The Paladin, too, rises early. T'was a pattern he'd performed in ritual since he'd first taken the name "Fallow-blood." Dressed in robe and garment, rather than his typical mail, he uses the wash water in his quarters to draw a simple visage into the light dust of the inns' window. Taking a knee, he clasps his hands together and praises the first light of dawn, an end of darkness and birth of a new day.
As he does, a very old scar burns softly on his shoulder. As always it does.
First light comes abrupt, drawing golden streaks across the pane of the window, illuminating his hastily scrawled symbol in a glimmer of soft early sunlight. Beautiful. He cannot help but always find it beautiful. The old devout spreads his arms wide in thanks, basking in the glow. When at last the orb of the sun peeks fully from behind the distant trees, Murdock at last rises from his knee.
His old bones complain softly beneath his flesh as the old Paladin moves to wash his face and don his mail. First his boots, under the robes. Then the mail, clasped tightly and tied proper. His gloves come next, sliding with little effort over the mans' slender, bony, yet firm hands. The harness for the man's blade clasps softly aside his hip and he secures his shield on his back, looped over his pack. Whatever else remains is quickly tied to the sash of his scabbard or secured offhandedly somewhere on his person. Before long, he descends the steps ready to proceed.
Rather than rush out as others may of done, the old man sits and awaits the remaining others to awaken. Biting dried fig and warm morning bread, he once more pulls out his prayer book, his gloved fingers running over faded passages with soft recall. He did not need to read the words to know what was said. He knows the book by heart. When at last the others have prepared, and the last crumb of his bread consumed, the old man pulls two coins from his pocket. One to pay for his night and one to pay for his breakfast.
Bowing as he stands, he meets his companion, the priestess in gold as the two set out for the chapel. Rather than strike up a conversation to spoil the tacit morning, Murdock begins humming a soft hymn to none in particular. A song of life and light, most often heard among pious children of the chapels. A personal favorite.
The chapel is quaint and adequately kept, something Murdock is both keen and enthused to note. He lets his pluckish companion speak up before following suit,his gravelled voice a mite sweeter and softer in his mornings' refreshment. "We hath come seeking thy Communion and the Lords' blessings. And if thy yet bear aid, we beget humbly thy charity in praise. Have thee Anointed Water?" Regardless, he proceeds to kneel before the altar, his amulet dangling about his wrist as he utters a soft prayer for protection.
As the Paladin kneels, Tobias places a hand on his head and blessed him in the Morninglords name, +1 inspiration. As Lorelei kneels next to him, she too is blessed.
Standing behind them Tobias' hands sketch the symbol of Lathander in mid air. For a moment nothing just as the sun fights the night. Then the Sigil glows like a burning sun and the whole chapel was enveloped in light, the sound of the birds morning chorus broke out.
Here brethren you travel into a difficult land, even the Vistani don't lie about it. Remember your oaths to Lathander and drive evil before you. Settle the dead and aid the living. He hands each of them the finely leatherworked bandoliers.
My adventuring days are numbered, but I wish you well. He said.
Annaletta helped to take down their colourful tents and stow then in the grey trade wagons. It had been a good haul from Daggerford, including some fine wool cloth in bright colours and more sombre hues. She had her eye on some red ribbon to tie up her embroidered shirt.
It was barely dawn and everyone was pitching in, feeding and watering the large shire horses that pulled their wagons and fitting their tack to the caravans.
Viktor was busy with a string of horses that needed to be taken into Daggerford before they left. The stable would be selling them on to adventurers or merchants. They were magnificent beasts and he had received a good price for them. He'd walk back with the party from last night. The twilight began to lift as the sun broke on the horizon.
The Vistani were ready to leave. Yet the mist was still solid, they had plenty of time for the crossing.
On the way to the temple, Lorelei would quietly join in with humming the familiar hymn, which brings a small smile to her face. The young lathanderite with the blonde braided hair gratefully accepts the bandolier with another bow of reverence, then bidding Father Tobias farewell She would then join the old paladin as they made their way over to the Vistani camp where she seeks out Viktor. "I think we're all here soon. I hope you had a night without incidents?" She says with a friendly smile.
The rising sun set the mist ablaze with streaks of color. Illmirth arrived at the Vistani camp as they finished prepping to depart. He greeted those he danced with last night gratitude and enthusiasm. Those he did not spend time with received a greeting no leas friendly, although perhaps not as personal. The bustle of the camp, beautiful colors of the rising sun in the mist, and the excitement of the day had the bard in fine spirits. He began to hum softly, tempo and volume building as he found a rhythm to match is high spirits. When he finds his groove, he begins to sing to the gathered travelers.
Purple haze all in my brain, lately things just don't seem the same. Actin' funny but I don't know why, 'scuse me while I kiss the sky.
Purple haze all around, don't know if it's comin' up or down. Am I scared or full of glee, whatever it is, your tunes put a spell on me.
Purple haze all in my eyes, don't know if it's day or night. You got me blowin', blow my mind, is it tomorrow, or just the end of time?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Come each of you, sit on the box seat with the driver. Ladies you have the option of travelling inside the caravan or the trading wagons with the other women. It is time to leave whilst the mist endures. The caravans set up as a train each caravan with a lantern alight by the drivers seat so all can see where the next caravan is whilst in the thick mist.
Illmirth started singing and soon voices joined him on the chorus.
We have pierced the mists, welcome to Barovia! We are travelling through the Svalich forest on the old road. Do not be afraid of the wolves, they will not attack the caravans.
Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.
Crisaryn had arrived to the Vistani camp with the others. When given the option of where to sit she replies. "I'd rather just sit with the driver." And she finds wherever there might be a spot for her.
From there she watches as the train of wagons go out. For mist the journey she's just keeping an eye on the lantern of the wagon ahead. There's little else to see in the heavy mist. But she's content to sit in silence.
She's a tiny bit startled when Viktor announces their arrival in Barovia. She can't help but think the dreary landscape here doesn't quite look like what she's seen about Daggerford. Perhaps it's just been a while. And she doesn't think she's gone this particular way before.
Despite Viktor's reassurances that the wolves will not attack the caravan, Vaelar remains wary with the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed to move to his weapons at a moment's notice. His pale eyes constantly scan the terrain around them, alert for any movement. He avoids looking at the dark, reflective pools of water. He knows what he would see there.
"How are you able to traverse the mists with such confidence?"he asks the Vistani elder.
The young lathanderite with the blonde braided hair too would prefer to sit beside a driver on one of the carts to keep her keen and wary eyes on the surroundings. She kept fearing horrible monsters would come out of the misty forest, and she kept hoping to see her mentor coming towards them around the next bend.
Illmirth's thin white eyebrow raised sharply when the wagon bounced through a deep mud puddle. He bounced slightly off the seat and missed a string. He had long since ceased to sing, but his lute remained in his hands. His nimble fingers danced over the strings, until the jostling of the rough road made him miss fire. The sound of the the spoiled note rang out with a twang that hit right as Viktor announced their arrival to Barovia.
He stopped his soft strumming as their surroundings came into more clear view. He glances around for a few moments and decided that he liked the mist more. Pulling his cloak tighter to his neck he said, "I confess that my minds eye painted a different picture. How far is the village?" A warm fire and a glass of wine sounded pretty good after the long, unusual trip through the dreary mist.
It took a few minutes for the words to really register, but when they did he found them intriguing. "A large and hungry pack of wolves would attack just about anything, yet you spoke with some certainly that we would not be accosted. Do your people have control over them, druidic magic perhaps?" he asked with sincere curiosity.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
The wolf packs here are the eyes and ears of our Prince, it is only the direwolf packs that you must be cautious of. That and werewolves, though they are few, we Vistani hunt the changed ones.
He knees his horse nearer the caravan so that he can see Illmirths face. The way travels fast with such music, thank you.
Suddenly his horse reared and stamped its feet on the floor. A raven flew past and screeched at them dead! it called.Viktor hushed his horse and dismounted, giving off a high pitched whistle. Then he turned slightly away and entered the edge of the forest. The caravan train came to a halt.
He found the body of a young Vistani man clutching a letter. He pocketed the letter for later around the campfire. Then checked the corpse for marks, he found two small puncture wounds, Vampyr spawn!
He carefully pulled the shirt back to expose the neck and then cut down to sever the head from the neck. He would not rise again.
For the old man, it's nothing new. Granted, Barovia is a place novel to his weathered hide, but long trips and tedious hunts were aplenty in his younger years. From the moment the wagons had begun jostling and bouncing, he knew this was one so tedious. And yet it is one he is so eager to progress. He levels his blade downward, wedging its scabbards' edge between two of the wagons' floorboards and steadies it with his hands atop, not unlike an elder with a cane.
This is how he remained for much of the initial trek, stirring only when news of the party's arrival piqued his curiosity. A glance out of the front told the aged warrior all he needed to understand regarding the old land: wild, alien, and unfriendly. Marvelous. Affixing his scabbard back to his belt, he remains behind the front seats, leering out across the sullen landscape. The bark of the raven draws his attention, and he affords the winged herald a small distinct nod of respect when it flits past.
He is one of those to step out, if only for a moment, when the caravan comes to a halt. His hand on the pommel of his blade, he hugs the perimeter of the wagon, allowing his eyes to scan the horizon around him. He is ready, searching for any foul sign of maliciousness or savagery in the wilds beyond.
He calls out to the scout, Viktor. "Hath thee found anything of note? Mayest we proceed, good ser?"
**Perception roll to watch surroundings: nat 20+2**
Viktor came back to the caravans bearing the body of a young man with his head held by the hair. We need to bury him at our next stop. He was drained by a Vampyr spawn. They left the letter behind. Viktors face was ashen as he put the body in the back of the trade wagon. He turns to Murdock and decides to hand him the lettter. I think it is meant for you from the Burgomeister
OOC Check the spoiler for the letter in text.
Hail thee of might and valor:
I, the Burgomaster of Barovia, send you honor—with despair.
My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena Kolyana, has been these past nights bitten by a vampyr. For over four hundred years, this creature has drained the life blood of my people. Now, my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. He has become too powerful to conquer.
So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with the symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the devil may be contained within the walls of weeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.
There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all departed for a better life.
The young lathanderite with the blonde braided hair quickly moves over to where the old paladin sits. "The letter...what does it say?"She asks in a worried tone.
While Lorelei and Murdock concern themselves with the letter, Vaelar instead turns his attention to the body and its head.
Vampyr... he thought to himself, anger and hatred boiling in his cursed blood. Would Victor remove his head, too, if he knew? Vaelar kept his pale eyes downturned.
There are Vampyr spawn here and one master Vampyr. There are also several Dhampirs, though they are good rather than the evil of their kin, they often fight the spawn to keep the numbers down. Some of the Vistani are Dhampir, they are an honourable folk. He carefully arranges the body and puts the head on its chest. I knew him, Dimitri was his name.
Illmirth knew nothing of the Vistani's death rights, but grief was a universal language. He placed his hand upon Viktor's shoulder and said nothing, hoping to give him some comfort with the sympathy that was written in his expression of saddness for his loss.
When some time has passed he asks, "I am not well familiar with the vampyr. Perhaps as we travel you could tell us more of these creatures, and how best to slay them should they come to bear their fangs against us."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
He shrugs , Ask your old Paladin, he is a hunter of the undead unless I am mistaken. He will know how to kill the undead from his own experience.
We Vistani have little knowledge of them as we keep ourselves out of their way. Don't try a stake through the chest, their hearts do not beat so it is not a weak point. Sever the head from the shoulders and they are dead. If they bite you and you live douse the wound with Holy Water, it might sting but it clears the curse. When we reach the Vistani camp of Madam Eva ask to talk to one of the Dhampirs, they help cull the spawn when it gets too near to us.
Murdock
The Paladin, too, rises early. T'was a pattern he'd performed in ritual since he'd first taken the name "Fallow-blood." Dressed in robe and garment, rather than his typical mail, he uses the wash water in his quarters to draw a simple visage into the light dust of the inns' window. Taking a knee, he clasps his hands together and praises the first light of dawn, an end of darkness and birth of a new day.
As he does, a very old scar burns softly on his shoulder. As always it does.
First light comes abrupt, drawing golden streaks across the pane of the window, illuminating his hastily scrawled symbol in a glimmer of soft early sunlight. Beautiful. He cannot help but always find it beautiful. The old devout spreads his arms wide in thanks, basking in the glow. When at last the orb of the sun peeks fully from behind the distant trees, Murdock at last rises from his knee.
His old bones complain softly beneath his flesh as the old Paladin moves to wash his face and don his mail. First his boots, under the robes. Then the mail, clasped tightly and tied proper. His gloves come next, sliding with little effort over the mans' slender, bony, yet firm hands. The harness for the man's blade clasps softly aside his hip and he secures his shield on his back, looped over his pack. Whatever else remains is quickly tied to the sash of his scabbard or secured offhandedly somewhere on his person. Before long, he descends the steps ready to proceed.
Rather than rush out as others may of done, the old man sits and awaits the remaining others to awaken. Biting dried fig and warm morning bread, he once more pulls out his prayer book, his gloved fingers running over faded passages with soft recall. He did not need to read the words to know what was said. He knows the book by heart. When at last the others have prepared, and the last crumb of his bread consumed, the old man pulls two coins from his pocket. One to pay for his night and one to pay for his breakfast.
Bowing as he stands, he meets his companion, the priestess in gold as the two set out for the chapel. Rather than strike up a conversation to spoil the tacit morning, Murdock begins humming a soft hymn to none in particular. A song of life and light, most often heard among pious children of the chapels. A personal favorite.
The chapel is quaint and adequately kept, something Murdock is both keen and enthused to note. He lets his pluckish companion speak up before following suit,his gravelled voice a mite sweeter and softer in his mornings' refreshment. "We hath come seeking thy Communion and the Lords' blessings. And if thy yet bear aid, we beget humbly thy charity in praise. Have thee Anointed Water?" Regardless, he proceeds to kneel before the altar, his amulet dangling about his wrist as he utters a soft prayer for protection.
DM
Father Tobias
As the Paladin kneels, Tobias places a hand on his head and blessed him in the Morninglords name, +1 inspiration. As Lorelei kneels next to him, she too is blessed.
Standing behind them Tobias' hands sketch the symbol of Lathander in mid air. For a moment nothing just as the sun fights the night. Then the Sigil glows like a burning sun and the whole chapel was enveloped in light, the sound of the birds morning chorus broke out.
Here brethren you travel into a difficult land, even the Vistani don't lie about it. Remember your oaths to Lathander and drive evil before you. Settle the dead and aid the living. He hands each of them the finely leatherworked bandoliers.
My adventuring days are numbered, but I wish you well. He said.
DM
The Vistani Camp.
Annaletta helped to take down their colourful tents and stow then in the grey trade wagons. It had been a good haul from Daggerford, including some fine wool cloth in bright colours and more sombre hues. She had her eye on some red ribbon to tie up her embroidered shirt.
It was barely dawn and everyone was pitching in, feeding and watering the large shire horses that pulled their wagons and fitting their tack to the caravans.
Viktor was busy with a string of horses that needed to be taken into Daggerford before they left. The stable would be selling them on to adventurers or merchants. They were magnificent beasts and he had received a good price for them. He'd walk back with the party from last night. The twilight began to lift as the sun broke on the horizon.
The Vistani were ready to leave. Yet the mist was still solid, they had plenty of time for the crossing.
Lorelei Dawnwarden
On the way to the temple, Lorelei would quietly join in with humming the familiar hymn, which brings a small smile to her face.
The young lathanderite with the blonde braided hair gratefully accepts the bandolier with another bow of reverence, then bidding Father Tobias farewell
She would then join the old paladin as they made their way over to the Vistani camp where she seeks out Viktor.
"I think we're all here soon. I hope you had a night without incidents?" She says with a friendly smile.
Illmirth
The rising sun set the mist ablaze with streaks of color. Illmirth arrived at the Vistani camp as they finished prepping to depart. He greeted those he danced with last night gratitude and enthusiasm. Those he did not spend time with received a greeting no leas friendly, although perhaps not as personal. The bustle of the camp, beautiful colors of the rising sun in the mist, and the excitement of the day had the bard in fine spirits. He began to hum softly, tempo and volume building as he found a rhythm to match is high spirits. When he finds his groove, he begins to sing to the gathered travelers.
Purple haze all in my brain, lately things just don't seem the same. Actin' funny but I don't know why, 'scuse me while I kiss the sky.
Purple haze all around, don't know if it's comin' up or down. Am I scared or full of glee, whatever it is, your tunes put a spell on me.
Purple haze all in my eyes, don't know if it's day or night. You got me blowin', blow my mind, is it tomorrow, or just the end of time?
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
DM
Stanimir
Come each of you, sit on the box seat with the driver. Ladies you have the option of travelling inside the caravan or the trading wagons with the other women. It is time to leave whilst the mist endures. The caravans set up as a train each caravan with a lantern alight by the drivers seat so all can see where the next caravan is whilst in the thick mist.
Illmirth started singing and soon voices joined him on the chorus.
DM
Viktor
We have pierced the mists, welcome to Barovia! We are travelling through the Svalich forest on the old road. Do not be afraid of the wolves, they will not attack the caravans.
Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.
Crisaryn Melkial
Crisaryn had arrived to the Vistani camp with the others. When given the option of where to sit she replies. "I'd rather just sit with the driver." And she finds wherever there might be a spot for her.
From there she watches as the train of wagons go out. For mist the journey she's just keeping an eye on the lantern of the wagon ahead. There's little else to see in the heavy mist. But she's content to sit in silence.
She's a tiny bit startled when Viktor announces their arrival in Barovia. She can't help but think the dreary landscape here doesn't quite look like what she's seen about Daggerford. Perhaps it's just been a while. And she doesn't think she's gone this particular way before.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Vaelar
Despite Viktor's reassurances that the wolves will not attack the caravan, Vaelar remains wary with the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed to move to his weapons at a moment's notice. His pale eyes constantly scan the terrain around them, alert for any movement. He avoids looking at the dark, reflective pools of water. He knows what he would see there.
"How are you able to traverse the mists with such confidence?" he asks the Vistani elder.
Lorelei Dawnwarden
The young lathanderite with the blonde braided hair too would prefer to sit beside a driver on one of the carts to keep her keen and wary eyes on the surroundings. She kept fearing horrible monsters would come out of the misty forest, and she kept hoping to see her mentor coming towards them around the next bend.
Illmirth
Illmirth's thin white eyebrow raised sharply when the wagon bounced through a deep mud puddle. He bounced slightly off the seat and missed a string. He had long since ceased to sing, but his lute remained in his hands. His nimble fingers danced over the strings, until the jostling of the rough road made him miss fire. The sound of the the spoiled note rang out with a twang that hit right as Viktor announced their arrival to Barovia.
He stopped his soft strumming as their surroundings came into more clear view. He glances around for a few moments and decided that he liked the mist more. Pulling his cloak tighter to his neck he said, "I confess that my minds eye painted a different picture. How far is the village?" A warm fire and a glass of wine sounded pretty good after the long, unusual trip through the dreary mist.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Illmirth
It took a few minutes for the words to really register, but when they did he found them intriguing. "A large and hungry pack of wolves would attack just about anything, yet you spoke with some certainly that we would not be accosted. Do your people have control over them, druidic magic perhaps?" he asked with sincere curiosity.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
DM
Stanimir to Vaelar
It is a gift that all Vistani have, we can always find our way home to Barovia no matter how far we roam. Even adopted adults have it after a while.
We have a day on the road before we reach the village, when that is done we will head for the campsite near Madam Eva.
***********************************************************************************************************************
Viktor to Illmirth
The wolf packs here are the eyes and ears of our Prince, it is only the direwolf packs that you must be cautious of. That and werewolves, though they are few, we Vistani hunt the changed ones.
He knees his horse nearer the caravan so that he can see Illmirths face. The way travels fast with such music, thank you.
Suddenly his horse reared and stamped its feet on the floor. A raven flew past and screeched at them dead! it called. Viktor hushed his horse and dismounted, giving off a high pitched whistle. Then he turned slightly away and entered the edge of the forest. The caravan train came to a halt.
He found the body of a young Vistani man clutching a letter. He pocketed the letter for later around the campfire. Then checked the corpse for marks, he found two small puncture wounds, Vampyr spawn!
He carefully pulled the shirt back to expose the neck and then cut down to sever the head from the neck. He would not rise again.
Murdock
For the old man, it's nothing new. Granted, Barovia is a place novel to his weathered hide, but long trips and tedious hunts were aplenty in his younger years. From the moment the wagons had begun jostling and bouncing, he knew this was one so tedious. And yet it is one he is so eager to progress. He levels his blade downward, wedging its scabbards' edge between two of the wagons' floorboards and steadies it with his hands atop, not unlike an elder with a cane.
This is how he remained for much of the initial trek, stirring only when news of the party's arrival piqued his curiosity. A glance out of the front told the aged warrior all he needed to understand regarding the old land: wild, alien, and unfriendly. Marvelous. Affixing his scabbard back to his belt, he remains behind the front seats, leering out across the sullen landscape. The bark of the raven draws his attention, and he affords the winged herald a small distinct nod of respect when it flits past.
He is one of those to step out, if only for a moment, when the caravan comes to a halt. His hand on the pommel of his blade, he hugs the perimeter of the wagon, allowing his eyes to scan the horizon around him. He is ready, searching for any foul sign of maliciousness or savagery in the wilds beyond.
He calls out to the scout, Viktor. "Hath thee found anything of note? Mayest we proceed, good ser?"
**Perception roll to watch surroundings: nat 20+2**
DM
Viktor came back to the caravans bearing the body of a young man with his head held by the hair. We need to bury him at our next stop. He was drained by a Vampyr spawn. They left the letter behind. Viktors face was ashen as he put the body in the back of the trade wagon. He turns to Murdock and decides to hand him the lettter. I think it is meant for you from the Burgomeister
OOC Check the spoiler for the letter in text.
Hail thee of might and valor:
I, the Burgomaster of Barovia, send you honor—with despair.
My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena Kolyana, has been these past nights bitten by a vampyr. For over four hundred years, this creature has drained the life blood of my people. Now, my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. He has become too powerful to conquer.
So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with the symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the devil may be contained within the walls of weeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.
There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all departed for a better life.
Kolyan Indirovich Burgomaster
Lorelei Dawnwarden
The young lathanderite with the blonde braided hair quickly moves over to where the old paladin sits. "The letter...what does it say?" She asks in a worried tone.
Vaelar
While Lorelei and Murdock concern themselves with the letter, Vaelar instead turns his attention to the body and its head.
Vampyr... he thought to himself, anger and hatred boiling in his cursed blood. Would Victor remove his head, too, if he knew? Vaelar kept his pale eyes downturned.
"There are vampyrs in Barovia?"
DM
Viktor
There are Vampyr spawn here and one master Vampyr. There are also several Dhampirs, though they are good rather than the evil of their kin, they often fight the spawn to keep the numbers down. Some of the Vistani are Dhampir, they are an honourable folk. He carefully arranges the body and puts the head on its chest. I knew him, Dimitri was his name.
Illmirth
Illmirth knew nothing of the Vistani's death rights, but grief was a universal language. He placed his hand upon Viktor's shoulder and said nothing, hoping to give him some comfort with the sympathy that was written in his expression of saddness for his loss.
When some time has passed he asks, "I am not well familiar with the vampyr. Perhaps as we travel you could tell us more of these creatures, and how best to slay them should they come to bear their fangs against us."
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
DM
Viktor
He shrugs , Ask your old Paladin, he is a hunter of the undead unless I am mistaken. He will know how to kill the undead from his own experience.
We Vistani have little knowledge of them as we keep ourselves out of their way. Don't try a stake through the chest, their hearts do not beat so it is not a weak point. Sever the head from the shoulders and they are dead. If they bite you and you live douse the wound with Holy Water, it might sting but it clears the curse. When we reach the Vistani camp of Madam Eva ask to talk to one of the Dhampirs, they help cull the spawn when it gets too near to us.