Into the Mists - CoS by Hanyouslayer

Rumble let's everyone know he'll be down in two hours.

He darts up stairs and up the pull down ladder, continuing to climb the tower. He perches himself on a windowsill lazily and breaths a sigh of relief. Alone again. Up high. In the dark. Puuurrrrfect. He begins to rumble slightly as a our eminates from his chest as he looks out over the town.

Perception for watch: 11

Graeme, I believe that would call for a nature check to discern if it was poisoned or tampered with.

Unless anyone would like to inquire further, everyone banters for some time until each heads to their respective rooms. 

Rumble gets some peace and quiet alone in the tower and takes watch. As you look out at the night, the mist swirls and moves in and out gently. Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be any activity nearby or within sight.

(Updated my precious post with a Nature Check. Result: 10)

The wine has hints of clove within the wine, but there doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. He also is drinking from the same decanter.

"I'll take a glass if you don't mind." Allen takes the glass if offered and drinks with Ismark and Graeme.

"But of course, my good man." Ismark fills another glass and neatly hands it over. The wine isn't crazy strong, but it's better than what was had at the tavern. 

Not sensing anything amiss, Graeme raises his glas to Ismark and then takes a deep drink. 

“Hey! Oo! That’s no haf bad! Thanks, lad!”

After two hours watch, Rumble comes down and asks who out of the drinking buddies would like to take next watch?

He then curls up in front of the fire on the carpet, secretly looking over the holy symbol he pocketed earlier before falling asleep.

The group switches watch throughout the night until the dim grey sunlight lightly pokes through the overcast sky. The smell of cooked sausage and eggs wafts through the upstairs as a still-half asleep Ireena wakes each member and mentions breakfast is ready. Each of you receives a small plate of three sausages and a nice omelette pairing. Her hair in shambles, she nervously tucks it and unsuccessfully pats the bed-head as she hands out the food. Once everyone has had their fill, Ismark clears the plates and asks somberly, "Nothing like a morning burial, eh?"

"Really set things off to a cheery start," he adds as he pours a glass of wine. "A great man. Someone who cared for the people of this town, and someone who didn't deserve to die. Death to Strahd, and a curse upon him in his undeath." Ireena leaves the table quickly and proceeds upstairs, without word. "Might there be anything anyone must do before we pay visit to the church?"

Rumble shakes his head “no”

“Ehhh, nooo. No, I doon guess.” Graeme says covering a yawn.  “Thanks for the breakfast. It’s been a while since I ‘ad one that good!”

And in a more somber tone asks “ehh, wha’ ken I do to help, lad?”

Enjoying his breakfast Allen shakes his head no and continues eating. "No not really.." Watching Ireena allen thanks her for the meal "Thanks for breakfast Ireena it was delicious.."

Allen will grab his book off the table after eating "I'm ready when you guys are."

Ireena thanks you with a curtsy before heading off to get ready. Ismark states, "Oh, I think we're as ready as can be, once Ireena gets dressed. The church is a bit of a hike, but if a couple of you wouldn't mind helping carry the coffin. Unfortunately, all of our horses have been killed in the attacks. But with the weight distributed, it won't be so bad. It may not be glorified, but it will be honorable."

As the group gathers their things and makes ready, it suddenly becomes apparent that four of your companions haven't been with you since last night. Strangely, you can't quite recall exactly when they parted, and the sensation is rather jarring as you're sure they were there with you. In particular, the sensation is rather strong with you, Graeme. Ismark checks the rooms upstairs, ruffles his hair, but then goes back to finish packing without word.

Departing, Ismark turns to each of you in turn. "You can all still leave. I appreciate what you're doing. But for those who wish to continue, may I also ask aid in carrying my father to the church and to his grave?"

For those that wish, please take a position. It is rather apparent that Ismark has indeed made the coffin himself. It's not much more just a wooden box, but it is held together fine enough.

Rumble looks around nervously. This is why he prefers to work alone. His trust is hard enough to gain as it is, save people seemingly disappearing. Were they genuine? Or spies? He doesn't like this feeling.

"Anyone else planning on vanishing?" He mumbled rhetorically. He assumes a spot on the front right of the coffin, ready to march on.

Very unsettling that four people vanished into thin area. Now it's just the Tabaxi "Rumble" and The drunken Human "Graeme". Allen adjust himself and placeing his book in his bag, taking a spot on the bottom right.

Ismark stands at the front left, and Ireena at the back, and the four of you lift the coffin. Ismark nods, and Ireena looks straightforward as the group begins their trek. Northward bound through the clingy humidity, you pass the cross street with the broken directionals. The streets are silent as the procession dedicatedly brings a man to his final resting place. Slowly, the choking mists begin to thin as the ground becomes more and more incline. It becomes clear that there's a mountain here, unbeknownst to the group due to the usual suffocating mist.

Atop the steep rise, against the roots of the large pillar of stone, stands an ominous black castle. The light seems to flee from the structure; as if it dare not bring its presence there. Much closer, however, stands a gray, sagging edifice of stone and wood. The church has obviously weathered the assaults of evil for centuries on end and is worn and weary. A bell tower rises defiantly skyward towards the back, and flickering light shines through holes in its shingled roof.

Ireena draws her hood over her head and hair with a free hand and continues to stare straight onward. Through the open gates, the group makes it to the church proper. The heavy wooden doors of the church are canvassed with claw marks and scarred by fire. Ismark motions to put the casket down, and knocks loudly on the door. After a few moments, there doesn't appear to be a response.

He turns back, brushing the back of his head. "I haven't been much for churches and religion. Do we just go in if there's no answer? I, uh, would rather not be rude."

"I could always find an alternative enterance..." Rumble suggests. He checks the door to see if it's locked.

(OOC: LOL I was waiting for our cleric or Paladin to do something... But we don't have either hahaha... We're so boned.)

Graeme’s mood has turned dark with the sudden disappearance of the members of his group. While he keeps the the worst of his feelings to himself, the effect has robbed him of his sense of humor.  His friends are gone withought goodbyes. Despite having lost many friends along the way, it’s not something he’s ever grown accustomed to. He hadn’t had a chance to save his mother and sister, no chance there for last goodbyes either.

It’s business now. Blood must be drawn, a devil slain. Perhaps once this dreadful thing is done, he can find his way back to his sense of humor. If he survives. 

“If tha door won’ budge, I can hae a go at it wi’ my axe.”

Graeme looks around for another way in as well.

Perception: 8

Rumble pushes on the door, and it gives way without much effort. A sprinkling of dust falls from the gaps between the doors, lightly falling on your head. Your right ear instinctively twitches and shakes what bit got in you, and it leads the way down a hall. There's a girlish giggle behind you. The old doors open to reveal a ten-foot wide, twenty-foot long hall leading to a resplendently lit chapel.

The hall itself is not lit and reeks of mildew and decay. Four doors, two on each side of the hall, lead to adjacent chambers.

Graeme, as you walk around the side, it's clear that the grounds are not kempt. Tangled, gnarled weeds choke the draught of a flowerbed lining the outer wall. About 35 feet into your search, you come upon some stained glass windows. Looking inward, cupping your eyes, you see a chapel in shambles. Overturned and broken pews litter the floor. At the far end of the church, a priest in soiled vestments kneels behind an altar. Before you can get too much of a look, however...

Everyone covers their ears in reflex from an inhuman scream that rings out from the church.