Cerio clicks his tongue in disappointment at the doll. “Welp, nothing t’see there. No treasure, no coin, just a lost toy.”
Walking in the rain, Cerio’s spirits are lifted slightly at the sight of the vineyards. A bit of wine would make all this dreariness a wee bit more tolerable, for sure.
"Yeesh, 'nother drifter? They's thick as flies out here."Cerio wonders aloud at the old man by the treeline. He also can't help but notice the potentially valuable shiny objects hanging from him. Is that a silver teapot? He cups a hand over his mouth and calls out to the man. “We ain’t got no pastries, ‘n no coin neither!”
"Yes I saw the strange doll following us." Dadeveth agrees, looking behind them to where the figure last hid among the trees along the road. When she turns back several of her companions have rushed ahead towards the strange man waving at them. She canters forward, moving to join the stranger as well.
You are certain that, as you pass, the raggy, life-sized, doll's head moves, following your steps. This is further confirmed when, as you take the trail westwards, toward the vineyard, it slowly gets to its feet and skulks after you.
Intermittently, you check to see whether the doll is following. Surely enough it seems to be hot on your heels, slinking into the shadows to avoid detection.
Sandu felt uneasy as the group walked onwards to the vineyard. He could not really pinpoint it but he felt a chill down his spine every so often. Not from the cold, though it was never truly warm even when walking in the Barovian sun, but something else. Like he was being watched. But that would be preposterous. Which is what he would believe if this was anywhere else than Barovia. Sandu addressed the animated armour and nudged it to walk behind him to protect his back. There was something following them but he could not just venture off and stab it a bunch of times.
A light drizzle begins to fall. Unpainted fences blindly follow the trail, which skirts north of a sprawling vineyard before bending south toward a stately building. The fog takes on ghostly forms as it swirls between the neatly tended rows of grapevines. Here and there, you see rope-handled half-barrels used for hauling grapes. Overhead a raven lets out a shrill alarming call before flying northwards towards the treeline.
Your eyes follow the flight of the raven. It is then that you see an elderly man wearing a dark green cloak and cowl standing at the edge of the trees, beckoning you; his arms waving quickly, implying that you should meet with him urgently.
Sandu was cut off by the cry of a raven. Tracking the bird with his eyes eventually made them settle on an older gent standing among the trees. His green cloak nearly obscured him against the backdrop of the forest. The man waved them over.
'Guess we're being expected?' Sandu posed the question to the others. He took the man's invitation and went up to him.
'Are you the proprietor of the local vineyard, the so-called Wizard of Wines?'
The old man looks you all up and down. "Coin? Pastries? Bleedin' 'eck, what in the hells are you talking about?!" the old man yells over the wind and rain. "There's me, stopping you all from strollin' into a bleedin' field fulla Needle Blights. Y'probably woulda walked right into 'em as well, wouldn't ya?" He rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.
"Who am I?!"the man answers Dallid. "Wha' d'ya mean who am I!"his agitation growing now, though you get no sense of aggression. "I'm Davian Martikov and this is -- make that was -- me bleedin' winery." His voice softens a little, "up until recently me an' mine were responsible for makin' mos' of the alcohol in this gods-forsaken place." Rubbing his back he slowly turns to the woods. "Where are they? Bleedin' scared o' their own shadows,"he mutters to himself.
"OI! S'alrigh'. They're friends, y'all can come out now,"he yells at the trees. Lowering his voice once more he mutters, "bleedin' family, can't live with 'em, can't live withou' 'em." Slowly but surely, eight other people emerge from the treeline; four adults and four children.
"Tha's Adrian an' Elvir, my sons,"he says by way of introduction, pointing at two of the men, which look like younger versions of the Davian. "An' tha's Steffania, m' daughter -- only one with 'alf a brain -- an' her 'usband, Dag." A man and woman sheepishly walk out of the woods and stand behind the old man. "Oh an' 'e know's 'is name sounds like Dog... no need to tell 'im, get's a little touchy." The man scowls behind Davian's back.
"Those 'ellraisers are Dag an' Steffania's,"Davian says gesturing to the children. "Claudiu,"a teenage boy, roughly 13 or 14 years of age, steps forward. "Martin an' Viggo,"twin boys step forward and mockingly bow. "An' o'course, little Yolanda,"you note Davian's voice soften significantly as he introduces the youngest of his brood, pride in his eyes. The young girl, a toddler, hides behind her mother's legs and buries her face into her dress.
"'fraid the winery is quite off-limits at the moment. Been taken over y'see. Blasted Blights and a few good-for-nothin' Druids. These ain't yer run-of-the-mill druids, these serve 'er," he says, assuming that you all know who he's referring to. "'course, we can't produce wine whilst they're there, they chased out of our own 'ome."
"We tried to fight," Elvir volunteers, stepping forward. "Attempted to take out some of her forces from Yester Hill. Unfortunately,"he looks around at the others, who all look down in shame, "well, we were unsuccessful."
Adrian places a comforting hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Aye, we gave it a good go. Attempted to take out as many of those Druids as possible -- take them out and the blights drop. Unfortunately, a group of them are, as dad mentioned, currently residing within the winery."
"Pop'ycock an' bal'erdash!"Davian curses. "Gave i' a good go? Wha' talk is tha' -- gave i' a good go -- pfaaah!" He spits on the floor as though removing a bad taste from his mouth. "Truth is, they stole more than jus' th' winery." There is deep-seated anger and hatred behind Davian's eyes.
"Well, 'bout time we run into someone with some common sense!" Cerio drops his pack and sits down to rest his haunches while the group is introduced. He doesn't get a sinister vibe from these folks and he feels pretty comfortable in their presence. More comfortable than he's felt elsewise, anyways.
Yes as the conversation moves on, he grows more and more exasperated. "Wait, what's a needle blight? Don't sound like anything pleasant. An' druids? Ain't they supposed to be peaceful-like? Yet these's in service ta--" he wiggles his finger up toward the overcast sky "--ya know who? Is them blood-suckin' druids? Fellers, I hate t'think we's messin' with tha likes we saw back at the Vallaki church. All teeth 'n bad mood, 'n these has needle blights ta boot! Humph! Of course it wouldn't be easy ta get a skin o' wine, o' course there'd be more trouble in tha way. That's tha way of things here, ain't it? No, ain't nothin' ever simple, is it?"
Cerio kicks a stone to emphasize his point, then yelps in pain and clutches his toe through his shoe.
Cerio - You watch as Davian's eyes turn downcast. "Aye. Druids is s'posed t'be all peaceful-like. No' these ones though. Corrup'ed an' twis'ed, like mos' o' this land 'as become. Aye, we r'kon they be in cahoots wit' them blood-suckin' folk." He looks up at you, smiling, "nah, nothin's e'er simple, y'ave the righ' o' it frien'."
"Ways is. There're differen' types o' blight -- far we seen -- y'got yer wee li'le twig blights, th' sligh'ly larger needl' blights, th' gert big tree blights, an' then those wha' loo' like a mass o' vines - vine blights we call 'em. Anyways, mix o' th' firs' two 'ere wi' those druids." Davian explains. "Res' assured, bes' 'voided. As said, y'kill th' druids, th' li'le buggers drop."
"Now, talkin' o' beer. Well, a' tha' momen' -- far a' we're aware -- there're still sev'ral barrels in th' winery. Though, y'may wanna check 'em afore drinkin'. Wouldn't wanna en' up all poison'd now, would ya? Nah, didn't thin' so," he warns ominously.
Galqarin - The man takes a closer look at your face as you talk. "Y'from Vallaki, ain't y' frien'," Davian says. "Ain't s'pose y'ave news o' any of my kin? Urwin, Danika, Brom, Brey? Ain't 'ear from 'em in a while."
"Magicks? Y' bes' believe it. All sortsa foul an' twisted magicks. Jus' loo' a' those blas'ed blights! No goo' thin' crea'ed those. Blen' righ' in wit' there surroundin's, don' they."
Dormark - "Doll?" Davian says, genuinely confused. He stares where you are pointing and, sure enough, the doll, not being particularly great at hiding, pokes her head out from behind a tree. "Wha' in th' blazes?!" Davian exclaims, "ain't no good in a-thing like tha'. Bes' y'destroy i' wit' fire. Looks like one o' hers!"
Galqarin - The man takes a closer look at your face as you talk. "Y'from Vallaki, ain't y' frien'," Davian says. "Ain't s'pose y'ave news o' any of my kin? Urwin, Danika, Brom, Brey? Ain't 'ear from 'em in a while."
"Magicks? Y' bes' believe it. All sortsa foul an' twisted magicks. Jus' loo' a' those blas'ed blights! No goo' thin' crea'ed those. Blen' righ' in wit' there surroundin's, don' they."
Dormark - "Doll?" Davian says, genuinely confused. He stares where you are pointing and, sure enough, the doll, not being particularly great at hiding, pokes her head out from behind a tree. "Wha' in th' blazes?!" Davian exclaims, "ain't no good in a-thing like tha'. Bes' y'destroy i' wit' fire. Looks like one o' hers!"
'The proprietors of the Blue Water Inn?'Sandu replied. 'They are well, all things considering.' He did not know if news about Vallaki had spread yet, it seemed not, but he was not keen on putting the old man on edge.
Though what the man said last put Sandu on edge. 'Hers? Who's her?'
Sandu - "D'ya mean, who's 'er?" Davian says, a little confused at first. "O' y'mean tha' y'unawares? Po'erful witch wha' travels Barovia, up t' no good -- name's Baba Lysaga. Trus' me frien', much dis'ance as y'can put 'tween y' an' 'er th' be'er. Ain't nowt t' be gained from seekin' 'er out." Davian stares directly into your eyes, he leaves no room for levity in his warning.
"Rec'on it's 'er wha' th' druids been followin'. All-a this reeks o' 'er magicks. 'sides, we 'ad a few prob'ems afore wit' them, sure enough, bu' ain't been nothin' this bad,"Davian scratches at the back of his head as he talks. "Loo', far as I see i', Barovia is gonna be runnin' dry so lon' as those druid sons o' bi'ches con'rol the winery. Y'know folk ge' migh'y feis'y if they don' 'ave owt t' drink."
"Per'aps, well, per'aps y'migh' be able t' 'elp us re-take th' place. Migh' be able t' offer y' some coin, i'ems, or per'aps assis' in some other ways,"he says, allowing optimism to creep into his demeanour.
Dormark - The doll stands up and moves to approach the party. Its painted smile and single-button eye are unreactive as it moves. From its raggy clothing and painted features, you are able to tell that the doll is of a woman. She stops nervously before the party and puts her hands up in the air in a sign of submission.
"'ave a care frien'," Davian chimes in from behind you, "tell y' don' loo' too differen' to th' types Baba Lysaga uses." He stops and thinks for a second, "tha' said, mos' o' those try an' kill yer on sigh'."
Dallid - The doll puts up no resistance as Ferelyon bounds up to her. The wolf's mighty maw clamps around its target and yanks it off its feet. Bounding back to you, you can see that the wolf's teeth have pierced the doll in multiple places. Ferelyon wags his tail as he completes his task.
'Baba Lysaga?' Sandu scratched his head. 'Why does that sound familiar?'Something green and repulsive bounced into his mind. 'That's the name that toad said! The uhm- the hobber- no, the bandorr- no... The banderhobb!' Sandu punctuated the name with a snap of his fingers. 'Why's she-'
He was momentarily distracted when Dormark called the doll out to come into the open. Out of the shadows and in the light it seemed only slightly less horrifying. Like someone attempted to make a human doll but only had mere scraps and a vague understanding of what a human looked like to work with. One might even feel sorry for it were it not walking around on its own and stalking you.
Sandu actually did feel sorry for it when the wolf ran up to the doll and snatched it up in his jaws. 'Come on.' He said to both the wolf and Cerio. 'She had her hands up. She surrendered!'
Pulling Ferelyon off the doll. Dormark grabs it and helps it stand back up. "Okay seems like it can understand us. Sorry for the rough treatment, but I need you to answer some questions. Do you work for Baba Lysaga? Nod one for yes, shake one for no, or shrug if you don't know," asks the Warforge.
Sandu - Davian looks a little taken aback by your revelation. "Y' came toe't'toe wit' a Ban'er-obb? Serv'nts o' 'ers, alrigh'," he says, a hint of dread in his voice.
Dormark - The doll initially hides behind you as you pull her out of Ferelyon's maw. When you ask your question, she raised her hand to her head and scratches. She beckons behind her and nods once, then points to the ground directly in front of her and shakes her head.
"I tell yer frien', y'll ge' more sense ou'ta tha' wolf than yer will tha' heap-o'rags,"Davian offers, unhelpfully.
“I’m guessing she was made by Lysaga, but when it comes to our group she is not working for her,” says Dormark looking at the doll trying to make out what it is saying.
Dallid starts drawing the doll. "She says she used to work for Baba. Now how does a construct leave service like that? Not a believable lie, if it is one. Instead, it's a curiosity. Tell us more, doll. What you can." His tone is gentle.
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Paladin - warforged - orange
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Cerio clicks his tongue in disappointment at the doll. “Welp, nothing t’see there. No treasure, no coin, just a lost toy.”
Walking in the rain, Cerio’s spirits are lifted slightly at the sight of the vineyards. A bit of wine would make all this dreariness a wee bit more tolerable, for sure.
"Yeesh, 'nother drifter? They's thick as flies out here." Cerio wonders aloud at the old man by the treeline. He also can't help but notice the potentially valuable shiny objects hanging from him. Is that a silver teapot? He cups a hand over his mouth and calls out to the man. “We ain’t got no pastries, ‘n no coin neither!”
"We are being followed," says Dormark as he notices the creature sneaki8ng up behind them.
Looking towards the man Dormark says, "We should move quickly now." He takes off at a brisk pace towards the stranger.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Dallid moves closer to the old man, but keeps a safe distance.
"Excuse me, we're here for the winery. Who are you?"
Paladin - warforged - orange
"Yes I saw the strange doll following us." Dadeveth agrees, looking behind them to where the figure last hid among the trees along the road. When she turns back several of her companions have rushed ahead towards the strange man waving at them. She canters forward, moving to join the stranger as well.
Sandu felt uneasy as the group walked onwards to the vineyard. He could not really pinpoint it but he felt a chill down his spine every so often. Not from the cold, though it was never truly warm even when walking in the Barovian sun, but something else. Like he was being watched. But that would be preposterous. Which is what he would believe if this was anywhere else than Barovia. Sandu addressed the animated armour and nudged it to walk behind him to protect his back. There was something following them but he could not just venture off and stab it a bunch of times.
'Hey, does anyone else see-'
Sandu was cut off by the cry of a raven. Tracking the bird with his eyes eventually made them settle on an older gent standing among the trees. His green cloak nearly obscured him against the backdrop of the forest. The man waved them over.
'Guess we're being expected?' Sandu posed the question to the others. He took the man's invitation and went up to him.
'Are you the proprietor of the local vineyard, the so-called Wizard of Wines?'
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Morning - Day 8 - More Martikovs
The old man looks you all up and down. "Coin? Pastries? Bleedin' 'eck, what in the hells are you talking about?!" the old man yells over the wind and rain. "There's me, stopping you all from strollin' into a bleedin' field fulla Needle Blights. Y'probably woulda walked right into 'em as well, wouldn't ya?" He rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.
"Who am I?!" the man answers Dallid. "Wha' d'ya mean who am I!" his agitation growing now, though you get no sense of aggression. "I'm Davian Martikov and this is -- make that was -- me bleedin' winery." His voice softens a little, "up until recently me an' mine were responsible for makin' mos' of the alcohol in this gods-forsaken place." Rubbing his back he slowly turns to the woods. "Where are they? Bleedin' scared o' their own shadows," he mutters to himself.
"OI! S'alrigh'. They're friends, y'all can come out now," he yells at the trees. Lowering his voice once more he mutters, "bleedin' family, can't live with 'em, can't live withou' 'em." Slowly but surely, eight other people emerge from the treeline; four adults and four children.
"Tha's Adrian an' Elvir, my sons," he says by way of introduction, pointing at two of the men, which look like younger versions of the Davian. "An' tha's Steffania, m' daughter -- only one with 'alf a brain -- an' her 'usband, Dag." A man and woman sheepishly walk out of the woods and stand behind the old man. "Oh an' 'e know's 'is name sounds like Dog... no need to tell 'im, get's a little touchy." The man scowls behind Davian's back.
"Those 'ellraisers are Dag an' Steffania's," Davian says gesturing to the children. "Claudiu," a teenage boy, roughly 13 or 14 years of age, steps forward. "Martin an' Viggo," twin boys step forward and mockingly bow. "An' o'course, little Yolanda," you note Davian's voice soften significantly as he introduces the youngest of his brood, pride in his eyes. The young girl, a toddler, hides behind her mother's legs and buries her face into her dress.
"'fraid the winery is quite off-limits at the moment. Been taken over y'see. Blasted Blights and a few good-for-nothin' Druids. These ain't yer run-of-the-mill druids, these serve 'er," he says, assuming that you all know who he's referring to. "'course, we can't produce wine whilst they're there, they chased out of our own 'ome."
"We tried to fight," Elvir volunteers, stepping forward. "Attempted to take out some of her forces from Yester Hill. Unfortunately," he looks around at the others, who all look down in shame, "well, we were unsuccessful."
Adrian places a comforting hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Aye, we gave it a good go. Attempted to take out as many of those Druids as possible -- take them out and the blights drop. Unfortunately, a group of them are, as dad mentioned, currently residing within the winery."
"Pop'ycock an' bal'erdash!" Davian curses. "Gave i' a good go? Wha' talk is tha' -- gave i' a good go -- pfaaah!" He spits on the floor as though removing a bad taste from his mouth. "Truth is, they stole more than jus' th' winery." There is deep-seated anger and hatred behind Davian's eyes.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
"Well, 'bout time we run into someone with some common sense!" Cerio drops his pack and sits down to rest his haunches while the group is introduced. He doesn't get a sinister vibe from these folks and he feels pretty comfortable in their presence. More comfortable than he's felt elsewise, anyways.
Yes as the conversation moves on, he grows more and more exasperated. "Wait, what's a needle blight? Don't sound like anything pleasant. An' druids? Ain't they supposed to be peaceful-like? Yet these's in service ta--" he wiggles his finger up toward the overcast sky "--ya know who? Is them blood-suckin' druids? Fellers, I hate t'think we's messin' with tha likes we saw back at the Vallaki church. All teeth 'n bad mood, 'n these has needle blights ta boot! Humph! Of course it wouldn't be easy ta get a skin o' wine, o' course there'd be more trouble in tha way. That's tha way of things here, ain't it? No, ain't nothin' ever simple, is it?"
Cerio kicks a stone to emphasize his point, then yelps in pain and clutches his toe through his shoe.
(Forgot to press enter! Consider this inserted between posts #2813 and #2814)
"That's no toy", says Galqarin quietly. "That ... thing ... is following us."
"These druids - do they possess magicks?", Galqarin enquires.
"IS that doll behind us also a result of the durids," asks the Warforge turning around to put hand on the mace facing back towards the road.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Cerio - You watch as Davian's eyes turn downcast. "Aye. Druids is s'posed t'be all peaceful-like. No' these ones though. Corrup'ed an' twis'ed, like mos' o' this land 'as become. Aye, we r'kon they be in cahoots wit' them blood-suckin' folk." He looks up at you, smiling, "nah, nothin's e'er simple, y'ave the righ' o' it frien'."
"Ways is. There're differen' types o' blight -- far we seen -- y'got yer wee li'le twig blights, th' sligh'ly larger needl' blights, th' gert big tree blights, an' then those wha' loo' like a mass o' vines - vine blights we call 'em. Anyways, mix o' th' firs' two 'ere wi' those druids." Davian explains. "Res' assured, bes' 'voided. As said, y'kill th' druids, th' li'le buggers drop."
"Now, talkin' o' beer. Well, a' tha' momen' -- far a' we're aware -- there're still sev'ral barrels in th' winery. Though, y'may wanna check 'em afore drinkin'. Wouldn't wanna en' up all poison'd now, would ya? Nah, didn't thin' so," he warns ominously.
Galqarin - The man takes a closer look at your face as you talk. "Y'from Vallaki, ain't y' frien'," Davian says. "Ain't s'pose y'ave news o' any of my kin? Urwin, Danika, Brom, Brey? Ain't 'ear from 'em in a while."
"Magicks? Y' bes' believe it. All sortsa foul an' twisted magicks. Jus' loo' a' those blas'ed blights! No goo' thin' crea'ed those. Blen' righ' in wit' there surroundin's, don' they."
Dormark - "Doll?" Davian says, genuinely confused. He stares where you are pointing and, sure enough, the doll, not being particularly great at hiding, pokes her head out from behind a tree. "Wha' in th' blazes?!" Davian exclaims, "ain't no good in a-thing like tha'. Bes' y'destroy i' wit' fire. Looks like one o' hers!"
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
'The proprietors of the Blue Water Inn?' Sandu replied. 'They are well, all things considering.' He did not know if news about Vallaki had spread yet, it seemed not, but he was not keen on putting the old man on edge.
Though what the man said last put Sandu on edge. 'Hers? Who's her?'
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Dor mark setps forwards and says to the doll, "Your cover is blown, either show me you mean no harm, or come at me. The choice is yours."
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Dallid yips at Ferelyon and gestures to the doll. Ferelyon notices it now and runs up to seize and retrieve the doll
Paladin - warforged - orange
Sandu - "D'ya mean, who's 'er?" Davian says, a little confused at first. "O' y'mean tha' y'unawares? Po'erful witch wha' travels Barovia, up t' no good -- name's Baba Lysaga. Trus' me frien', much dis'ance as y'can put 'tween y' an' 'er th' be'er. Ain't nowt t' be gained from seekin' 'er out." Davian stares directly into your eyes, he leaves no room for levity in his warning.
"Rec'on it's 'er wha' th' druids been followin'. All-a this reeks o' 'er magicks. 'sides, we 'ad a few prob'ems afore wit' them, sure enough, bu' ain't been nothin' this bad," Davian scratches at the back of his head as he talks. "Loo', far as I see i', Barovia is gonna be runnin' dry so lon' as those druid sons o' bi'ches con'rol the winery. Y'know folk ge' migh'y feis'y if they don' 'ave owt t' drink."
"Per'aps, well, per'aps y'migh' be able t' 'elp us re-take th' place. Migh' be able t' offer y' some coin, i'ems, or per'aps assis' in some other ways," he says, allowing optimism to creep into his demeanour.
Dormark - The doll stands up and moves to approach the party. Its painted smile and single-button eye are unreactive as it moves. From its raggy clothing and painted features, you are able to tell that the doll is of a woman. She stops nervously before the party and puts her hands up in the air in a sign of submission.
"'ave a care frien'," Davian chimes in from behind you, "tell y' don' loo' too differen' to th' types Baba Lysaga uses." He stops and thinks for a second, "tha' said, mos' o' those try an' kill yer on sigh'."
Dallid - The doll puts up no resistance as Ferelyon bounds up to her. The wolf's mighty maw clamps around its target and yanks it off its feet. Bounding back to you, you can see that the wolf's teeth have pierced the doll in multiple places. Ferelyon wags his tail as he completes his task.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
'Baba Lysaga?' Sandu scratched his head. 'Why does that sound familiar?' Something green and repulsive bounced into his mind. 'That's the name that toad said! The uhm- the hobber- no, the bandorr- no... The banderhobb!' Sandu punctuated the name with a snap of his fingers. 'Why's she-'
He was momentarily distracted when Dormark called the doll out to come into the open. Out of the shadows and in the light it seemed only slightly less horrifying. Like someone attempted to make a human doll but only had mere scraps and a vague understanding of what a human looked like to work with. One might even feel sorry for it were it not walking around on its own and stalking you.
Sandu actually did feel sorry for it when the wolf ran up to the doll and snatched it up in his jaws. 'Come on.' He said to both the wolf and Cerio. 'She had her hands up. She surrendered!'
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Pulling Ferelyon off the doll. Dormark grabs it and helps it stand back up. "Okay seems like it can understand us. Sorry for the rough treatment, but I need you to answer some questions. Do you work for Baba Lysaga? Nod one for yes, shake one for no, or shrug if you don't know," asks the Warforge.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Sandu - Davian looks a little taken aback by your revelation. "Y' came toe't'toe wit' a Ban'er-obb? Serv'nts o' 'ers, alrigh'," he says, a hint of dread in his voice.
Dormark - The doll initially hides behind you as you pull her out of Ferelyon's maw. When you ask your question, she raised her hand to her head and scratches. She beckons behind her and nods once, then points to the ground directly in front of her and shakes her head.
"I tell yer frien', y'll ge' more sense ou'ta tha' wolf than yer will tha' heap-o'rags," Davian offers, unhelpfully.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
“I’m guessing she was made by Lysaga, but when it comes to our group she is not working for her,” says Dormark looking at the doll trying to make out what it is saying.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
“How can you be sure?”, asks Galqarin.
Dallid starts drawing the doll. "She says she used to work for Baba. Now how does a construct leave service like that? Not a believable lie, if it is one. Instead, it's a curiosity. Tell us more, doll. What you can." His tone is gentle.
Paladin - warforged - orange