Under raging storm clouds, the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich stands silhouetted against the ancient walls of Castle Ravenloft. Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The wind’s howling increases as he turns his gaze down toward the village of Barovia. A lightning flash rips through the darkness, but Strahd is gone. Only the howling of the wind fills the midnight air. The master of Castle Ravenloft is having guests for dinner—and you are invited.
You all meet in a tavern called "The Lions Head" in Daggerford, a small village on the fringes of "the mist" as the locals say. Before entering the Tavern you all notice an odd number of crows lining the trees as if the are here watching you.Upon entering the tavern You all over hear several disgruntled villagers speaking of a man named "Strahd", and whispers of how the area is cursed and no one can ever leave. The environment is dreary and somber. The barkeeper cleans mugs and eyes you all, as if he has something he wants to say. but only manages to look regretful to see you as he turns back to his work. Many of the villagers look exhausted and uncomfortable at your sight.
Well since we are all meeting for the first time and Wilt is nice, she's gonna introduce herself to everyone else in the party. Just say a quick, "Hey fellas, my names Wilt Baseball. Nice to meet all of you, this place has got a funky energy about it, right?" Then i want to talk to the bartender, ask him about Strahd
"Well met, the name is Galthor" says Galthor while noticing the grim atmosphere of the place, after placing the barkeeper he shouts out to him "A round of ale for me and my new friends", when the barkeeper comes to deliver the order he says to him in a loud voice with intencion that the other people of the tavern hear: "I see you are troubled my friend, but worry not, for as long as i am here this place is under the protection of Helm"
The barkeep seems unphased by what "Galthor" has said to him. He replies " With all due respect I admire your enthusiasm, but no one can help the people of this land save for the gods..... If your smart you will finish your ale and ride as fast as you can away from here". The grim villagers around the immediate vicinity all nod in agreement and turn back to their refreshments.
Walking into the tavern, Dalmar has his hood raised as he gave the room a quick glance. Trying to glean anything he could from the atmosphere. Moving his gaze towards the tavern he see some characters that seemed as out of place as he is, he suspects that they weren't brought here by chance either. Walking towards the bar, he stands a couple of feet away from Galthor. "Not afraid to expose yourself, I see. Foolish." He says freely as a small smirk draws on his face. He then turns his attention to the barkeeper, "Seems like we've all came here for a reason. No more running. I was brought here for answers, and I am not leaving without them," he said with some bass in his voice.
Galthor inspect Dalmar for a few seconds and after a chug of ale he says "Care for your words stranger, a more unreasonable men might find ofense in them, although there might be truth in them, i do not care to admit i have questions of my own " now addressing the barkeeper he asks"The name Stahd is much heard off, who owns it and why is it spoken with such weariness?"
the name strahd is one of power an fear. I wish I could impart more , but I cannot under fear of repercussion from the dark lord. I you wish to learn more you must do so under your own power as I am not at liberty to discuss the details (the barkeep says to "Galthor").
Cleaf snorts." Looks like we'll have to find our answers elsewhere. We'd be better off searching for a lowlife to question, instead of these people who might have something to lose."
Cleaf dismisses the barkeeper without another thought, wilt, galthor, and Dalmor do the same. All parties sit for while enjoying the refuge from the road.
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 ***** 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.
"Hail to thee of might and valor. I, a lowly servant of Barovia, send honor to thee. We plead for thy to desperately needed assistance. The love of my life, Ireena Kolyana, has been afflicted by an evil so deadly that even the good people of our village cannot protect her. She languishes from her wound, and I would have her saved from this menace. There is much wealth in this community. I offer all that might be had to thee and thy fellows if thou shalt but answer my desperate plea. Come quickly, for her time is at hand! All that I have shall be thine!"
An elderly woman looks on as she enjoys a nice meal. A nicer meal than she's had in a while. As drinks are passed around, she declines and asks one of the maids for some hot tea instead. Her gray hair falls down both sides of her face full and curly but unkempt, scraggly. Her face is weathered from old age and exposure to the elements. Although she does not appear to be full of energy, she does not seem weak.
"Well it seems that there is someone in need." She stands up slowly. "Who shall answer this plea for help?"
Wilt sees this as more of a challenge than anything, she probably understands that its serious but cant take it too seriously. She's super pumped. "Obviously we're going to do this. We need to help!" Even though she says this, right now she doesn't care too much about helping, she's just ready for something interesting to happen, she'll be more interested in helping later.
Your small party heads out of Tavern bidding the Barkeep goodbye as they leave. You head out of Daggerfords makeshift walls, and onto the dirt road just outside the city. You travel for about 5 mins, and notice something in the distance. You see a dozen men and women gathered around a crackling bonfire. The folk are in good spirits. A few of them sing and dance around the fire while others find happiness in their flasks and wine skins. Three barrel-topped wagons are parked at odd angles.Tied to a nearby tree, grazing, are half a dozen draft horses wearing bright coats with bangles and tassels
Galthor sees the party as he walks by but does not slow down nor looks for more than a few seconds, he is clearly more conserned about the letter and does not care for entretainment while someone is in need of help, (even though he wants to go on he wont oppose if any other member of the party wants to check it out).
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Under raging storm clouds, the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich stands silhouetted against the ancient walls of Castle Ravenloft. Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The wind’s howling increases as he turns his gaze down toward the village of Barovia. A lightning flash rips through the darkness, but Strahd is gone. Only the howling of the wind fills the midnight air. The master of Castle Ravenloft is having guests for dinner—and you are invited.
You all meet in a tavern called "The Lions Head" in Daggerford, a small village on the fringes of "the mist" as the locals say. Before entering the Tavern you all notice an odd number of crows lining the trees as if the are here watching you.Upon entering the tavern You all over hear several disgruntled villagers speaking of a man named "Strahd", and whispers of how the area is cursed and no one can ever leave. The environment is dreary and somber. The barkeeper cleans mugs and eyes you all, as if he has something he wants to say. but only manages to look regretful to see you as he turns back to his work. Many of the villagers look exhausted and uncomfortable at your sight.
Well since we are all meeting for the first time and Wilt is nice, she's gonna introduce herself to everyone else in the party. Just say a quick, "Hey fellas, my names Wilt Baseball. Nice to meet all of you, this place has got a funky energy about it, right?" Then i want to talk to the bartender, ask him about Strahd
Cleaf tends to think everyone but her is kinda sketch, so she just kinda nods at Wilt. She's not gonna speak up until she gets a feel for everyone.
"Well met, the name is Galthor" says Galthor while noticing the grim atmosphere of the place, after placing the barkeeper he shouts out to him "A round of ale for me and my new friends", when the barkeeper comes to deliver the order he says to him in a loud voice with intencion that the other people of the tavern hear: "I see you are troubled my friend, but worry not, for as long as i am here this place is under the protection of Helm"
The barkeep seems unphased by what "Galthor" has said to him. He replies " With all due respect I admire your enthusiasm, but no one can help the people of this land save for the gods..... If your smart you will finish your ale and ride as fast as you can away from here". The grim villagers around the immediate vicinity all nod in agreement and turn back to their refreshments.
Wilt says to the bartender "And why's that my good dude?" (using fantasy speak? naaah)
Walking into the tavern, Dalmar has his hood raised as he gave the room a quick glance. Trying to glean anything he could from the atmosphere. Moving his gaze towards the tavern he see some characters that seemed as out of place as he is, he suspects that they weren't brought here by chance either. Walking towards the bar, he stands a couple of feet away from Galthor. "Not afraid to expose yourself, I see. Foolish." He says freely as a small smirk draws on his face. He then turns his attention to the barkeeper, "Seems like we've all came here for a reason. No more running. I was brought here for answers, and I am not leaving without them," he said with some bass in his voice.
Galthor inspect Dalmar for a few seconds and after a chug of ale he says "Care for your words stranger, a more unreasonable men might find ofense in them, although there might be truth in them, i do not care to admit i have questions of my own " now addressing the barkeeper he asks"The name Stahd is much heard off, who owns it and why is it spoken with such weariness?"
the name strahd is one of power an fear. I wish I could impart more , but I cannot under fear of repercussion from the dark lord. I you wish to learn more you must do so under your own power as I am not at liberty to discuss the details (the barkeep says to "Galthor").
Cleaf snorts." Looks like we'll have to find our answers elsewhere. We'd be better off searching for a lowlife to question, instead of these people who might have something to lose."
Cleaf dismisses the barkeeper without another thought, wilt, galthor, and Dalmor do the same. All parties sit for while enjoying the refuge from the road.
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 ***** 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.
The letter reads :
I, a lowly servant of Barovia, send honor to thee. We plead for thy to desperately needed assistance.
The love of my life, Ireena Kolyana, has been afflicted by an evil so deadly that even the good people of our village cannot protect her. She languishes from her wound, and I would have her saved from this menace. There is much wealth in this community. I offer all that might be had to thee and thy fellows if thou shalt but answer my desperate plea. Come quickly, for her time is at hand! All that I have shall be thine!"
Kolyan Indrovich
Burgomaster
An elderly woman looks on as she enjoys a nice meal. A nicer meal than she's had in a while. As drinks are passed around, she declines and asks one of the maids for some hot tea instead. Her gray hair falls down both sides of her face full and curly but unkempt, scraggly. Her face is weathered from old age and exposure to the elements. Although she does not appear to be full of energy, she does not seem weak.
"Well it seems that there is someone in need." She stands up slowly. "Who shall answer this plea for help?"
Cleaf stands, as well. "As my honor demands, I will. But it is best to be careful about these sorts of invitations."
Wilt sees this as more of a challenge than anything, she probably understands that its serious but cant take it too seriously. She's super pumped. "Obviously we're going to do this. We need to help!" Even though she says this, right now she doesn't care too much about helping, she's just ready for something interesting to happen, she'll be more interested in helping later.
What do the rest of you do?
Galthor quickly drinks the few ale left on his mug and then stands "For duty and honor the call shall be answered"
Your small party heads out of Tavern bidding the Barkeep goodbye as they leave. You head out of Daggerfords makeshift walls, and onto the dirt road just outside the city. You travel for about 5 mins, and notice something in the distance. You see a dozen men and women gathered around a crackling bonfire. The folk are in good spirits. A few of them sing and dance around the fire while others find happiness in their flasks and wine skins. Three barrel-topped wagons are parked at odd angles.Tied to a nearby tree, grazing, are half a dozen draft horses wearing bright coats with bangles and tassels
Galthor sees the party as he walks by but does not slow down nor looks for more than a few seconds, he is clearly more conserned about the letter and does not care for entretainment while someone is in need of help, (even though he wants to go on he wont oppose if any other member of the party wants to check it out).