Errol:

"Greetings Ismark," says Errol as he partakes in the proffered beverage.  "Speaking for myself, I am curious as to what is going on here and interested in helping your sister.  If she has been bitten by a vampire, though, is there anything we can do for her, even if we find her?" he continues, thinking what he might know of vampires and the effects of their bite.

Religion on Vampires:  13

"We are also looking for the sad woman's daughter, Gertruda, if we can rescue her as well," he adds.

Falzaren will listen carefully yo the discussions, passing on the drinks.

Nadariel will sip on his drink while listening.

"She has not yet shown any signs of it affecting her. My father seemed to think that as long as she was not taken by Strahd, Ireena will be safe." Ismark said as he crossed his arms in thought. "I had heard the cries from her home but I have been to busy thinking of what to do with my sister. If Gertruda had been gone for long I am afraid that she is more then likely dead..."

Errol

Errol:

"So, where is your sister now, Ismark, and how might we be of help?" asks Errol, eager to get to the meat of the mystery but still wary.

Belmarm actually turns at the last comment from the Ladies, then looks to the group's druid. He leans over to whisper on that point. "I'm all for a good story. Less so for an unnecessary squabble. Keep an eye on them if you must, but leave it there, eh? For our sake?" On that note, he pulls away to pay more apparent attention on Ismark. "Indeed. In fact, shall we be off to there? The drinks are fine, and rest appreciated. But we have energy enough to at least pay a visit, and make whatever arrangements we can with your guidance."

Tierra stares at the three women for a moment before leaving them alone and sitting down. "If they don't want to come off as aggressive they should stare so much," she grumbles just loud enough for Belmarm to hear.

"Ireena is currently at the manor that the Burgomaster is given. So that she does not run into trouble we have agreed it is best for her to stay there." Ismark explains as he turns to them with a serious face. "If you wish we can go there but it would be best to do so before the sun sets."

Falzaren will stand up, “Then let us go.”

Errol:

Checking with the others to see if they agree, Errol will speak for them if it appears we are in agreement, "Then lead on, Ismark.  Let us get to the manor before nightfall so we can help protect her.  Perhaps we can discuss other things we might do to help out this town--the spirit in Barovia seems...crushed."

While walking:

”What kind of dangers are there here and why didn’t you ask the Flaming Fist for help?”

Ismark nods and leads the way out of the tavern. "If you need to buy anything then you can shop there but perhaps it would be best to do that later." As you walks you pass the house of the crying woman once more, soon coming upon the house.

A weary-looking mansion squats behind a rusting iron fence. The iron gates are twisted and torn. The right gate lies cast aside, while the left swings lazily in the wind. The stuttering squeal and clang of the gate repeats with mindless precision. Weeds choke the grounds and press with menace upon the house itself. Yet, against the walls, the growth has been tramped down to create a path all about the domain. Heavy claw markings have stripped the once-beautiful finish of the walls. Great black marks tell of the fires that have assailed the mansion. Not a pane nor a shard of glass stands in any window. All the windows are barred with planks, each one marked with stains of evil omen.

“What happened here? That looks like a warzone.”

Errol:

Keeping his eyes open for clues, Errol can’t miss the implication that savage beasts or fell magic assaults this house on a nightly basis.  With a look of sympathy at Ismark, he says “I can see why you prefer the tavern.  What manner of creature assaults the walls here?”

"Taverns are loud and annoying," Tierra responds, "Not to mention crowded. I prefer the outdoors thank you."

"Normal beasts and undead a like have been attacking. It happens on a nightly basis. So far none have managed to get to Ireena." Ismark says as he moves to open the door, getting a bit of resistance before he talks with whoever is inside.

Errol:

Errol assesses distances from the manor to the gate, trying to decide if he could target creatures outside the gate from the rooftop with his wand (120 foot range).  

It seems that he would but it would seemingly be best to go inside. By now the party notices that the sun will be going down in the next hour or so.

As the party makes there way towards the manor.

You hear the sound of small, wooden wheels rolling across damp cobbles. You trace the lonely sound to a hunched figure bundled in rags, pushing a rickety wooden cart through the fog.

Errol:

Errol casts an eye towards the approaching figure with the cart, ever alert for clues.  As usual, he evaluates both what he can see, hear, and smell, as well as reading body language for hints of deception or subterfuge.  (Passive Perception/Insight until/unless the figure interacts with them).

To Ismark, he says, "Assuming there is a secure place to stand on your roof this evening, I think we might be able to discourage any nocturnal predators at the gate.  But first, of course, we should enter past your security and....wait--who is that?" he interrupts himself as he sees the figure approaching, the timing of the encounter suspicious as the party is negotiating entry past the gate...

"This Lord certainly has it out for you and yours." Belmarm absently commented on. He takes a few seconds to copy one of the Omens into his book before catching up to the others. "I assume the markings are your family's work? Or made in mockery by the undead? Undead who apparently are fond of using fire, or so the scorch marks suggests." He adds before finally noting the figure through Erol and the cart noise.

"Now that's a curious sight. And so close to nightfall too..." He shoots Ismark a questioning look.