find yourselves in a foyer. Hanging on the south wall of the foyer is a shield emblazoned with a coat-of-arms, flanked by framed portraits of stony-faced aristocrats. There is another set of fine mahogany-framed double doors, set with panes of stained glass, that appears to lead further into the house.
Uncia hadn't realized the mists had taken Nyssa as of yet. She'd noticed the woman was gone, but had assumed she was simply tying up that giant steed of hers somewhere. After all, there would be little point in riding it around the abandoned town when the rest of the party could only go on foot. Noting the others comment on her absence, she suggested as much to them. "Do you think she's maybe just seeing to that horse of hers?" she suggested to them hopefully. Although now that she thought of it, she didn't hear any sounds from the horse either. Odd.
So whatever the "monster" was, it was locked in the basement, securely it would seem from the lack of any noise, and Svetlana and Hazel were apparently comfortable with volunteering all of their help in killing it without even bothering to consult them on the matter. Falling into step besides Mittens, she nodded wearily at his suggestion that this was a trap and called out to Svetlana, "You know, whatever this is, we could always just . . . leave it in the basement? I mean, it doesn't seem to be able to get out." Yeah, the kids' plight was sad and all that, but given the village was empty, the two of them obviously couldn't stay here anyway. Not in the long term, at least. It was only the mist threatening to close in around Uncia that kept her following the party.
Amidst the rising swirl of mist and the shadowed ambiguity of the village, Hazel observed the unfolding dynamics with a perceptiveness honed by her own spectral existence. The children, Rose and Thorn, seemed to epitomize the village’s pervasive air of desolation, their youthful innocence overshadowed by the dark reality of their circumstances.
Hazel listened intently as Svetlana, Lorin, and now Uncia navigated the complexities of trust, suspicion, and practicality. Uncia’s suggestion of possibly leaving the monster contained sparked a new angle of thought in Hazel, though her resolve to confront the entity remained unshaken.
"The mists weave their own tales, stories spun from the fabric of fear and the unknown,"Hazel began, her voice a soft whisper that seemed almost part of the wind. "But within these tales are threads of truth, and it is these threads we must grasp. While leaving the entity contained is a course of action, it is the knowledge of its nature and the safety it threatens that compels us forward."
She looked down at Rose and Thorn, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and faint hope. "Children, your courage in the face of such shadows is a beacon for us all. We will enter your home, confront what lies beneath, and seek the truth of what has transpired here. Your monster, whether born of the mists or a more tangible menace, shall know the strength of those it has sought to terrorize."
Turning to her companions, Hazel's gaze was resolute, a flicker of resolve igniting in her ethereal blue eyes. "We stand at a crossroads of specters and certainties. Let us choose the path that leads not just to survival, but to understanding. For in understanding the nature of our fears, we may yet disarm them."
She approached the children, extending a hand with a gentleness that belied her ghostly pallor. Her touch, meant to reassure them of her tangible intent, also sought to confirm their reality—a beacon of warmth in the chill that enveloped them.
"Let us affirm this pact,"Hazel continued, her tone imbued with a gravity that acknowledged the weight of their agreement. "We will venture into the depths of your fear, and whatever we find, we will face it together. And should we find that your parents are no longer within, we will ensure you are not left to weather these shadows alone."
As the group prepared to enter the house, Hazel's heart, a chamber of echoes and whispers, prepared for the revelations that awaited. Her Wyrwood broom, ever a silent companion, seemed to quiver with the anticipation of the unknown, ready at her side as they stepped toward the threshold of the house that held as much mystery as menace.
"To the reasons that our dear Hazel has already given" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens continues, in response to Uncia "I might add that Mittens, the other... anthropomorphic cat?" she tries [[ OOC: No one has yet told her that the name of the race is 'Tabaxi'... And Tabaxi do not exist in Barovia, so Svetlana does not know that name ]]"If your race has a specific name, tell me, so that I stop going to attempts... Mittens, however, felt the threat of the Mists and that of the house seemed less to him".
“But my main reason to do this, is for Rose and Thorn” Svetlana sighs. "Who they are probably no longer alive. When I touched them... my hand did not pass through them, but I got a strange sensation nonetheless... a feeling of coldness, that the children are somehow insubstantial though they appear to be flesh and blood. I'm afraid that they are dead, Uncia, and that they cannot reach their final rest because of fear. So, I hope that if we eliminate the source of their fear, they will find peace".
"If we didn't do it..." the savage wanderer shudders "Can you imagine, what could it mean for two children to spend an eternity of solitude and uninterrupted fear? I won't simply go away. Not without having first tried to do something".
"Anyway, to clarify..." the last of the Dusk Elf maidens looks at Uncia with a light of empathy and understanding at the bottom of her azure eyes "With the children, I spoke in the plural, I said 'we', to reassure them more - but I certainly don't pretend to force anyone to do what seems best to me. I, after all, have been forced to fight to survive for some time... I've learned to fight - somehow. I'm not a professional warrior, but I know how to hold a weapon in my hand. If someone doesn't think they have the best skills for a monster hunt and would rather stay with the children or even try to leave, I won't think badly of them for it. In fact, I don't think bad at all of those who have skills useful in peace rather than skills useful in war".
Svetlana, at that point, leaves Uncia to decide if she wants to take part in the 'monster hunt'... and focuses on the coat-of-arms of the shield and on the portraits... She, thoughtful, tries to remember any details or facts about the relative house... Perhaps, if she could remember some details about the house and its history, it might be easier to understand which monster may have come to haunt that the house of that family...
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Mittens whispers back to Uncia. Well, it looked like they were all just going have to trust each other for now, though the creepy girl riding around on the broom still unnerved him.
Mittens listens with rapt attention as Svetlana speakers of Strahd. He sounded like real upstanding guy. A scowl forms on his face more he hears about the Count over the land. He hates people that thought just because they had power, they could do whatever they wanted.
He’s relieved to hear that they’re not too far from a town. The sooner they got out of this spooked-forest, the better. He was half expecting some ghosts to materialize and attack them, and he jumps again when Hazel descends from the mists above. When she’s done giving her report, Mittens shivers. Great, so she was creepy and liked talking fancy. What a great combo.
When Loring talks about following the trail, Mittens shrugs and says, “Sounds good to me. Better than staying in a haunted forest.”
Turning his attention to the Barovian native, Mittens asks, “So who’s this Strahd guy? You keep calling him ‘the Devil,’ but is he like an actual devil from the Nine Hells, or is he just some psycho?”
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
"Thank you, girl" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens nods her head with gratitude and smiles. "Don't you want to tell us your name too? I'd like to be able to call you by your name". [[ OOC: Hazel hasn't said it yet ]]
'Svetlana, really...' the Voices in her head try to advise 'Are you feeling sympathy for that monster?'
'Can't you see that she is more like a dead girl than a living one!?'
'She's undead, Svetlana! Stay away!'
'You all also are dead!' the savage wanderer replies 'So should I stay away from you too!?'
"Anyway, yes," Svetlana then begins to lead the group along the identified path "reaching these 'roofs' seems to me to be the least worst of the options we have at the moment".
During the journey, the savage wanderer replies to Lorin: "As much as I am a native of Barovia, I don't have the answers to all the questions... In particular, I don't know how deep the relationship between the Vistani and the Devil Stradh is. But everyone knows that to oppose the Devil Stradh means to die. Typically in a painful way. I, therefore, believe that it will be difficult to leave with them. If they won't refuse out of loyalty, they will refuse out of fear. However," she shrugs "it is something we might put on the list of things to try".
"Oh, why did I end up here with you?" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens seems to meditate, perplexed and troubled "It happened to me as it did to you... The mists. I went into them - I was being chased, so, as much as I don't like the mists, at the time they seemed to me the lesser evil. I managed not to get caught, but, when I woke up, I was in this place, where you also arrived. I don't know if it was a coincidence... or" she shivers visibly "if the Mists deliberately gave hunt me too".
"And about the near impossible battle. Lorin..." Svetlana sighs "You think too highly of me if you hope I know a way to beat the Devil Stradh. The way - if it exists - we will have to find together. I preferred to add the term 'near', because talking about a simply 'impossible' battle wouldn't have been very encouraging, right? While we, instead, will need courage..."
The savage wanderer obviously also finds time to respond to Mittens: "The appearance that the Count has is that of a human being. I don't know if this is just... a mask, a shell, a shroud. I don't know what he actually is. I admit that I don't even have a deep understanding of real Devils. He is called 'Devil Stradh' because of his infamous soul and acts. And, to tell the truth, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if I discovered that there are real Devils who are less cruel than him".
As you all begin to follow the trail southwards through the forest, it doesn't take very long before you realize something is wrong. The noblewoman on the horse has quite disappeared. You could've sworn she was just with you but the next...nothing. It as if the very mists themselves swallowed both her and her steed. The air has a chill to it, and the forest is unnaturally quiet as you walk, dead leaves crunching underfoot. Hazel's vantage point had shown her that the mists lay in all directions for as far as the eye can see, mostly unbroken. The sky was as gray as the mists. Clouds hung heavy and dark. What sunlight there is barely penetrates the deepest parts of the forest, leaving them in perpetual twilight.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
'A heartbreaking scene...' the last of the Dusk Elf maidens quickly thinks, as she looks frantically around 'Probably created to get the attention of the poor well-meaning victim - and surprise them'.
'So, what will you do, Svetlana?' the Voices in her head arise readily.
'You're going to ignore them, right?'
'Even if they are children... As our little elves were...'
Flashbacks of pain and blood follow one another. Images that Svetlana didn't remember remembering. Scenes too gruesome to remember. In fact they are not memories of hers. Or they weren't, at least. She hopes that soon they will no longer be.
'But they're not elf children!'
'I can't just leave them there!' decides the only one of the Dusk Elf maidens who is still alive 'If they were alive and real, I could never forgive myself!'
'No, wait, Svetlana! At least send your traveling companions in your place... Sevtlana!'
If the savage wanderer sees no immediate threats or signs of a trap...
Perception: 9
If the savage wanderer sees no immediate threats or signs of a trap
...She goes, ignoring the storm of Voices in her head, and reaches the two children, bending over them, a shield in one hand, but the other open to caress the hairs of the two poor little survivors: "Come on, little ones" she looks at them sweetly with her azure eyes. "Everything will be fine! Are you hungry? Shall we prepare something to eat? So in the meantime, will you tell me and my friends what happened here?"
As Svetlana approaches, the boy cowers behind his sister. After shushing the boy, the girl turns to you and says, “There’s a monster in our house!” She then points to a tall brick row house that has seen better days. Its windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor, and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
As the mists seemed to claim the noblewoman, Nyssa, in their cold embrace, a thin veil of unease settled over Hazel. Her gaze lingered on the spot where the woman had vanished, the stillness of the air echoing the sudden emptiness in their midst. With a gentle shake of her head, as if to clear the fog from her own thoughts as well as the path, Hazel turned her attention back to Svetlana, acknowledging her earlier query with a small, subdued smile.
"My apologies for the oversight in courtesy," Hazel began, her voice soft, almost blending with the whisper of the leaves underfoot. "I am Hazel Harkness, and though names often carry little weight in places such as these, I hope mine will serve well in binding us against the shadows we seem to be stepping into."
As the group moved southward, each step seemed to press deeper into the realm of gloom that blanketed the village like a shroud. Hazel's eyes, accustomed to spotting the faintest glimmers in the darkest nights, surveyed the desolate houses that loomed like silent guardians of forgotten tales. The air, thick with the scent of dampness and decay, seemed to press against her skin, a tactile reminder of the unnatural stillness that enveloped the village.
Upon encountering the children, Hazel's heart, a pendulum swaying between empathy and caution, leaned towards the former. The girl's words, simple yet laden with the weight of fear, stirred something in Hazel—a remembrance of her own fears, woven into the fabric of her rebirth. Approaching slowly, mindful of the children's evident distress, Hazel crouched to bring herself to their eye level, offering a smile that hoped to be reassuring despite the grimness of their surroundings.
"You are brave to speak of such terrors," Hazel addressed the girl, her tone imbued with a sincerity that the ragged edges of her own life had honed. "Monsters, whether of our houses or our hearts, find power in silence. Speaking of them is the first step in turning them away."
Her gaze shifted to the dilapidated row house the girl had pointed out, the dark windows like hollow eyes watching their every move. "We will look into this monster of yours," Hazel continued her voice a murmur meant to comfort. "No shadow is too dark for light to find, and no door is barred so tightly that hope cannot enter. We will see what can be done, and ensure you and your brother need not fear your own home."
With that, Hazel stood, her figure slender and pale against the backdrop of the foreboding village, ready to face whatever lay behind the rusted gates, driven by the faint yet unyielding flicker of hope that even in places as forsaken as this, something akin to peace might still be found.
Although Uncia's expectations hadn't been high, the village Svetlana led them to managed to dash even those. It looked downright abandoned, the buildings it consisted of boarded up and abandoned. Still, perhaps they could still make something of it. If they could force their way inside, they'd at least have a roof over their head for the night. Uncia doubted anyone was still around to make a fuss about the party trying to find shelter for an evening . . . and then she saw the two children crying in the middle of the street.
Before Uncia could move to stop them, Svetlana and Hazel clearly moved by pity over reason, quickly moved to offer the children help, offering them shares of their limited supplies and help with the monster they claimed was in their house. Now Uncia wasn't saying they should leave the kids there, but with kids that young, a monster could mean anything, and there was no reason to go charging into danger for no reason. "Hey, hey," she called, trying to forestall Svetlana and Hazel's rush into battle. "I'm not saying we shouldn't help out kids, but what did they really see here? Some long shadows and branches rapping on the walls? I mean, whatever they saw, it seems pretty content to stay inside their house. We could just go stay somewhere else for the night." Call Uncia cowardly, but she saw no reason to borrow trouble, especially at times like this.
"No need to apologize, Hazel" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens had smiled, in the woods, before arriving at the ruined village. "I would say that formalities can wait, when you suddenly and inexplicably find yourself in the middle of a dark and dangerous place".
Now, hearing Hazel try to console the children with poetic words of comfort and suggest that the party go after their monster, Svetlana proudly fixes her azure eyes on her: "You're a really wonderful girl, Hazel. I'm glad to having met you". She tries to caress her shoulder with a slow and affectionate movement of her slender hand... but she is attentive to the other's reaction - if the other seems reluctant or in any case shows not to like the gesture, she stops.
Only then does Svetlana realize that Nyssa - with her horse to boot! - has inexplicably disappeared in the Mists. "Did you see where Nyssa went? She was in last place, I think, she was following us... she couldn't have lost sight of us..." She tries to call her, even briefly tries to look for her nearby... but in vain.
'The Devil Stradh, Svetlana!' the Voices in her head are immediately worried 'The Count has come hunting...'
'He must have caught her in a moment she stopped!'
'The Devil Stradh... or some other predator sent by him!'
'We told you not to join these creatures, Svetlana...'
'Whoever took Nyssa,' the savage wanderer stubbornly replies 'did it because she stayed too far behind. The ghostly elf, Lorryn... He's right; there is strength in numbers'.
Be that as it may, it's clear that no good can come from wandering back into the Mists, so the last of the Dusk Elf maidens returns to focus on the children... and on Uncia and her wise observations: "I agree with you about one thing, Uncia: certainly, there are many details that sound strange. It's strange that these poor little ones seem to be the only survivors of this village. They should have been more vulnerable to a possible monster than the rest of the adult population... And how did they survive without anyone to take care of them? There is some dark mystery here... Let's try to reassure them and talk to them. Maybe they can explain more later".
Svetlana bends over the children again: "Did you hear my good friend here?" she nods to Hazel "We'll take care of your monster. But in the meantime we have to find a safe place to allow you to wait in safety while we take care of it... Come with us and we'll look for a home where you can shelter from the wind and cold. We will also give you something to eat - you will be hungry for sure!" she tries to hold out her right hand, to take the little girl by the hand (the boy, smaller than her, at that point, should follow her). If the little girl accepts, she does as she proposed and she starts searching, among the various abandoned homes, for one in which the children (and maybe the party also, when they need it) can find refuge for a while.
In the meantime, the savage wanderer asks the children: "I am Svetlana! Svetlana Dinteina! What is your name, dear children? And... can you tell me what happened here? Why you are the only ones left? Now you are with us, you're not alone anymore, but we'd like to understand what happened... It will help us keep you safer and make things right!"
In the shadow of the forsaken house, Hazel's eyes flickered with the light of kindled concern and a touch of sorrow that often skirted the edges of her spirit. Svetlana's words, tinged with warmth and regard, brushed against Hazel's guard like a leaf against a barricade, and though she was unaccustomed to such gestures of familiarity, she allowed the touch, a faint smile gracing her stitched lips as a nod to the comfort offered.
"No, I did not see where Nyssa went," Hazel replied, her voice a hushed murmur amidst the rustling silence of the village. "The mists here are like curtains that close without a sound, hiding away whatever passes behind them. It is troubling... deeply so." Her gaze drifted momentarily towards the thick fog that bordered their path as if expecting it to yield their missing companion at any moment.
Turning her attention back to the children, Hazel crouched once more, her presence a pale wraith of empathy in the twilight of the desolate street. She listened intently as Svetlana spoke, her words a woven tapestry of promise and protection. When the Elf who is not an Elf extended her hand to the little girl, Hazel's heart tightened with a silent plea that it be accepted, that these small, fragile lives could feel the weight of their sincerity and not just the shadow of their plight.
As Svetlana conversed with the children, Hazel remained close, her eyes scanning the derelict buildings that huddled against the oppressive gloom like mourners at the edge of a grave. "Svetlana speaks true," Hazel added, her voice threading through the chill air to reach the young ones. "We are here now, shadows and light together. We will find you a haven from the cold, and no specter or beast shall harm you under our watch."
Her thoughts, however, twined around the darker strands of their situation—the unnatural solitude of the children and the spectral silence that seemed to suffocate the village. "This place," she began, more to herself than to the others, "it holds secrets as old as the stones and as deep as the roots beneath us. Whatever horror haunts your home, it is but a piece of a larger puzzle, a symptom of a sickness we must understand if we are to treat it."
As Svetlana seemed intent on leading the children to potential safety, Hazel followed, her eyes never straying far from the shifting shadows and whispering winds. In her heart, a blend of resolve and dread settled like stones in the water—still, yet ever so heavy. The promise to protect, to uncover, to confront whatever darkness lay ahead, bound her as surely as the magic that coursed through her veins.
Good enough, Lorin decided when Svetlana told she was carried there while being chased. He knew a thing or two about choosing the lesser evil and saw no need to pry further in her past. She was no friend to Strahd and no enemy to anyone there. Lost as the rogue was, that much was everything he could wish for.
“So if it’s impossible we make it possible.” There were worse ways to think about it. That one at least aligned with his intentions of leaving. “It may be worth talking with the Vistani.”
If she didn’t know how deep their loyalty ran, then at least it wasn’t famously unquestionable. Someone amongst them could have lost a friend, maybe a lover, to the tyrant. Someone could like the idea of leaving Barovia with them and a few coins. Or be threatened in doing so. In the dark forest covered in mist things started to look bright.
The elf let the others pass him but still followed close. His gait was one that attempted to hide the very sounds of his steps. His silence made him look as much of a corpse as Hazel, though without her stitches.
“Do you think she was a ghost?” He asked the teddy bear wielder, standing just behind him. “Jokes aside, it looks like the work of the Mists.” It hadn’t been long since his arrival on that strange land, but it was quite clear to him that sudden appearance and disappearances there tended to be caused by this almost living fog. “And a good reason to hurry.”
Didn’t take long for them to find a village but the place made him even more uncomfortable than the forest. All buildings closed, no soul, dead or alive, in the streets. In the air rested a silence that reminded him of the moments before an ambush. Can we even find shelter here? He questioned looking in the direction of the tavern. Then he heard the whimpers and before he could speak his companions stepped closer. In for a copper, in for a gold.
“How long has it been since this monster appeared?” Lorin asked in a gentle tone, kneeling in front of the kids. “Did the village become silent after it appeared?”
The pale elf still thought the villagers were simply hiding, but Svetlana’s words made he consider the possibility of a massacre. A quite clean one.
As Svetlana attempts to lead the children away from the house, the girl balks. The boy's hand remains tightly clutched to his sister's, and he nuzzles his face against his teddy bear. "No!" she says. "We mustn't leave. Mother and Father locked the monster in the basement. We are afraid, but we want to stay here."
The children regard you with big eyes. They seem unsure of the answers to your questions. "My name is Rose, and this is Thorn. We've lived in this house our whole life," she says.
Indeed, even as Svetlana tries to usher the children toward one of the other houses, the mists suddenly seem to encroach from all sides, winding through the village streets like a grey serpent. At the sight of the mist, the children shrink away and take a step toward the house.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
To him the confusion of the children was as understandable as it was disappointing. Rose’s answer seemed like proper etiquette, drilled into her by family or a tutor. Her brother’s name sounded unfortunate by comparison – she was the beautiful flower while the boy was a mere projection of wood meant to hurt. A thought better left usaid, the pale elf knew.
“I’m Lorin.” The rogue answered with a half-smile upon his lips. As he turned his eyes towards his companions he saw the state of the streets. “And I’m starting to really hate these Mists.” They could explain was there was no one there. Maybe they were the reason why the buildings were closed. “Could you show us inside of your house?”
Lorin was not avid to help the children. Hells, he wasn’t even sure they were children. Svetlana’s words about Strahd still lingered in his mind. Those two could be disguised servants of the Count or simply an illusion. A finely crafted, complex one but likely to be far from impossible to a man capable to teleport people across a territory so vast that it extended beyond the horizon. Guides meant to usher them into a death game. But they needed shelter from the fog. A closed space, he hoped, would suffice.
The monster is in the basement, he said with the voice of his mind. The entrance is safe, unless it’s trap. Whatever the case, the siblings’ house was the closest place to the group. Who knows? We might just help a family in need. Svetlana and Hazel seemed inclined enough and he had seen enough kids suffering for many lifetimes.
“I take we’re entering?” The pale elf asked the others while rising to his feet. It was a tendency of his, to seek consensus. The effect of years by the shadows of roads, he reflected. From his part there would be no qualms with choosing to break into any of the other apparently empty houses instead.
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens shudders, when the Mists themselves seem to object to the children leaving the house. Everything is disturbing and suspicious. The Mists. The House. And even children. Are they perhaps part of a great deception by the Mists? The Mists, that they want to push their prey (i.e. her and the party) into the house? To be slaughtered by the monster inside? Using children as bait? Or is it even worse? Or are the children... just innocent children, but long dead and unable to reach final rest for some reason?
The Voices in her head rise once again, each with their own idea of how things are, but the savage wanderer, dazed, clearly understands only one thing: the Voices, like her, haven't any certainty. She therefore tries to silence them, to ignore them, to focus on the world outside her head. It is there that she can try to find out more about the matter.
When Svetlana regains control of herself, she realizes that Lorin, who also takes pity on the children, is inclined to enter the house. "Yes, I think we should go in" she replies to the ghostly elf, smiling at him, grateful that he also seems eager to help the two little ones in difficulty.
"Well, Rose, Thorn, I understand" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens tries to sound as reassuring as she can. "You don't want to leave because you think your parents are still in the basement with the monster?" in the meantime she tries to caress the children - both to reassure them and to make sure that they are material and not mere illusions [[ OOC: @DM: Svetlana's hand passes through the children, as if they were illusory? Or does Svetlana feel them 'solid', like real children? ]] "OK, listen to me then: let's make a pact, like between grown-up people. After all, we can see, you are now almost a little girl and a little boy, right?"
"Let's make the pact" the savage wanderer continues "that my friends and I will go into the basement to kill the monster. However, if after killing the monster we don't find your parents, it will mean that they have gone to wait for you somewhere else - so, while waiting to find them, you will come away with us. Deal?" she looks at them with hopeful azure eyes. This way, if Rose and Thorn are two real children, at least they will have a chance to survive... while if they are... something different... then perhaps they will at least be free to go to their final resting place.
"I wouldn't be surprised about either option," replies the short tabaxi. He eyes the elven stranger up and down as they commence their journey towards the nearby village. "I'm Mittens by the way," he says as he sidles up besides Lorin, his teddy bear shuffling along behind him. Much to his credit, Mittens manages to only cringe slightly when he says his name. In his opinion, his child name was the most unfortunate ever given in the history of his clan.
Mittens eyes the buildings distrustfully when they enter the solemn town. It felt like an ironic twist of fate for them to escape a haunted forest only to find themselves in an abandoned town. When he notices the two children standing in the street, red flags immediately went off in his mind. Two random kids in an abandoned town saying that there was a monster in their house. Definitely not suspicious at all.
He almost pipes up to oppose even going into the house at all, but then the mists curl predatorily through the streets towards them as Svetlana tries to lead the children into a different building. "This place is 1000% a trap," he calls out to the others when the mists seem to want to corral them into the imposing edifice. "But I'd rather be in there instead of risking being eaten by the mists." He eyes the encroaching mists with an air of wariness, and his teddy bear familiar takes a threatening step towards the mist in an attempt to scare it off. It didn't accomplish much of course, but it was the thought that counted.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
As Svetlana touches the children, her hand doesn't pass through them, but she gets a strange sensation nonetheless. It's a feeling of coldness, that the children are somehow insubstantial though they appear to be flesh and blood. As Rose looks at you, however, her expression is one only of genuine fear.
"We won't go inside," Rose says. "Not until the monster is gone. We'll wait here."
As Svetlana lays out the deal, Rose simply nods. Thorn has stopped crying, but he still clutches his sister and the teddy bear tightly. The little boy's eyes go wide when he spots the teddy bear following Mittens.
A wrought-iron gate with hinges on one side and a lock on the other fills the archway of a stone portico. The gate is unlocked, and its rusty hinges shriek when the gate is opened. Oil lamps hang from the portico ceiling by chains, flanking a set of oaken doors. Rose and Thorn huddle together inside the portico.
When you enter the house, you find yourselves in a foyer. Hanging on the south wall of the foyer is a shield emblazoned with a coat-of-arms, flanked by framed portraits of stony-faced aristocrats. There is another set of fine mahogany-framed double doors, set with panes of stained glass, that appears to lead further into the house.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
Uncia hadn't realized the mists had taken Nyssa as of yet. She'd noticed the woman was gone, but had assumed she was simply tying up that giant steed of hers somewhere. After all, there would be little point in riding it around the abandoned town when the rest of the party could only go on foot. Noting the others comment on her absence, she suggested as much to them. "Do you think she's maybe just seeing to that horse of hers?" she suggested to them hopefully. Although now that she thought of it, she didn't hear any sounds from the horse either. Odd.
So whatever the "monster" was, it was locked in the basement, securely it would seem from the lack of any noise, and Svetlana and Hazel were apparently comfortable with volunteering all of their help in killing it without even bothering to consult them on the matter. Falling into step besides Mittens, she nodded wearily at his suggestion that this was a trap and called out to Svetlana, "You know, whatever this is, we could always just . . . leave it in the basement? I mean, it doesn't seem to be able to get out." Yeah, the kids' plight was sad and all that, but given the village was empty, the two of them obviously couldn't stay here anyway. Not in the long term, at least. It was only the mist threatening to close in around Uncia that kept her following the party.
Amidst the rising swirl of mist and the shadowed ambiguity of the village, Hazel observed the unfolding dynamics with a perceptiveness honed by her own spectral existence. The children, Rose and Thorn, seemed to epitomize the village’s pervasive air of desolation, their youthful innocence overshadowed by the dark reality of their circumstances.
Hazel listened intently as Svetlana, Lorin, and now Uncia navigated the complexities of trust, suspicion, and practicality. Uncia’s suggestion of possibly leaving the monster contained sparked a new angle of thought in Hazel, though her resolve to confront the entity remained unshaken.
"The mists weave their own tales, stories spun from the fabric of fear and the unknown," Hazel began, her voice a soft whisper that seemed almost part of the wind. "But within these tales are threads of truth, and it is these threads we must grasp. While leaving the entity contained is a course of action, it is the knowledge of its nature and the safety it threatens that compels us forward."
She looked down at Rose and Thorn, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and faint hope. "Children, your courage in the face of such shadows is a beacon for us all. We will enter your home, confront what lies beneath, and seek the truth of what has transpired here. Your monster, whether born of the mists or a more tangible menace, shall know the strength of those it has sought to terrorize."
Turning to her companions, Hazel's gaze was resolute, a flicker of resolve igniting in her ethereal blue eyes. "We stand at a crossroads of specters and certainties. Let us choose the path that leads not just to survival, but to understanding. For in understanding the nature of our fears, we may yet disarm them."
She approached the children, extending a hand with a gentleness that belied her ghostly pallor. Her touch, meant to reassure them of her tangible intent, also sought to confirm their reality—a beacon of warmth in the chill that enveloped them.
"Let us affirm this pact," Hazel continued, her tone imbued with a gravity that acknowledged the weight of their agreement. "We will venture into the depths of your fear, and whatever we find, we will face it together. And should we find that your parents are no longer within, we will ensure you are not left to weather these shadows alone."
As the group prepared to enter the house, Hazel's heart, a chamber of echoes and whispers, prepared for the revelations that awaited. Her Wyrwood broom, ever a silent companion, seemed to quiver with the anticipation of the unknown, ready at her side as they stepped toward the threshold of the house that held as much mystery as menace.
"To the reasons that our dear Hazel has already given" the last of the Dusk Elf maidens continues, in response to Uncia "I might add that Mittens, the other... anthropomorphic cat?" she tries [[ OOC: No one has yet told her that the name of the race is 'Tabaxi'... And Tabaxi do not exist in Barovia, so Svetlana does not know that name ]] "If your race has a specific name, tell me, so that I stop going to attempts... Mittens, however, felt the threat of the Mists and that of the house seemed less to him".
“But my main reason to do this, is for Rose and Thorn” Svetlana sighs. "Who they are probably no longer alive. When I touched them... my hand did not pass through them, but I got a strange sensation nonetheless... a feeling of coldness, that the children are somehow insubstantial though they appear to be flesh and blood. I'm afraid that they are dead, Uncia, and that they cannot reach their final rest because of fear. So, I hope that if we eliminate the source of their fear, they will find peace".
"If we didn't do it..." the savage wanderer shudders "Can you imagine, what could it mean for two children to spend an eternity of solitude and uninterrupted fear? I won't simply go away. Not without having first tried to do something".
"Anyway, to clarify..." the last of the Dusk Elf maidens looks at Uncia with a light of empathy and understanding at the bottom of her azure eyes "With the children, I spoke in the plural, I said 'we', to reassure them more - but I certainly don't pretend to force anyone to do what seems best to me. I, after all, have been forced to fight to survive for some time... I've learned to fight - somehow. I'm not a professional warrior, but I know how to hold a weapon in my hand. If someone doesn't think they have the best skills for a monster hunt and would rather stay with the children or even try to leave, I won't think badly of them for it. In fact, I don't think bad at all of those who have skills useful in peace rather than skills useful in war".
Svetlana, at that point, leaves Uncia to decide if she wants to take part in the 'monster hunt'... and focuses on the coat-of-arms of the shield and on the portraits... She, thoughtful, tries to remember any details or facts about the relative house... Perhaps, if she could remember some details about the house and its history, it might be easier to understand which monster may have come to haunt that the house of that family...