To a party of seasoned adventurers such as yourselves, what you see is but another dull tavern in another dull town in some nameless province. It is but another span of time between the challenges of true adventuring.

Outside the tavern, a fog lies over the town this evening. The damp, cobbled pavement glistens as the lights of street lanterns dance across the slick stones. The fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside.

Yet inside these tavern walls the food is hearty, and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth, and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk. 

Suddenly, the tavern door swings open, and a hush falls over the room. Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides through the doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Without hesitation, he walks up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms.

In an accented voice he says, “I have been sent to you to deliver this message. If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my master’s aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich Woods at night!” He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. “Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich Woods. There you will find my master in Barovia.”

Amid the silent stares of the patronage, the man strides to the bar and says to the wary barkeep, “Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched.” He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he leaves.

The babble of tavern voices resumes, although somewhat subdued. The letter is lying before you. The seal is in the shape of a crest you don’t recognize.

"Intriguing," Calder Vale said, steepling his fingers. "This master certainly has deep pockets, but I've not heard of the Svalich Woods nor Barovia. Have any of you heard of this place?" Calder picks up the letter and examines the seal. "Shall we see what the letter says?" Without waiting, he breaks the seal and opens the letter.

Nathaniel watches the man leave, the tavern noise slowly creeping back. He drums his fingers on the table once, twice, then stops. “Didn’t even wait for an answer,” he says quietly. “That’s never a good sign.” He picks up the letter, turning it over in his hand, eyes narrowing at the seal. “Five hours through the woods… guess that’s one way to spend a morning, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.” He sets it back down in the middle of the table and glances around. “So… anyone feeling brave enough to open it, or do we let curiosity kill us one at a time?”

With a laugh Nathaniel says, “Of course, Calder is always the brave one. Read it aloud my friend.”

Victoria simply nursed her drink & listened.  Not that she was thirsty.  She just found that the living were more tolerant of her presence when she did something they did.  She looked from the letter to her companions and waited in silence.

Ellie tears her gaze from the corner she's been staring at for an hour when the man came to their table. She silently half-listens to his delivered speech, turning to her companions when he leaves. "I guess we accepted. Yes, Calder, what does the note say?"

Maybe this is where our answers lie. What do we say? You've been quiet this evening.

Eyes flicking back to the corner, she turns back to hear Calder's words.

The woman named Morwenna Eisenwald sat as unmoving as a corpse. The heavy cowl of her cloak veiled much of her oval face in shade, yet her pallid-complected visage was familiar enough to the other adventurers gathered around the table by now. Before the arrival of the colourful emissary, she had poked at her food, taking unenthusiastic bites while her large, soulfully dark eyes swept suspiciously over the tavern. Morwenna had always found it difficult being in the company of so many folk at once. There was undoubtedly a holiness in the joys peasants took from drink and revelry, yet she had witnessed how swiftly public mirth could flit to the unreasoning hatred of a mob, when they scented someone different. 

An outsider. That is what Morwenna had always been - a shadow on a sunny day, an inkblot on an empty page, a stranger even in her own homeland. This was not even a land she knew well, so her guardedness was even more acute. The heavy chainmail and shield she bore were affixed with painted steel roses, but her paranoia was hardier than any armour, an ugly relic of old, unresolved fears.

Morwenna regarded the scene before her with deathly stillness, until at last she spoke. "These country folk mislike the master, whoever he may be." She nodded at the reactions of the anxious commoners, then raised her cup and drained what remained of her ale.

Calder reads the letter out loud. 

“Well, my stalwart companions, shall we make preparations to find our way to this Barovia? I suspect we should depart early in the morning, before first light, to ensure arrival before dark, as our colorful companion suggested. I for one am intrigued.”

"I don't know what we could do about this woman's wound, but how could we turn down a reward of all he had to offer? At least we can hear them out," she acknowledges. "Yes, morning it is, then." The small woman gives a tiny nod, no longer really interested in the note. She looks back towards the shadowed corner, ignoring the food and drink before her.

Does that sound familiar? It doesn't, but maybe it does? I probably know what you're thinking, but tell me anyways.

“Agreed. If the reward is anything as described, it’ll be enough to set us up for life. A desperate man is loose with his possessions.”

Here's the link to the VTT maps.

https://www.dndbeyond.com/games/7141752

"Laying it on a little thick, this Indirovich. First the profuse flattery, then the promise of unspeakable wealth. And how did he come to know of us to begin with?" Morwenna remarks, her tone hard with distrust. She takes the letter from Calder and examines the penmanship. "A line tossed to lure gullible fish - never mind that hook glinting just beneath the surface."

Misgivings came easily to the paladin, but she sighed deeply and recalled her oath. 

"Still... I suppose folk will do whatever they must for their loved ones." Morwenna conceded, glancing at the others gathered about the table. "At dawn then. We will see what we can do for the burgomeister and his beloved."

Calder nodded. “I agree. The letter is suspect, as is the overall situation. Still, the mystery is enough to pique my interest.”

Victoria looked from one of her companions to the next as they spoke.  

"Makes no difference to me as long as I get to beat something.  Do we have lodging?  We should try to rest if we're leaving before dawn."

 Not that rest made much difference to her.  Still, there was the chance of remembering something.

“I’ll arrange rooms with the innkeep,” Calder said. He got up and went to discuss lodging for himself and his companions. 

The next morning you set out for Barovia traveling along the Old Svalich Road. 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.

(After Traveling for five hours)

The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence.

As you get closer the gates open inward with a loud squeaking noise. After gates are fully open, a preternatural silence fills the air.

“That was odd,” Calder said. “How did these gates open?” He examines them for some kind of magic or mechanism.