Galqarin - Grinning, Rictavio leans in close to you.  "Oh-ho-ho, fear not friend - for the Carnival has a way of seeking out those in need at just the correct time." he says, knowingly.  Lowering his voice still he continues;

"Even in the bleakest of times we must not lose hope friend.  Though the fight can seem lost, and defeat inevitable, even the smallest of lights can pierce through the thickest of mists."

Rictavio chuckles, takes a seat at a nearby stool, and proceeds to enjoy his drink.

Night - Day 5 - The Blue Water Inn (Taproom)

Dormark, Sandu, Valerie - Moments later you meet outside the Church of St. Andral and proceed to make your way to the Blue Water Inn; an uneventful trip down the cobbled streets, the only light now coming from the street lamps.

When you near the establishment you see the orange glow of torch/fire light pouring out of the windows and entrance.  Though the night seems to be winding down the din of activity can be heard.

Entering you immediately spot the hulking figure of Galqarin.  He sits at a stool near the bar seemingly in conversation with an overly animated, bombastic, character; an older man, half-elf, dressed in gaudy clothing.

The barkeep, a gruff-looking man in his mid-thirties, chuckles away as he samples some of his own stock.

Galqarin - You notice the rest of your travelling companions enter the tavern out of the corner of your eye.  Urwin chuckles and says, "Are these the others the rooms are for Gal?  Mus' admit - they certainly stand-out."

Galqarin looks round before nodding at Urwin. Standing out - not what he set out to do. He waves in the direction of his companions, signalling that they should join him at the bar.

Valerie walks to the table and gives the old man a nod. 

Before Dormark and Sandu rejoin the party.

Sandu you see Dormark go into an alley and an orange glow  appears out of the alley. Rounding the corner you see Dormark engulf in flames. You watch as the blaze surrounds the warforge, but it doesn't seem to damage any of the buildings on the side. Also Dormark doesn't seem to be in distress, but you see his form changing within the flame.  As quickly as the fire started it disappears. Standing in what was the middle of the blaze is Dormark except  Dormark doesn't look the same. When you first met Dormark he stood 6ft tall. He his now 6 and a half feet tall and even with the taller frame appears to as bulky as he was before. Dormark turning around sees Sandu and says, "Sandu you where there?"

Quote from Losman >>

Before Dormark and Sandu rejoin the party.

Sandu you see Dormark go into an alley and an orange glow  appears out of the alley. Rounding the corner you see Dormark engulf in flames. You watch as the blaze surrounds the warforge, but it doesn't seem to damage any of the buildings on the side. Also Dormark doesn't seem to be in distress, but you see his form changing within the flame.  As quickly as the fire started it disappears. Standing in what was the middle of the blaze is Dormark except  Dormark doesn't look the same. When you first met Dormark he stood 6ft tall. He his now 6 and a half feet tall and even with the taller frame appears to as bulky as he was before. Dormark turning around sees Sandu and says, "Sandu you where there?"

Sandu stepped out into Dormark's view. He had not tried to hide his presence and did not intend on trying now: the warforged clearly knew he was there. He strode up to the metal man.

'Excuse me but were you just on FIRE?!' He stood before Dormark, already slightly annoyed by the fact that he had to crane his neck a larger degree just to see Dormark's face. 'And did you grow? How? You're made of metal. Metal!'

He tapped Dormark's chest with his knuckles to emphasise his statement. 'Metal doesn't just grow a half a foot out of nowhere.'

Sandu stepped back a metre and threw his arms up. 'What gives?'

"It is in the nature of all living things to grow. Even the world as old as it is still changes," says Dormark looking at Sandu. "It was a gift from Moradin, he granted my frame power so I may accomplish the goal I am seeking. It doesn't compare to what I've lost, but it should make the fights going forward easier," says the Warforge. Dormark says this as a matter of fact, but looking at his new frame and knowing his skill with a mace. You can only imagine the beating the Warforge would give to his targets.

(Dormark has pick up the crusher feat for those who are wondering why he change, the size change is for RP effect as he has grown to be a crushing machine lol.)

Quote from Losman >>

"It is in the nature of all living things to grow. Even the world as old as it is still changes," says Dormark looking at Sandu. "It was a gift from Moradin, he granted my frame power so I may accomplish the goal I am seeking. It doesn't compare to what I've lost, but it should make the fights going forward easier," says the Warforge. Dormark says this as a matter of fact, but looking at his new frame and knowing his skill with a mace. You can only imagine the beating the Warforge would give to his targets.

(Dormark has pick up the crusher feat for those who are wondering why he change, the size change is for RP effect as he has grown to be a crushing machine lol.)

Sandu had half a mind to raise a fuss about the impossibility of it all when he realised that "Because my god has decreed it so" had actually been used as a valid defense back in several of the places he had been. Stranger things had happened so far, his own abilities a prime example, and if magic was involved, let alone the gods, there was not much room for debate.

'So that's what: warforged puberty?' He concluded his train of through with a smirk. 'Are you old enough to drink now?' The smirk had widened into a grin.

'Come on, let's head to the Blue Water inn and join the others.' He patted Dormark on the back. He did feel a bit different as Sandu's hand stung a little bit more on the place where he had hit the warforged and misjudged his swing. More solid was the best Sandu could describe it. 'I'll buy you a drink to celebrate.'

They certainly were an odd pair as they entered the inn: a six-and-a-half foot metal man accompanied by a raggedy lad who looked as thin as the other was bulky. Sandu looked around to spot the rest of their group, something he thought would not be difficult as they did tend to stand out.

“I guess you could it that. I’m around the age that some humans experience the thing you call puberty. Also thank Sandu, it has been a bit since I’ve felt so connect with Moradin. It is something to celebrate,” says Dormark following Sandu to the tavern.

“This Rictavio”, Galqarin keeps the introductions simple. “And these are…companions of the Raven”.

Addressing the others he explains with a wine-fuelled chuckle , “Ioben gone bed. He tired out by the ladies”.

Sandu cocked an eyebrow at the bugbear's remark. Somehow he did not picture Barovia as a place to feature ladies of the night. 

'If that's what he's into.' He replied with a shrug. He turned slightly on his heels to motion the bartender for two ales and took a seat at the table. 'So you made a friend, Galqarin?'

Sandu addressed the one introduced as Rictavio. 'Awfully colourful: not afraid you'll stand out?' 

Sandu - Rictavio glances briefly over the group gathered in front of him; a large metal man, a small dwarven man, a holy paladin, a large hulking figure with a raven mask, and now a rather inquisitive young man - not to mention the ladies man from before.  He raises an eyebrow before smiling broadly and chuckling, "It may be true that the great Rictavio does not quite blend into the local surroundings quite as well as his present company.  But, my dear man, why would I?  It is not my style to hide away in the shadows!"

He looks around and motions to those around him, the tavern's patrons, and in an exuberant way declares, "Besides, why would I be afraid of standing out when I find myself surrounded by such friends?".  A couple of the patrons give a supportive cheer whilst the majority pay him little heed.

One of the young 'lordlings', the skinnier of the two, clearly drunk stumbles towards you, "Errr... you ain't pickin' on ol' Rictavio is ya?  Stickin' tha' large nose where it don't belong?".  His speech is slurred and he looks shaky on his feet, "'cause I dun' think ya wanna be startin' somethin'?  Does you know who I am?".  His companion -- a shorter, fatter, equally as drunk, young man -- walks beside him, "Am sure they meant nothin' by it...  besides they look like they can 'andle 'emselves."  He hisses the last part, yet not as silently as he believes.

((Nikolai & Karl Wachter - 'The Wachter Brothers'))

"Friends!  Friends!"  Rictavio says, wrapping his arms around the two young mens' shoulders, "They're no trouble, leave them be."  He proceeds to lead them outside of the tavern.

"Sorry about that."  Urwin says gruffly from behind the tavern's bar, "Bloomin' Wachter brothers sometimes like to forget who owns this place.  Come, your friend - Ioben - has already paid for your rooms; in the meantime can I fix you up with any food?  We do serve a mean wolf steak."

Dormark looks at the backs of the two leaving the bar turns to Urwin and says, “It is alright, but if they continued to insult my friend I was going to throw them both in the nearest rain barrel I could find. I don’t need any food, but I’ll take the ale my friend bought me. What’s your name sir, and have you heard any rumors of late?”

Dormark - Urwin waves his hand, shooing in the direction of the Wachter brothers, "Oh, pay them no heed, friend.  Those two are all talk."  He leans closer to you, speaking under his breath, "... they also have connections.  Trust me friend, though the two of them could do with a hard life lesson -- especially that Nikolai -- it could only end poorly for you in the end."

He straightens up, "The name's Urwin, Urwin Martikov, pleasure to meet you.  Rumours you say?  Sure, the folk in here tell all sorts of wild stories...  not sure whether you should put much stock in 'em though."

Once more he drops his voice, "Now, it's no secret that the Wachter's and the town's burgomaster do not exactly get along.  The two esteemed gentlemen that you suggested might need to have an intimate meeting with a barrel...  Well they hold no love for Vargas, so take this rumour with a pinch o'salt; they reckon that they've seen odd occurrences from the Burgomaster's mansion.  Namely, they reckon they saw purple flashes of light emanating from the attic."  Urwin's face looks grim, "Who knows what foul happenin's 'ave been going on?"

"What makes you ask?  You wouldn't happen to be searching for work, would you?  Might be I 'ave job for trustworthy folk, an' if Gal vouches for you, you're alright with me."

“There is that, I was also wondering if you seen any more unusual customers other than present company. Also no offense to your fine establishment, I would like to find a more permanent base of operation for are group. Preferably one with forge as a attachment. Talking with Father Lucien sounds like we would need to go through the Burgomaster directly, but never hurts to hear if such a place was open to the market at the moment,” says Dormark.

Quote from Losman >>

“There is that, I was also wondering if you seen any more unusual customers other than present company. Also no offense to your fine establishment, I would like to find a more permanent base of operation for are group. Preferably one with forge as a attachment. Talking with Father Lucien sounds like we would need to go through the Burgomaster directly, but never hurts to hear if such a place was open to the market at the moment,” says Dormark.

'You're planning on staying here?' Sandu asked, his eyes wide with incredulity upon hearing the word permanent. 

“Sadly Sandu we don’t know how long our stay in Barovia will be. It could be days, months, years before we leave these lands plus I believe a man I’ve been searching for may be in these lands,” says Dormark taking a sip of his drink.

Dormark - Urwin nods, "I would bid you tread carefully around the Burgomaster... But, aye, he would be the man ta speak ta over such a request.  Mayhaps, if you were able to show him your craft/skill, he might grant you what you seek."  The barkeeper appears downcast as he continues, "Should you allow, I would speak in your favour should you wish to petition the Burgomaster about opening a shop, or a stall.  Our fair town is always in need of honest traders... as you have no doubts encountered already, such a thing is a rare commodity."

"In terms of other 'unusual customers'?  Nothing that comes to mind... present company excluded."  He gives you a large grin.  "Quite a few different sortsa folk travel through the town... I could keep my eyes peeled for you - so to speak.  Did you have any particular 'unusual customers' in mind?"

'Speaking of,' Sandu remembered a name when Urwin mentioned the trouble regarding traders, 'Henrik van der Voort: he's the local coffin maker, right? What can you tell about him?'

Night - Day 5 - 'Claustrophobia'

ALL - The evening draws to close and the remaining patrons filter out of the Blue Water Inn, returning home for the night.  Urwin proceeds to show you up to your rooms at the top of the stairs, Ioben is already sound asleep - the events of the day undoubtedly taking their toll.  The rooms, though compact, are clean and the beds look cosy and inviting; wolf furs are heaped atop each bed.

Sleep is quick coming for the party; wearied after a long, hard day, they sink into the comfortable mattresses.  As has become usual over the course of their time in Barovia, their sleep is assailed by vivid sounds and images - a 'dream', or perhaps a nightmare.

SCRATCHING! Frantic scratching, wood splintering, darkness all around. SOBBING! A deep mournful sobbing, between deep breaths. A gap of light? Freedom? Then voices, women’s voices. Please don’t let them see me, please dear Morninglord, if you exist - I am sorry.  The thoughts are yours but foreign, as though experiencing events through another's mind.  You feel restricted, confined, claustrophobic as you feel wood pressing all around you.

“Was it one of His?”, the question crawls with uncertainty.

“No.” a short, sharp riposte.

“Then who? Operating under our very noses?!”

The other voice sighs, “Does it really matter, they dealt with it quickly enough.”

“I’d rather know… But, no, you’re right - there are more important matters to attend to.  Do we have them?”

A brief pause, followed by a short shallow laugh, “Aye - they're here alright... was not expecting it to be so easy.”

The bones, the cursed bones, how I would have taken that bloody deal back.  Once more the thoughts which enter your mind are not your own but rather the internal monologue of another, this time accompanied with strong feelings of guilt and sadness.

All around you is blackness, save a thin sliver of light which provides little hope.

“He will be pleased now they are in our possession."

"Undoubtedly so... He informs me that their power over the church has already diminished."

"You mean He..?"

"Straight through the front doors, sister.  A glorious sight to behold!"

Gods what have I done.  Who have I helped.

"What of our friend?"

"Oh... he's still very much of use.  AREN'T YOU HENRIK!"

There is a loud hammering on the wood above you, dislodging dust, causing you to cough and splutter.  "OH GODS!  PLEASE - LET ME OUT!" the voice which comes out of your mouth is not your own, it sounds old and weak... strained.

LAUGHTER!  Loud mocking laughter.  Light blinds your senses.  'May the Morninglord have mercy on my soul!'  - your mind screams.

As you awaken sunlight pours in through your bedroom window, a stark contrast to the day prior.  The sleep has left you feeling renewed, the sunlight bringing the hopes of a new day.  Though only 5 days have transpired since you first set foot in this foreign land, you feel as though a great deal has changed since those initial steps; you have met new friends, uncovered new threats, and saved an orphanage from a truly dark fate.

Your experiences so far have moulded you, better preparing you for what is to come.  The pressing matter?  Why to recover and return the bones of Saint Andral to their rightful resting place.  Simple.