Dallid looks after the carriage as it leaves. "I think... Perhaps that is a pillar holding up Strahd's regime. It follows that we should remove them, or turn them against him."
Unfortunately, Dallid's experience with the carriage would not be the only one as the party entered Krezk. It appears that the Atrocity Exhibition had likely drawn a variety of people from across Barovia; on no less than three other occasions, horse-drawn carriages sped past the group, often shouting greeting or warning as they went.
Krezk itself was lit up more than usual and there was an increased guard on the gate. You can instantly tell that the event was not a regular occurrence within the otherwise quiet village; guardsmen run around frantically like headless chickens, giving directions to the Dubois Residence, helping carriages navigate narrow paths, and dealing with complaints. In all the fuss and hubbub, you notice a red-faced Baern, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
Noticing the party, Baern waves and makes his way over. "Cannae stan' it," he groans, his face like thunder. "Been like this mos' o' the evenin'. People a-comin' an' a-goin' with little concern f' others. Wha'ever this exhibition is, it's attracted all sorts o' rich folk. Talk aroun' the village is tha' mos' folk 'ave travelled in to Barovia." He drops his voice, "if yer get me meanin'. Through th' mists. Word is, only folk tha' can freely do tha' are loyal to him." Baern leaves no doubt as to the person he is referring to -- Strahd von Zarovich.
Wrapping a friendly arm around Sandu and Galqarin, he continues, "how was th' Winery? Manage t' fin' out what went wrong with those deliveries? We 'ave a little time afore the party starts, so t' speak. Bes' y' stop off at the cottage firs', an' we can get all caught up."
Galqarin wraps Baern in a mighty bear hug. "Friend! We missed you. We killed some evil druids and I took this staff off one." He starts proudly showing off his new acquisition before a suspicious frown creases his face and he snatches it to his chest. "It is mine now."
Dallid looks after the carriage as it leaves. "I think... Perhaps that is a pillar holding up Strahd's regime. It follows that we should remove them, or turn them against him."
A pensive frown grew on Sandu's brow. 'I'm not sure that's doable, let alone possible. If there is one thing nobles vehemently oppose, it's changing the status quo.'
He remained silent for the rest of the journey until he saw Krezk in - dare he say it? - festive mood. People running about in a flutter, horses and carriage at every other step and a general fuzz that lingered over the cobblestones. He overheard the name Dubois several times before a red-faced Baern found them in the crowd. He inquired about the winery.
'It is as Galqarin says.'Sandu felt a bit restricted in Baern's embrace. 'The owners were forced out by a cabal of druids who wanted to use the winery for their own nefarious purposes. We drove them out so the wine should once more start flowing into Krezk.'
He looked around at all the visitors pouring into the town. The exhibition was all everyone spoke about. 'Have you seen this Guy Valquelin fellow yet? The one whose exhibition this is. What is he like?'
As he mentioned one name, another popped into Sandu's mind. JB. From the letter. Jeze'baal. How did he know what JB stood for?
Something else prodded at the back of his thoughts. Something small that nonetheless loomed large. Not for Sandu but for the dwarf embracing him.
'Baern,'Sandu tentatively began, 'We- we found something. Someone.' He corrected himself. 'Perhaps it's best if you find out for yourself.'
He raised a hand and pointed at the cloth bag doll that they had picked up around the winery.
Galqarin - Baern's mood seems lifted as you return his hug. He eagerly examines your newly acquired staff, whistling out loud as he inspects the midnight black wood. He is taken aback and eyes you curiously as you snatch the staff away from him and cradle it; his face passing between you and Dormark. "Mighty-lookin' staff y' 'ave there, friend. Y' mentioned you retrieved it off some evil druids?" he asks, rhetorically. "Ain't it best our friend Dormark here has a look over it. I often find that evil folk carry equally evil weapons."
Sandu - Listening patiently, Baern's face lights up at the party's success. "Ahh good news, y'know how folk get when they miss the essentials," he says with a wink.
Baern lowers his voice when mentioning the exhibitions artist. "Vauquelin, y' mean?" he whispers. "As th' invite mentioned, the man took 'is own life. Word is tha' 'is work blurred the boundaries atween a nightmare world an' reality." His face looks deeply troubled. "I dun' like it, Sandu. I made some enquiries, 'roun' Krezk. There's many that reckon tha' the nightmare Vauquelin depicted ain't no made up place at all." He pauses, staring at you earnestly. "What if it exists? A world differen' from our own. This 'ole thing sounds like a trap t' me."
Coughing as though clearing his throat, Baern makes a point of checking for any eavesdroppers. "These Dubois are rich folk, mos' of 'em are whats here. HE has representatives, y'know. Everywhere." You note that something is deeply troubling the dwarf, something that he is not telling you. "Y'know those women what met with Ioben afore he disappeared. All 'ad these weird names endin' in 'belle? Well, you'd never guess the name of the couple hostin' this event -- Anthony and Maribelle Dubois. Ain't no way tha's a coincidence." You note a slightly crazed look in the young dwarf's eye, as though he had just unearthed a massive conspiracy.
Partly distracted by his own revelations, Baern gives a cursory look over to the doll. "Oh?"he says absent-mindedly. "Who's tha?"
The doll takes one look at Baern, collapses on to her knees and sobs ((I mean, she's made of cloth)) into her hands. She slowly stands and reaches out towards Baern with both arms outstretched.
"Errr, Sandu?" Baern gives you a questioning look. "Who is that?"he hisses under his breath.
Sandu mentally slapped himself. The note. Of course. How could he forget? It had mentioned that Guy Vauguelin, the mad artist in question, had taken his life. Artists did tend to straddle the line between genius and madness but from the sounds of it, this Vauquelin just as well swandived over the edge into the abyss.
Though what Baern brough up was both odd and superfluous. Sure, women all with names ending in belle was peculiar but to ascribe that to a some sort of malevolence instead of mere happenstance seemed to be a bridge too far. Barovia was not what it seemed but really: a conspiracy based on similar sounding names? Even for Sandu, raised on tales on all sorts, that sounded a bit like reaching.
He decided not to dwell on it. Not because it sounded farfetched but rather because Baern's question made him uncomfortable. Sandu squirmed his way out of the dwarf's embrace and took a moment to ponder how to break the news. 'I'm not sure how to put this,'He started, 'so forgive me for being blunt. Baern, this woman- doll- uh, figure,' He gestured at the cloth doll, 'is your mother. Or at least houses her soul. It's complicated.'
Sandu scratched his neck sheepishly before deciding to step out from between the dwarf and the doll. He turned to the others with a plea in his eyes that said help?
Sandu - Baern looks back and forth between you and the doll and starts to laugh. "C-come now Sandu, where'd y' get that preposterous idea from? Me ma', really?"he says as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Housin' her soul? Really? Y' begin t' soun' like Dormark. He put y' upt' this?"
The doll containing Diesa's spirit goes up to Baern. He gives her a mocking hug, "there-there ma', s'going t' be alrigh'! Y' wit' yer Baern now." He rolls his eyes at you, but you notice the doll slip a torn piece of paper into his hand. Taking a moment to read the slip, Baern's face instantly drops, and he turns a pale shade of green.
Rapidly retreating from the doll, he trips over himself, falling into the mud. "Wh-what? No. Stop it,"he desperately scrambles in the dirt. "Wha's the meanin'? This 'as gotta be a cruel joke." He sits sobbing quietly into his arms. "I'll find 'er, jus' you watch,"he stammers between sobs.
"My friend I don't lie when it comes to souls. From what we heard a being of high magical ability did this, and the fact that it bound her soul to an.. unliving form concerns me. But Baern you need to listen to me. We have found her and we are getting her out of here I promise you by the name of Moradin it shall be done," he says going over to pick up his fallen comrade.
Dormark - Your words uplift Baern. He looks up, his face grim, and slowly nods. "Aye, y' gotta do somethin' Dormark," he says pleadingly, "this form ain't no good for her, it dishonours her." Drawing himself up and rubbing the tears from his eyes, he looks over at the doll. "Oh Ma', I thought I'd los' y'," Baern gives the doll containing his mother's soul a giant hug, scooping her up. "Trus' me, Ma'. Dormark'll fix y', he knows abou' these things." He turns to you with a look of hope in his eyes. "Wha'ever it takes, Dormark. I'll help y' any way I can."
Galqarin figures that Dormark is far too busy looking after the cursed doll to worry about his staff. Walking, talking dolls are surely the result of evil magics, but a staff is just wood.Baern's simply being paranoid. Or else he's jealous...
"Good lad, I think I can fix it, but we need to find Moradin's breath to do it> Ah, I wish I had a clue to where it might be,' says the Warforge.
Looking over to Galqarin Dormark says, "After tonight's party I will take a look at the staff and make sure it is cleansed of whatever foul taint it may have. Might be able to make some improvements to it as well. We will just have to wait and see."
Sandu stepped a bit to the side and watched the mother-son reunion with hollow eyes. At least he has a mother to hug-
Sandu was surprised at his own inner outburst of envy. If anything this should be an inspiring moment: to give Baern new hope. His mother was still here, still alive (in a fashion), and with a chance to reverse her situation. Sandu should feel relieved for his companion but did not found it within himself to be so.
He coughed. 'So how are we getting to this exhibition?' He patted himself down a bit to draw attention to the state he, and they, were in. 'Don't know about you but I have the feeling they are not just going to let us walk in and rub elbows with Barovia's rich and famous.'
> Looking over to Galqarin Dormark says, "After tonight's party I will take a look at the staff and make sure it is cleansed of whatever foul taint it may have. Might be able to make some improvements to it as well. We will just have to wait and see."
Galqarin privately resolves that Dormark will do no such thing. "Foul taint" indeed - and all high and mighty with his foreign god!
Leading his mother to the party's makeshift headquarters in Krezk, Baern's mood seems to have improved since his discussion with Dormark. Though Diesa cannot reply, Baern natters on about the party's adventures within Barovia.
"I think I need t' take care of Ma',"Baern says, apologetically. "You all hurry alon' to th' exhibition. Oh... there was something,'he scratches at his brow. "I asked aroun' Krezk abou' the Dubois'. Mos' reckoned they kept 'emselves to 'emselves. Bu' they 'ave a butler -- well more muscle really -- called Alano." The dwarf's voice drops. "Folk 'roun' these parts reckoned he's changed since goin' int' the Dubois service. He ain't been actin' like 'imself." He shivers and lowers his voice even more. "People 'eard him a-speakin' in foul language... Wassit he said, 'bar-sirs doh-ras' or summin'."
Cerio, who had quietly been listening, perks up at this point. "Say tha' again? Badzurz doraz?"he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"Yea' tha's it!" Baern confirms. "Buzzards door-pass. Reckon it means owt?"
Nodding, Cerio explains, "it means Open Gate in Abyssal."
Splitting the Group
The mood is tense within the party's cottage. Baern quietly catches up with his mother, making up for many lost years. Diesa rapidly scrawls her answers down on pieces of parchment. There is joy in his eyes as he passes his mother the intricately carved stone figurines he had received from Blinsky. Instantly recognising her handiwork, Diesa turns them over in her clumsy doll hands, before placing the figures of herself and Baern standing side by side.
Lost in thought since explaining the interpretation of the abyssal words, Cerio sits slumped in the corner. "Edrick," he mutters to himself, "I can't."
Standing up he approaches Sandu. "I can't, uh won't, be joinin' you at the exhibition," he says quietly. "Ain't lookin' to get wrapped up in whate'er evil is dwellin' there. Y' know this is a trap, ye' y' still mean t' go?" He shakes his head and slumps back down in the corner.
Similarly, Dadeveth, wearied by the day's events, explains that she is unable to attend the exhibition.
Approaching the Dubois Residence
Unperturbed by the others, the rest of the party, armed with their invite, set off for the Dubois Residence. Carriages crowd the small streets leading up to the property, many of which are attended by the relevant drivers/servants. Dallid recognises Lady Wachter's carriage close to the residence. Procter, the prickly driver, brushes down the carriage's horses, his back turned to the group.
You note that many of the guests of the exhibition are richly dressed, and many wear suits or other appropriate evening attire. It strikes you then that you may be a little under-dressed for the occasion. Two large, thick wooden, front-doors are flanked by two heavy-set, though well-dressed, gentlemen with swords at their hips. Their faces are expressionless and emotionless as they check guests' invitations.
The man to the right waves you forward. "Invitation?" you get the sense that the man is making a demand rather than a request, his voice is as emotionless as his face, monotone and deep. His eyes lock on yours and you can tell that there is nothing behind them; if the eyes are a doorway to the soul, then it is clear that these particular eyes lead nowhere, a void. He reaches out a hand, expecting you to hand something to him. "Invitation?"he delivers his demand a second time, identically to the first.
Galqarin - Your newly acquired staff reverberates in your hand. You get the sense that you could probably trust these men. In fact, they rather put your mind at ease... perhaps this isn't a trap after all.
Dallid - Something feels off about these men. Perhaps they are under another's influence, enchanted or bewitched in some way.
Dormark & Sandu - You have met a similar individual to these two in the Village of Barovia. Arik the Barkeeper from the Blood of the Vine tavern. You vaguely recall Ismark telling you that it is rumoured that some individuals within Barovia are born lacking souls, often coming across as cold and emotionless, a tabula rasa.
Galqarin suddenly grins, "Come on, show the invitation. This is a party, and we're invited!". Galqarin has never been to a party before, and, after the trials of the last few days (not to mention the years leading up to them), he finds he is rather looking forward to it.
Lost in thought since explaining the interpretation of the abyssal words, Cerio sits slumped in the corner. "Edrick," he mutters to himself, "I can't."
Standing up he approaches Sandu. "I can't, uh won't, be joinin' you at the exhibition," he says quietly. "Ain't lookin' to get wrapped up in whate'er evil is dwellin' there. Y' know this is a trap, ye' y' still mean t' go?" He shakes his head and slumps back down in the corner.
Similarly, Dadeveth, wearied by the day's events, explains that she is unable to attend the exhibition.
Approaching the Dubois Residence
Unperturbed by the others, the rest of the party, armed with their invite, set off for the Dubois Residence. Carriages crowd the small streets leading up to the property, many of which are attended by the relevant drivers/servants. Dallid recognises Lady Wachter's carriage close to the residence. Procter, the prickly driver, brushes down the carriage's horses, his back turned to the group.
You note that many of the guests of the exhibition are richly dressed, and many wear suits or other appropriate evening attire. It strikes you then that you may be a little under-dressed for the occasion. Two large, thick wooden, front-doors are flanked by two heavy-set, though well-dressed, gentlemen with swords at their hips. Their faces are expressionless and emotionless as they check guests' invitations.
The man to the right waves you forward. "Invitation?" you get the sense that the man is making a demand rather than a request, his voice is as emotionless as his face, monotone and deep. His eyes lock on yours and you can tell that there is nothing behind them; if the eyes are a doorway to the soul, then it is clear that these particular eyes lead nowhere, a void. He reaches out a hand, expecting you to hand something to him. "Invitation?"he delivers his demand a second time, identically to the first.
Galqarin - Your newly acquired staff reverberates in your hand. You get the sense that you could probably trust these men. In fact, they rather put your mind at ease... perhaps this isn't a trap after all.
Dallid - Something feels off about these men. Perhaps they are under another's influence, enchanted or bewitched in some way.
Dormark & Sandu - You have met a similar individual to these two in the Village of Barovia. Arik the Barkeeper from the Blood of the Vine tavern. You vaguely recall Ismark telling you that it is rumoured that some individuals within Barovia are born lacking souls, often coming across as cold and emotionless, a tabula rasa.
Sandu watched Baern and his mother for a moment reconnect through their sharing of notes before replying to Cerio.
'You're probably right.'He addressed the man. 'But we can't just leave Ioben to his fate if there is any chance to...'What was he going to say? Save him? Avenge him? Retrieve the body? 'At any rate, everyone who's someone in Barovia will be there from the look of it.' He continued with a shrug. 'Sounds like a proper place to get any information.'
When the time came for the actual exhibition and upon seeing everyone else attending, Sandu became very aware of how shabby he looked in comparison. He made a feeble attempt to slick back his hair and straighten out his clothes but it was a futile gesture. The small satisfaction he could take out of meeting the doormen was that no amount of nice clothes was worth having a soul.
"Invitation?"he delivers his demand a second time, identically to the first.
Sandu paused. 'Oh, right.The invitation.The invitation for the exhibition, the invitation chosen especially to enter the exhibition, the exhibition's invitation.'He had completely forgotten about the invitation. Luckily for him Dormark had not. Sandu sighed a breath of relief when the warforged pulled out the piece of paper and pressed it into the doorman's hand.
The doorman takes the invitation, his face deadpan. "Thank you,"he says in his monotone voice, scrunching the invitation into his pocket without checking it. "Mr and Mrs Dubois bid you welcome. Please help yourself to the complimentary food and drinks inside." His partner opens the door and lets you all in. As you enter, you hear the next set of guests behind you, followed by the familiar dull voice; "Mr and Mrs Dubois bid you welcome..."
Inside the residence feels a lot more welcoming, the excited murmur of other guests can be heard coming from the main hall, it is a lot warmer inside, and there is a pleasant smell of lavender and cherry blossom. A rather charming, young lady smiles at you in greeting. She holds out a tray of wine glasses filled with what is, presumably, red wine. Another member of the waiting staff offers a tray containing a variety of vol-au-vents, he bows his head slightly by way of acknowledgement.
The house's entrance opens into a grand hall. Suits of armour, this time inanimate, stand guard, silently flanking the doors. Twenty or so guests mill around, talking, drinking, and eating. You note that they are all dressed in finery: the ladies look splendid in their evening dresses, and the gentlemen are suited and booted. A string quartet plays sombre classical music at the far end of the hall. You note that Lady Wachter, dressed fully in black, stands and listens to the quartet, Larnak by her side.
((X denote doors. Blue X's appear to be unlocked, Red X's locked. The LARGER X's denote double doors.))
A burst of laughter comes from a separate room to the east. Inside you see a group of guests engaged in conversation. A rather weaselly-eyed gentleman, takes a sip of his drink before continuing on with his story. "So I says,'I'm SURE these new friends won't die any time soon'," he chuckles loudly. "You wouldn't believe how quickly the large lump and the dwarf ran from my shop when they caught sight of Parriwimple."
"Oh Bildrath, you are a HOOT!" one of the ladies, standing with her back to you, cries. "What became of them?"
"Last I heard Lesser was on his way with the group to Vallaki to see some sort of priest,"Bildrath replies.
"Lesser?"another woman intones.
The first lady lets out a shrill laugh, "It's what he calls Kolyan's son! Ismark the Lesser!" This elicits further laughter from the group. "You are a card!"she says, playfully touching Bildrath's arm.
Large windows look out of the eastern room to a small, private garden with a large fountain in the centre. Open fire braziers flicker, providing light and warmth to more guests outside.
Back inside the grand hall, a rather pasty gentlemen tings his wine glass and raises his voice. "Guests! Guests! Please," he says, signalling for quiet. "Mr Anthony and Mrs Maribelle Dubois are due to join us shortly. As you know, tonight celebrates the opening of the Atrocity Exhibition, a fine collection of artwork by the esteemed Guy Vauquelin. In line with the wishes of the Dubois' the room containing the paintings will be opened for viewings at midnight. In the meantime, please feel free to explore the premises and mingle among yourselves." The gentleman clears his throat and gestures for people to continue as they were.
Dallid looks after the carriage as it leaves. "I think... Perhaps that is a pillar holding up Strahd's regime. It follows that we should remove them, or turn them against him."
Paladin - warforged - orange
Night - Day 8 - Krezk Return
Unfortunately, Dallid's experience with the carriage would not be the only one as the party entered Krezk. It appears that the Atrocity Exhibition had likely drawn a variety of people from across Barovia; on no less than three other occasions, horse-drawn carriages sped past the group, often shouting greeting or warning as they went.
Krezk itself was lit up more than usual and there was an increased guard on the gate. You can instantly tell that the event was not a regular occurrence within the otherwise quiet village; guardsmen run around frantically like headless chickens, giving directions to the Dubois Residence, helping carriages navigate narrow paths, and dealing with complaints. In all the fuss and hubbub, you notice a red-faced Baern, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
Noticing the party, Baern waves and makes his way over. "Cannae stan' it," he groans, his face like thunder. "Been like this mos' o' the evenin'. People a-comin' an' a-goin' with little concern f' others. Wha'ever this exhibition is, it's attracted all sorts o' rich folk. Talk aroun' the village is tha' mos' folk 'ave travelled in to Barovia." He drops his voice, "if yer get me meanin'. Through th' mists. Word is, only folk tha' can freely do tha' are loyal to him." Baern leaves no doubt as to the person he is referring to -- Strahd von Zarovich.
Wrapping a friendly arm around Sandu and Galqarin, he continues, "how was th' Winery? Manage t' fin' out what went wrong with those deliveries? We 'ave a little time afore the party starts, so t' speak. Bes' y' stop off at the cottage firs', an' we can get all caught up."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Galqarin wraps Baern in a mighty bear hug. "Friend! We missed you. We killed some evil druids and I took this staff off one." He starts proudly showing off his new acquisition before a suspicious frown creases his face and he snatches it to his chest. "It is mine now."
A pensive frown grew on Sandu's brow. 'I'm not sure that's doable, let alone possible. If there is one thing nobles vehemently oppose, it's changing the status quo.'
He remained silent for the rest of the journey until he saw Krezk in - dare he say it? - festive mood. People running about in a flutter, horses and carriage at every other step and a general fuzz that lingered over the cobblestones. He overheard the name Dubois several times before a red-faced Baern found them in the crowd. He inquired about the winery.
'It is as Galqarin says.' Sandu felt a bit restricted in Baern's embrace. 'The owners were forced out by a cabal of druids who wanted to use the winery for their own nefarious purposes. We drove them out so the wine should once more start flowing into Krezk.'
He looked around at all the visitors pouring into the town. The exhibition was all everyone spoke about. 'Have you seen this Guy Valquelin fellow yet? The one whose exhibition this is. What is he like?'
As he mentioned one name, another popped into Sandu's mind. JB. From the letter. Jeze'baal. How did he know what JB stood for?
Something else prodded at the back of his thoughts. Something small that nonetheless loomed large. Not for Sandu but for the dwarf embracing him.
'Baern,' Sandu tentatively began, 'We- we found something. Someone.' He corrected himself. 'Perhaps it's best if you find out for yourself.'
He raised a hand and pointed at the cloth bag doll that they had picked up around the winery.
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
Galqarin - Baern's mood seems lifted as you return his hug. He eagerly examines your newly acquired staff, whistling out loud as he inspects the midnight black wood. He is taken aback and eyes you curiously as you snatch the staff away from him and cradle it; his face passing between you and Dormark. "Mighty-lookin' staff y' 'ave there, friend. Y' mentioned you retrieved it off some evil druids?" he asks, rhetorically. "Ain't it best our friend Dormark here has a look over it. I often find that evil folk carry equally evil weapons."
Sandu - Listening patiently, Baern's face lights up at the party's success. "Ahh good news, y'know how folk get when they miss the essentials," he says with a wink.
Baern lowers his voice when mentioning the exhibitions artist. "Vauquelin, y' mean?" he whispers. "As th' invite mentioned, the man took 'is own life. Word is tha' 'is work blurred the boundaries atween a nightmare world an' reality." His face looks deeply troubled. "I dun' like it, Sandu. I made some enquiries, 'roun' Krezk. There's many that reckon tha' the nightmare Vauquelin depicted ain't no made up place at all." He pauses, staring at you earnestly. "What if it exists? A world differen' from our own. This 'ole thing sounds like a trap t' me."
Coughing as though clearing his throat, Baern makes a point of checking for any eavesdroppers. "These Dubois are rich folk, mos' of 'em are whats here. HE has representatives, y'know. Everywhere." You note that something is deeply troubling the dwarf, something that he is not telling you. "Y'know those women what met with Ioben afore he disappeared. All 'ad these weird names endin' in 'belle? Well, you'd never guess the name of the couple hostin' this event -- Anthony and Maribelle Dubois. Ain't no way tha's a coincidence." You note a slightly crazed look in the young dwarf's eye, as though he had just unearthed a massive conspiracy.
Partly distracted by his own revelations, Baern gives a cursory look over to the doll. "Oh?" he says absent-mindedly. "Who's tha?"
The doll takes one look at Baern, collapses on to her knees and sobs ((I mean, she's made of cloth)) into her hands. She slowly stands and reaches out towards Baern with both arms outstretched.
"Errr, Sandu?" Baern gives you a questioning look. "Who is that?" he hisses under his breath.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Sandu mentally slapped himself. The note. Of course. How could he forget? It had mentioned that Guy Vauguelin, the mad artist in question, had taken his life. Artists did tend to straddle the line between genius and madness but from the sounds of it, this Vauquelin just as well swandived over the edge into the abyss.
Though what Baern brough up was both odd and superfluous. Sure, women all with names ending in belle was peculiar but to ascribe that to a some sort of malevolence instead of mere happenstance seemed to be a bridge too far. Barovia was not what it seemed but really: a conspiracy based on similar sounding names? Even for Sandu, raised on tales on all sorts, that sounded a bit like reaching.
He decided not to dwell on it. Not because it sounded farfetched but rather because Baern's question made him uncomfortable. Sandu squirmed his way out of the dwarf's embrace and took a moment to ponder how to break the news. 'I'm not sure how to put this,' He started, 'so forgive me for being blunt. Baern, this woman- doll- uh, figure,' He gestured at the cloth doll, 'is your mother. Or at least houses her soul. It's complicated.'
Sandu scratched his neck sheepishly before deciding to step out from between the dwarf and the doll. He turned to the others with a plea in his eyes that said help?
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
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Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Sandu - Baern looks back and forth between you and the doll and starts to laugh. "C-come now Sandu, where'd y' get that preposterous idea from? Me ma', really?" he says as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Housin' her soul? Really? Y' begin t' soun' like Dormark. He put y' upt' this?"
The doll containing Diesa's spirit goes up to Baern. He gives her a mocking hug, "there-there ma', s'going t' be alrigh'! Y' wit' yer Baern now." He rolls his eyes at you, but you notice the doll slip a torn piece of paper into his hand. Taking a moment to read the slip, Baern's face instantly drops, and he turns a pale shade of green.
Rapidly retreating from the doll, he trips over himself, falling into the mud. "Wh-what? No. Stop it," he desperately scrambles in the dirt. "Wha's the meanin'? This 'as gotta be a cruel joke." He sits sobbing quietly into his arms. "I'll find 'er, jus' you watch," he stammers between sobs.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
"My friend I don't lie when it comes to souls. From what we heard a being of high magical ability did this, and the fact that it bound her soul to an.. unliving form concerns me. But Baern you need to listen to me. We have found her and we are getting her out of here I promise you by the name of Moradin it shall be done," he says going over to pick up his fallen comrade.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Dormark - Your words uplift Baern. He looks up, his face grim, and slowly nods. "Aye, y' gotta do somethin' Dormark," he says pleadingly, "this form ain't no good for her, it dishonours her." Drawing himself up and rubbing the tears from his eyes, he looks over at the doll. "Oh Ma', I thought I'd los' y'," Baern gives the doll containing his mother's soul a giant hug, scooping her up. "Trus' me, Ma'. Dormark'll fix y', he knows abou' these things." He turns to you with a look of hope in his eyes. "Wha'ever it takes, Dormark. I'll help y' any way I can."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Galqarin figures that Dormark is far too busy looking after the cursed doll to worry about his staff. Walking, talking dolls are surely the result of evil magics, but a staff is just wood. Baern's simply being paranoid. Or else he's jealous...
"Good lad, I think I can fix it, but we need to find Moradin's breath to do it> Ah, I wish I had a clue to where it might be,' says the Warforge.
Looking over to Galqarin Dormark says, "After tonight's party I will take a look at the staff and make sure it is cleansed of whatever foul taint it may have. Might be able to make some improvements to it as well. We will just have to wait and see."
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Sandu stepped a bit to the side and watched the mother-son reunion with hollow eyes. At least he has a mother to hug-
Sandu was surprised at his own inner outburst of envy. If anything this should be an inspiring moment: to give Baern new hope. His mother was still here, still alive (in a fashion), and with a chance to reverse her situation. Sandu should feel relieved for his companion but did not found it within himself to be so.
He coughed. 'So how are we getting to this exhibition?' He patted himself down a bit to draw attention to the state he, and they, were in. 'Don't know about you but I have the feeling they are not just going to let us walk in and rub elbows with Barovia's rich and famous.'
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
Dallid holds up a finger and makes a righteous, victorious gesture: "By... Sneaking!"
Paladin - warforged - orange
“We were invited, I expect we are to heists and entertainment for the party,” says Dormark reminding them they were invited to the event.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
> Looking over to Galqarin Dormark says, "After tonight's party I will take a look at the staff and make sure it is cleansed of whatever foul taint it may have. Might be able to make some improvements to it as well. We will just have to wait and see."
Galqarin privately resolves that Dormark will do no such thing. "Foul taint" indeed - and all high and mighty with his foreign god!
Night - Day 8 - The Dubois Residence
Buzzard's Door-Pass
Leading his mother to the party's makeshift headquarters in Krezk, Baern's mood seems to have improved since his discussion with Dormark. Though Diesa cannot reply, Baern natters on about the party's adventures within Barovia.
"I think I need t' take care of Ma'," Baern says, apologetically. "You all hurry alon' to th' exhibition. Oh... there was something,' he scratches at his brow. "I asked aroun' Krezk abou' the Dubois'. Mos' reckoned they kept 'emselves to 'emselves. Bu' they 'ave a butler -- well more muscle really -- called Alano." The dwarf's voice drops. "Folk 'roun' these parts reckoned he's changed since goin' int' the Dubois service. He ain't been actin' like 'imself." He shivers and lowers his voice even more. "People 'eard him a-speakin' in foul language... Wassit he said, 'bar-sirs doh-ras' or summin'."
Cerio, who had quietly been listening, perks up at this point. "Say tha' again? Badzurz doraz?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"Yea' tha's it!" Baern confirms. "Buzzards door-pass. Reckon it means owt?"
Nodding, Cerio explains, "it means Open Gate in Abyssal."
Splitting the Group
The mood is tense within the party's cottage. Baern quietly catches up with his mother, making up for many lost years. Diesa rapidly scrawls her answers down on pieces of parchment. There is joy in his eyes as he passes his mother the intricately carved stone figurines he had received from Blinsky. Instantly recognising her handiwork, Diesa turns them over in her clumsy doll hands, before placing the figures of herself and Baern standing side by side.
Lost in thought since explaining the interpretation of the abyssal words, Cerio sits slumped in the corner. "Edrick," he mutters to himself, "I can't."
Standing up he approaches Sandu. "I can't, uh won't, be joinin' you at the exhibition," he says quietly. "Ain't lookin' to get wrapped up in whate'er evil is dwellin' there. Y' know this is a trap, ye' y' still mean t' go?" He shakes his head and slumps back down in the corner.
Similarly, Dadeveth, wearied by the day's events, explains that she is unable to attend the exhibition.
Approaching the Dubois Residence
Unperturbed by the others, the rest of the party, armed with their invite, set off for the Dubois Residence. Carriages crowd the small streets leading up to the property, many of which are attended by the relevant drivers/servants. Dallid recognises Lady Wachter's carriage close to the residence. Procter, the prickly driver, brushes down the carriage's horses, his back turned to the group.
You note that many of the guests of the exhibition are richly dressed, and many wear suits or other appropriate evening attire. It strikes you then that you may be a little under-dressed for the occasion. Two large, thick wooden, front-doors are flanked by two heavy-set, though well-dressed, gentlemen with swords at their hips. Their faces are expressionless and emotionless as they check guests' invitations.
The man to the right waves you forward. "Invitation?" you get the sense that the man is making a demand rather than a request, his voice is as emotionless as his face, monotone and deep. His eyes lock on yours and you can tell that there is nothing behind them; if the eyes are a doorway to the soul, then it is clear that these particular eyes lead nowhere, a void. He reaches out a hand, expecting you to hand something to him. "Invitation?" he delivers his demand a second time, identically to the first.
Galqarin - Your newly acquired staff reverberates in your hand. You get the sense that you could probably trust these men. In fact, they rather put your mind at ease... perhaps this isn't a trap after all.
Dallid - Something feels off about these men. Perhaps they are under another's influence, enchanted or bewitched in some way.
Dormark & Sandu - You have met a similar individual to these two in the Village of Barovia. Arik the Barkeeper from the Blood of the Vine tavern. You vaguely recall Ismark telling you that it is rumoured that some individuals within Barovia are born lacking souls, often coming across as cold and emotionless, a tabula rasa.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Galqarin suddenly grins, "Come on, show the invitation. This is a party, and we're invited!". Galqarin has never been to a party before, and, after the trials of the last few days (not to mention the years leading up to them), he finds he is rather looking forward to it.
Dormark passes forward the invitation the received letting the man see it.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Sandu watched Baern and his mother for a moment reconnect through their sharing of notes before replying to Cerio.
'You're probably right.' He addressed the man. 'But we can't just leave Ioben to his fate if there is any chance to...' What was he going to say? Save him? Avenge him? Retrieve the body? 'At any rate, everyone who's someone in Barovia will be there from the look of it.' He continued with a shrug. 'Sounds like a proper place to get any information.'
When the time came for the actual exhibition and upon seeing everyone else attending, Sandu became very aware of how shabby he looked in comparison. He made a feeble attempt to slick back his hair and straighten out his clothes but it was a futile gesture. The small satisfaction he could take out of meeting the doormen was that no amount of nice clothes was worth having a soul.
Sandu paused. 'Oh, right. The invitation. The invitation for the exhibition, the invitation chosen especially to enter the exhibition, the exhibition's invitation.' He had completely forgotten about the invitation. Luckily for him Dormark had not. Sandu sighed a breath of relief when the warforged pulled out the piece of paper and pressed it into the doorman's hand.
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
Night - Day 8 - The Dubois Residence
Entrance
The doorman takes the invitation, his face deadpan. "Thank you," he says in his monotone voice, scrunching the invitation into his pocket without checking it. "Mr and Mrs Dubois bid you welcome. Please help yourself to the complimentary food and drinks inside." His partner opens the door and lets you all in. As you enter, you hear the next set of guests behind you, followed by the familiar dull voice; "Mr and Mrs Dubois bid you welcome..."
Inside the residence feels a lot more welcoming, the excited murmur of other guests can be heard coming from the main hall, it is a lot warmer inside, and there is a pleasant smell of lavender and cherry blossom. A rather charming, young lady smiles at you in greeting. She holds out a tray of wine glasses filled with what is, presumably, red wine. Another member of the waiting staff offers a tray containing a variety of vol-au-vents, he bows his head slightly by way of acknowledgement.
The house's entrance opens into a grand hall. Suits of armour, this time inanimate, stand guard, silently flanking the doors. Twenty or so guests mill around, talking, drinking, and eating. You note that they are all dressed in finery: the ladies look splendid in their evening dresses, and the gentlemen are suited and booted. A string quartet plays sombre classical music at the far end of the hall. You note that Lady Wachter, dressed fully in black, stands and listens to the quartet, Larnak by her side.
A burst of laughter comes from a separate room to the east. Inside you see a group of guests engaged in conversation. A rather weaselly-eyed gentleman, takes a sip of his drink before continuing on with his story. "So I says, 'I'm SURE these new friends won't die any time soon'," he chuckles loudly. "You wouldn't believe how quickly the large lump and the dwarf ran from my shop when they caught sight of Parriwimple."
"Oh Bildrath, you are a HOOT!" one of the ladies, standing with her back to you, cries. "What became of them?"
"Last I heard Lesser was on his way with the group to Vallaki to see some sort of priest," Bildrath replies.
"Lesser?" another woman intones.
The first lady lets out a shrill laugh, "It's what he calls Kolyan's son! Ismark the Lesser!" This elicits further laughter from the group. "You are a card!" she says, playfully touching Bildrath's arm.
Large windows look out of the eastern room to a small, private garden with a large fountain in the centre. Open fire braziers flicker, providing light and warmth to more guests outside.
ALL - Perception checks.
Back inside the grand hall, a rather pasty gentlemen tings his wine glass and raises his voice. "Guests! Guests! Please," he says, signalling for quiet. "Mr Anthony and Mrs Maribelle Dubois are due to join us shortly. As you know, tonight celebrates the opening of the Atrocity Exhibition, a fine collection of artwork by the esteemed Guy Vauquelin. In line with the wishes of the Dubois' the room containing the paintings will be opened for viewings at midnight. In the meantime, please feel free to explore the premises and mingle among yourselves." The gentleman clears his throat and gestures for people to continue as they were.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)