Sympathetic to the plight of a fellow artist and quite charmed, Adira would say, "Oh how wonderful! I have nothing to occupy myself with for the rest of the day. Do you draw? Or paint?"

( Ah playing low wisdom characters is fun! Stranger danger? Never heard of it! )

Just out of curiosity, Adira will try to think if she's ever heard of Vallaki - History: 10

Vallaki doesn't ring a bell, in fact she doesn't seem to remember anything about this valley, strange considering it's only a few days' ride from where the party encountered the Vistani.

Vasili leads the way with Adira on his heels, "I paint, not very well, I must admit, but I do paint." He takes Adira out to an overgrown field just outside the town's limit. He poses Adira on a stump with the massive cliffside that overshadows the village of Barovia. Far above the low-hanging clouds, Adira, you can make out the ramparts of an imposing fortress.

Vasili points it out with his paintbrush, "So that's Castle Ravenloft. It's breathtaking isn't it? They say that's where Lord Strahd von Zarovich lives. Have you heard of him?"

Adira will look up at the castle with genuine interest. "I've never seen anything like it. I have heard his name several times since I came here. The vistani seem very loyal to him, but..." She will hesitate, not wanting to out Ismark in case it would bring him trouble, "Some folk in the village seem to think he is a terrible monster."

"The Vistani? But aren't you travelling with Vistani?" Vasili ask.

Aka and Bala, the vulture looks at you expectantly with ravenous eyes before returning to it's meal, cutting off chunks of flesh before greedily gobbling them down.

Adira will nod. "We are, but when the wagon broke they insisted we stay in town. Said it wasn't safe for us to stay with them." She'll shiver a bit, "I'm inclined to believe them. It gets very strange here at night."

"That it does," Vasili nods, "In Vallaki gates close when the sun sets. Nobody gets in or out after dark. You'll do well to do the same."

After several hours, dusk sets on you two. Vasili puts the finishing touches on his portrait and shows you a masterful rendition of yourself - it's almost lifelike. "What do you think?" he asks as he turns the canvas around so that you can see.

Bala will pat Aka on the back, "How do you feel about chicken for dinner?" He loads a bolt in his hand crossbow, puts it behind his back and becons the vulture with his other hand.

Animal handling: 10

We’re not killing that thing. You can’t eat vulture, they are decomposers. They eat dead things. As such, they probably have a bunch of stuff in their blood and stomach that we can’t have. He looks at the creature. Besides, that’s not How I roll, just killing things to kill them. That has not a lot of meat on it anyway. Come on, let’s go.

Oh, and bird, feel free to keep following us. Who knows, you could help us fend off werewolves. Aka chuckles. Now, let’s go. You’re not great with birds.

"Oh! It's lovely! You are quite talented! I don't think I've seen anyone paint so well."  Glancing over at the setting sun, she will sigh. "Ah it's gotten late. I should return to my companions." She will smile, "Thank you for the company. I hope I was an adequate model."

Vasili takes your hand, Adira, and plants a kiss on top of it. "You were magnificent, thank you so much. If you are ever in Vallaki, look me up."

He offers to walk you back to the burgomaster's manor where you'll be spending the night and afterwards makes his way back to his own lodgings.

Aka, the vulture cocks it head as you talk to it. Almost instinctively, it will hop after you on the ground following your command. It follows you back to the burgomaster's manor, watching you with it's beady eyes.

With the night's activities settling down, you all settle in for an eerily calm night in the burgomaster's manor. Ireena offers you all a hearty stew of potatoes and leek and glasses of wine before you make your way to the guest rooms to rest. For the first time since arriving in Barovia, things have felt somewhat normal... As long as you ignore the corpse of the old burgomaster lying cold in an open casket in the backroom. (Long rest everyone!)

The next morning there's a knock on your doors, Ismark's voice calls for you all by name. Pale dawn light filters in through the boarded up windows of the guest rooms. It's time for the burgomaster's funeral.

Those of you who agreed to help hoist the burgomaster's casket up on your shoulders and begin the arduous process of carrying the plump man to the opposite end of the village for burial. On your way, your motley crew pass townsfolk who have assembled on the sides of the street.

Most, like folk you've seen before, stare forlorn and emptily at the procession, forming a veritable sea of gray and brown. Others, however, seem to have more of a spark, they openly weep and hold loved ones dear, keeping the memory of the old burgomaster alive in their thoughts.

Ismark leads the procession, staring straight ahead, focused on his duty. You pass the rows of boarded up shops and windows, Bildrath's Mercantile, the Blood on the Vine tavern. The procession comes to a halt just at the edge of town. 

Atop a slight rise, against the roots of the pillar stone that supports Castle Ravenloft, stands a gray, sagging edifice of stone and wood. This church has obviously weathered the assaults of evil for centuries on end and is worn and weary. A bell tower rises toward the back, and flickering light shines through holes in the shingled roof. The rafters strain feebly against their load.

Taking a moment to breathe, Ismark pushes onwards towards the front of the church. Up close you can see the scars of many years of assault, the heavy wooden doors of the church are covered with claw marks and scarred by fire.

Ismark calls back to your party, "Somebody go inside and tell Father Donavich that we're ready for the burial."

Ericina will move into the church, her rat atill on her shoulder now. As she steps inside she seems to think better of leaving the animal out and carefully places it into pack. If she sees anyone in the building she will go over and tap them on the shoulder unless they make a move to interact with her first. "Ismark said to find you."

The doors open to reveal a ten-foot-wide, twenty-foot-long hall leading to a brightly lit chapel. The hall is unlit and reeks of mildew. Four doors, two on each side of the hall, lead to adjacent chambers.

You can see that the chapel is strewn with debris, and you hear a soft voice from within reciting a prayer. Suddenly, the prayer is blotted out by an inhuman scream that rises up from beneath the wooden floor.

A haggered man robed in dirty vestments, who you can only assume to be Donavich, rears up at the sound of your approach and the subsequent scream. "Who? Ah yes, of course. Let's head out there now shall we?" He says, ringing his hands.

Ericina nods as she looks to the floor and gently stomps on it. "I have never heard a floor yell so loudly. I think that you meed a carpenter to come in and fix it." She says innocently before moving to lead the way put of the church, smiling brightly as she all but skips out of the building to rejoin the others. "Found him!"

As he dreamed, Krolbrik tossed fitfully in his sleep. There was so much that he had seen of Barovia that weighed upon his heart.

The suffering of the people here was great in Barovia; everywhere he went in this town, there were faces of resignation, tired fear and exhaustion. The paladin's heart was not unmoved by seeing their pain; were it that he could only lift their burdens, he would do so, gladly. Such was his oath. Such was his way.

And then there was the matter of the Vistani. This truth too disturbed him. It was clear that Stanimir had led them all from Arglesmere in Faerun to this cursed place based on a lie; Strahd von Zarovich was naught but a vampire, a fiend of the night that preyed upon those too powerless and weary to stand up to his cruelty. But had he done so by malice or by press? What was he to make of these strange people who moved freely as they pleased? Were all of them willful collaborators? Or were some compliant out of fear. Krolbrik fought back the bubbling, instinctual rage that boiled within him at the thought of Stanimir; though a paladin sworn to Torm and given a great deal of spiritual freedom in so doing, his fearsome goblinoid ancestry was persistent and powerful. Gentle and quiet as he was, Krolbrik was nevertheless a hobgoblin, and with that came the need to check the fires of his temper against those who actively sought to offend him. In light of the many crimes of his ancestors but a precious five generations back and his other hobgoblin brethren, it was the least he could do as he carried his oath; to never attack without justification, to be slow to anger, slow to wrath. To start anew.

These unanswered questions gnawed at him into the morning, even as he helped to haul the burgomaster's casket with his hulking, mighty frame; despite the burgomaster's weight, the hulky paladin's chisled frame easily endured the load of the deceased man's corpse upon himself. As they stopped outside the church and took a moment to set the casket down outside the church to stretch their shoulders, Krolbrik took a moment to admire the scarred house of worship. He took a moment to try and recall where he'd seen this iconography before.

Religion: 19

Evil has ground these folk down long enough. Perhaps it may be that the days of this land's suffering, Torm willing, are at an end.

And for the moment, Krolbrik was content to enjoy the moment to grim quiet of the morning light... until he heard this ghastly, horrified, torturous, unearthly scream.

Having been in Barovia long enough (which was about two days at this point, perhaps) to know that such things often meant nothing good, Krolbrik was officially alarmed. He clutched his pendant of Torm, reciting a prayer in asking for his wisdom, as he reached out into his surroundings, looking to sense something unearthly.

Krolbrik uses Divine Sense, seeking to find the unholy.

Hearing the scream, Adira will push forward and stand in the doorway, "What's happened? Are you alright?" 

Ericina will give her  dopy smile as she nods. "I am alright  but the floor is screaming for some reason..." As she speaks she shrugs and looks to the others.

(GUYS THEY FIXED MY ACCOUNT! THERE WAS A BUG WITH TWITCH AND THE DEVELOUPERS HAVE BEEN WORKING ON IT FOR MONTHS. AHAHAHA I HAVE A VOICE AGAIN .YAAAAAY!.....now what on earth has happened to roux during this hahaha)

(Woo hoo! Yeah! Hmm.... maybe we find you screaming under the floor? Wonder if you still level up with the rest of us.)

(Hey guys! Sorry I got hit with a surprise bout of sickness the last couple of days so I haven't been on to update. Welcome back, Roux! Go ahead and feel free to boost your character up to level 3 with everyone else. :)

Roux, you join the party as they proceed to the church in the town of Barovia where you are waylaid for the time being. It is a desolate and rundown village in the shadow of Castle Ravenloft where you have heard tale of a vampire lord named Strahd von Zarovich. The party met a man named Ismark, whose father, the burgomaster, was killed in an altercation with Strahd who has made several advances on Ismark's sister Ireena. Ismark has asked for your help in taking Ireena away from Barovia to the town of Vallaki in the west where he believes she will be safe; but first, Ireena has asked that you help her bury her father at the church of the Morninglord where you now gather. 

Father Donavich leads you by the shoulder, Ericina, turning you towards the front door, "Yes, yes... don't worry about that." Adira, at your entrance the Father gives a start, "It's nothing, really. A trick of the mind, come, let us bury our dead while it is still dawn-light." He gestures towards the door.

Krolbrik, taking a moment to analyze the iconography of the church, it does carry similar motifs to temples you've seen in your studies. A rising sun is engraved over the doorway 'The Morninglord,' Ireena and Ismark called him, where you're from he goes by the name of Lathander, the good god of dawn and renewal.

Hearing a piercing and inhuman cry, you open your senses in an attempt to ferret out any evil beings in the area. Glancing around, the same dull evil scent that pervades Barovia is still present here, but nothing especially foul registers. You follow the source of the cry into the building,  the chapel is in shambles, with overturned and broken pews littering the dusty floor. Dozens of candles mounted in candlesticks and candelabras light every dusty corner in a fervent attempt to rid the chapel of shadows. At the far end of the church sits a claw-scarred altar, behind which hangs a long, thick rope that stretches up into the bell tower. 

From beneath the chapel floor, you hear a young man’s voice cry out, “Father! I’m starving!” With your divine sense, Krolbrik, the noxious odor of evil grows stronger the closer you get to the floorboards. A gap between them floods your senses with the powerful, pungent stench of pure evil waiting just below. Although the room itself is brightly lit, what trickles through the floor is not enough to see by.

Ericina jumps at the strange sound and grips the scimitar at her hip. She frees it from its sheathe and slashes it at the floor. "See I told you the floor has been yelling!!!"