Ben, as you release the holy energy into the fighter, you feel the it soothe him. He becomes calm and more at ease, but you get the feeling that your efforts were not entirely successful. In previous applications of these rites, a certain warmth and clarity is felt between yourself and the applied person.

Ooc: If you'd like to learn more about these sensations, please roll either a History(Int), Medicine (Wis), or Religion (Int) check. Depending on the choice, insight will be provided.

Rumble days "given that that have a tendency to wear large game as pets, I'm best not to approach them. I'm gonna retire upstairs for thus evening." He says with a large yawn.

A short courteous bow follows as he makes his way around the room. On his way, he nudges into the lavishly dressed man as if he were pushed by another. "Oh, I'm very sorry." He says as he makes no eye contact but continues up stairs.

Sleight of hand to pick pocket something: 20

Ismark looks back at the men and to Rumble. "Fair enough. Best not to stir up trouble."

Stumbling into one of the sumptuously dressed men, you expertly lift a keyring with two ornate keys. One a small silver key with a cursive 'W' embossed upon it and the other a rather old and rusted key that has seen better days. The latter is nicked and heavily scratched; much at odds with the other silver key. As you continue walking off, he says angrily with slurred speech, "Oi, watch it, freak. Watch yer step, or I'll see t' it ye visit the stocks." The man stands up but drunkenly loses balance and falls back into his seat, returning to his beverage.

"hmm. Interesting..."

Religion check 9

Ben, reflecting on an ancient tomb you had once read during your religious training and what the group had mentioned regarding Graeme's situation provides some insight. The party mentioned he had been bitten by a werewolf, and when you had healed his wounds, everything seemed righted. However, as it stands, it appears all is not well with the fighter.

The ability to change or metamorphose into any animal in general is known as theriantropy, but specifically into a wolf it is called lycanthropy. In its natural humanoid form, a creature cursed by lycanthropy appears as its normal self. A humanoid creature can be afflicted with the curse of lycanthropy after being bitten by a lycanthrope, or if one or both of its parents are lycanthropes. Ancient and secluded clans and cults have been formed composed of such cursed, headed by a dominant specimen and followed by the rest under this one tier hierarchy. Pagan warriors who would wear wolfskins and embrace bestial urges were rumoured to be the first to embrace this curse. Those cursed are traditionally shunned and feared, and they are particularly vulnerable to silver.

You recall a priest performing purifying rites, successfully removing the affliction through use of a remove curse spell, but a natural born lycanthrope can be freed of the curse only with a wish spell. A lycanthrope can either resist its curse or embrace it. By resisting the curse, a lycanthrope retains its normal alignment and personality while in humanoid form. It lives its life as it always has, burying deep the bestial urges raging inside it. However, when the full moon rises, the curse becomes too strong to resist, transforming the individual into its beast form - or into a horrible hybrid form that combines animal and humanoid traits. When the moon wanes, the beast within can be controlled once again. 

Embracing the curse allows the afflicted learn to master their shapechanging ability and can assume beast form or hybrid form at will. Most lycanthrope that embrace their bestial natures succumb to bloodlust, becoming evil, opportunistic creatures that prey on the weak. Killing an accursed will transform the person back to their default state.

"Well we shoukd rest easy for today and tomorrow we can set out to the church and make sure it's secure. If it's not start looking into other places." Allen will finish his soup and also retire for the evening.

The party retires for the evening, yet slumber comes restlessly. Graeme's sleep is fitful, once again. Ireena weeps in her sleep, and Ismark rests fitfully as well.

Rumble, you dream of the monastery where you grew up. Young again, a misfit and unable to connect to those monks around you. Shunned and detached, it's rather lonely. The sky is choked in dark overcast, never breaking despite the sun's best efforts. The day your master came to relocate you, the very day you found your true place, it's not the same as it you recall. He takes a good look at you and states you don't belong with any tradition and that you'll never be accepted anywhere.

Allen, it's a normal day with the family. Your father never left that fateful day, never abandoned you. A lazy, abusive, and a drunk of strange mutterings, your father not an ideal patriarch in the hate of his devil-kin son. The call of the Raven Queen is never uttered, and a normal life is experienced. The kind mother you once remember now defeated she cowed.

Ben, inducted into holy training, life is a stark contrast to how you recall. Training is difficult, and all those mentees around you grasp holy rites and achieve enlightenment with seeming ease. Elder Viskan pays you a visit, another earful to be certain. His once joyful disposition turned aggressive and negative. Initiating extra lessons, something just doesn't click, and the dunce is kicked out as a perceived lack of faith. With nothing but the clothes on your back, you're excommunicated on a particularly rainy day with a drizzle that soaks you to the bone. Chilled, there's nothing to do but start all over once again.

Back in reality, each of you wake up with a start. What passes for morning in this dark land of Barovia dawns yet again. Downstairs, a bleak Ireena and Ismark peck at their now cold breakfast near the tavern's hearth. The only other patron is the elderly man from last night who is engrossed in an old book.

The morning is yours. Welcome to a dreary level 3 in the reality where Count Strahd von Zarovich rules with immeasurable dark power, his corruption encompassing all the land.

WOoooP Finally 3!!

Rumble tosses and turned under the thrall of this inescapable dream. He can't help but feel the emotions of guilt from that day. The day Rolan advised him to seek the shadow of the volcano and turned him away. Should he have turned back? Should he go back? Why? No. Why should he? He did not ask to be raised by the iron soul monks- they merely adopted him! But... Does he owe them something in return?

Of course not! It's time to forge a new path- an individual path. The world is full of secrets and hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.

But still. "You'll never be accepted anywhere." Those words resonated with Rumble as he awoke with an ashy smoke clinging to his fur like powdered snow on a fur tree.

Visibly conflicted, he quietly decends down the stairs to join Irena and Ismark for a light breakfast.

Waking groggy from the tossing and turning Allen curses under his breath. "Damn this place...." Getting dress he pulls his hoodie up concealing his horns. Allen dress will sit in silince as he prepares his spell then checks on Graeme.

Allen, Graeme wakes up with a start as you check on him, but he seems alright. "Oi, had a heck o' a dream. Could use a heaping plateful for breakfast."

As the group meets downstairs, Urwin drops off a warm porridge and some flaky scones. As he delivers meals for each, he genially says, "My apologies as to the lack of wine accompaniment. Our supplies are dwindling due to an issue at the winery. Please accept these freshly baked scones as a breakfast supplement."

Ismark and Ireena appear down, not saying much and picking at their plates. Meanwhile, Graeme devours his first plate in what seemed like seconds. Upon receiving a second, also ravenously consumes it with an abundant gusto. During this time, a few locals enter and order some food and take a table a fair distance away.

“Well it’s good to see that you’re energy is back, Graeme.” Allen smiles as he pats Graemes back “Now let’s go eat.” As they begin to eat Allen will strike up some conversation with the owner “What do you mean? What Issues?”

Urwin looks dismayed, sighs, and states, "Well, my father runs the winery, The Wizard of Wines, and the latest shipments haven't arrived in some time. Typically, a wagonload arrives monthly, but even the last shipment had had less than a half-cart's supply. Without it, many Barovians will lose their last shred of hope and succumb to utter despair as there isn't much joy in these lands." He runs his hands through his feather-like hair and continues, "You lot obviously don't belong here. Perhaps I could hire you to look into this? I can surely make it worth your while."

"Perhaps, let me ask you this how is the church here? Is it a good church?" Allen continues to eat as he tries to get more info about the church.

Urwin ruffles his raven black hair and says, "Well, I can't say from personal experience, but Saint Andral's Church is the town's refuge from the darkness. From what I've seen, it has a fairly dedicated following. Father Lucian is highly regarded for bolstering and raising Vallaki's spirits though the Morninglord, but in my opinion, the Almighty have long departed us. To get there, just head East, and you can't miss it."

“Interesting, well we might take you up on that offer but first we have our own business to attend to.” As Allen fishes his breakfast “Is there anything else we should know about the town?”

Rumble seems interested at the story about the windey deliveries.

"How far is the vinyard from here?" Rumble asks.

Urwin thinks for a moment and responds, "The Festival of the Blazing Sun in two days. I would suggest keeping your noses down. It would be wise to not express distaste for the Burgomaster or the festival, if you know what's good for you. Keep a smile on your faces. Lastly, be careful around the Watcher family; they vie for power against the Burgomaster, and it's great to not be associated. They say strange things go on in their mansion."

To answer Rumble's question, he adds, "The family winery is about two days out West from here. Staying on Old Svalich Road, head South at the Raven River Crossroads. The road will turn to gravel, and you can't miss it."

"I see, well thank you for your advice. After we're done with our busniess we will look into your families winery." Allen will give Urwin a slight nod "Now then, Ireena are you ready to check on the church?"

Urwin, visibly relieved and satisfied, bows deeply. "I can assure you we will make it worth your while. Thank you. You know not how much it means not to just my family but all within these lands." With a hand on his chest, he thanks the party and leaves to clear a nearby table from the last patrons.

While Ireena wakes up rather content, this poor excuse for a morning is the first time the group has seen her disheveled as the day begins. With her plate essentially untouched, bags under her eyes and hair unkempt, she looks at Allen and simply nods. Ismark clears his throat and replies to the question, "Ah, yes. Rumour has it that's the safest place for her."

The group leaves the inn just after Graeme ravages his plate and heads out into the what would be morning. Much unlike Barovia, where nobody was out and about, there are several citizens walking around in their drab garb. Much like in previous experiences, the people stay to themselves. You're able to make your way to the church unmolested.

This slouching, centuries-old stone church has a bulging steeple in the back and walls lined with cracked, stained glass windows depicting pious saints and glorious depictions of the sun. A fence of wrought iron encloses a garden of gravestones next to the church. A thin mist creeps among the graves, obscuring a young man with spade involved in digging a grave. The church doors open to reveal a multitude of pews with a dais at the far end under a bright golden sun statue. At one of the far pews sits a man in clean looking white robes. His bald head reflects the shine from the statue's reflection, and it appears he's deep in prayer.