Strange folk these, but it seems they may be able to help me gain my revenge.  Surely the dark traveller has to be the man I seek.

Tarak says to the boy, "Lad. You said 'they've taken her' and then said the dark traveller took your sister.  Which is it?  Just one or many?  And when did this happen?  How much of a headstart have they got over us?"

He turns to Intun.  "How long to get to the tower from here, and is it easy to find?"

The boy looks to the half-orc, tears still in his eyes. "My sister, Jalia, owns the local bakery. The man was in the shop, asking us a bunch of questions about the ruins when another group of outsiders arrived. They were a rough looking group...like you all. He went outside and spoke to them briefly before calling my sister over. It was then he took her and they all left town headed toward the ruins." 

Intun igives Morrigan six names for her book, "Luka, Dirk, Thomas, Norell, Affrin and Chandor." Of the trek to the tower, he says, "It's not too far. As it is night and the snow is falling, maybe a couple of hours."

"With things like these, time is of the essence," Tarak asserts.  "We should start out after them right away."  The giant half-orc begins to pace back and forth as he speaks, subconsciously gripping his hands around his double-bladed broad axe.

He looks at Intun.  "Is there a trail to follow?  Sure there may be tracks but it would be best if we didn't need to rely on them."

Intun nods. "I will lead you to the trail outside of town. From there, you will be able to follow it and find the ruins."

The past....

Her mother spread the cloudy, gray oil over Sydril’s body.  “I’m so sorry my precious girl.”  She looked at her daughter with tears in her eyes.  “Mother, I don’t understand, what is going on?”  Sydril questioned, her voice shaky and afraid, tears running down her face.   She could hear screams coming from the village.  “There is no time to explain my love”…she took her daughters hand and folded it around a fine chain with a pendant holding the purple gemstone so dark it was almost black.   “You must keep this with you Sydril, don’t let it out of your site!  When it is safe go to your grandparents, they will take care of you.”  She gave Sydril a kiss on her forehead and spread the last of the potion on her daughter’s face.  “Wait, mother, I don’t”…her words were cut off as she was pushed into the ethereal plane. 

Just after she entered the plane a huge, monstrous creature came around the corner of the building.  A revolting beast of death and shadows stalked towards her mother.  Sydril screamed but could do nothing.  Three ravenous eyes stared at her mother with a malevolent mania, and a roar exploded from its drooling mouth. Billowing smoke, and flowing shadows adorned its lean head, which itself was glowing with incredibly intensity. The creature stepped closer her mother, its two legs steadily carry its wicked body with a maniacal energy. A long tail moved behind it.  Four ethereal wings extend themselves fully. Shadowy bones, and glowing membranes stretch upward, and side by side.  The beast grabbed Sydril’s mother by the throat, lifting her into the air.  Her mother grabbed the scaly hand, gasping for breath. 

The creature leaned in close and spoke to her mother but she couldn’t make out what it is.  Terror and loathing played across her mother’s face in equal measure.  She spat words back at the creature, her eyes burning with hatred.  The demon roared in her face and Sydril watched in horror as the creature lifted her mother and punched his claws into her middle.  Her mother’s eye went wide, she coughed a couple of times and her head lolled forward, lifeless.  The creature tossed her mother’s body to side and strode off.  As Sydril moved towards her mother’s lifeless body she looked across the rest of the village.  There are demons everywhere, bodies everywhere, so much blood, so much pain…

When Sydril awoke she was lying on the ground next to her mother’s body, back in the material plane.  The demons were gone but the smell of sulfur, smoke and blood was strong in the air, the stench causing her to cough and her eyes to water.  She sat there for a while, unmoving but eventually she leaned over her mother’s lifeless form and kissed her forehead.  “Goodbye mother”. 

Somehow, she got to her feet and headed in the direction of her grandparent’s village.  She stumbled into the village with a vacant look on her face, soot, blood and dirt on her clothing. She was taken to her grandparents but they could get nothing out of her, she would not speak, would not acknowledge anyone. When she did finally come back to the living world she refused to speak about what happened at the village.  She was forever changed and is haunted by the events from her past.  She uses poetry and archery to keep the horrors at bay.  She has found that helping others with their problems helps her find balance and some temporary peace.

The present...

Sydril was disappointed, she had heard the circus was going to be in Windy Valley.  She traveled quite a distance to see it due to her grandfather's tales of it's many wonders and curiosities and was actually looking forward to a little levity.  Apparently it was not to be.  Flipping her blonde braid over her shoulder she tucks a stray piece behind her pointed ear and nurses an ale, lost in her thoughts.  She snaps to attention as she hears the boys cries, his fear and helplessness clear in his voice.  "Well, looks like I ended up right where I was supposed to be."  she quietly states to herself.   

She moves to stand at the back of the group, adjusting her leather armor and grabbing her longbow from where it rests against the table. Listening to the conversation, she takes stock of those around her.  She has mostly kept to herself while she has been here...time to bring that to and end.

"Well, Poopy." Camilla declared to her imp in cat disguise. "Looks like we're going on an adventure." she turned to the new people. "Oh! Hello!"

Tarak nods at the elven lady who has approached the group.  I wonder if she's going to be joining us.  The more the merrier but we must press on.  The Traveller in Black.  It just has to be him.  I wonder if his companions are Followers of the Grasping Flame.  Time will tell.

"I'm ready," the huge half-orc announces.  "Let's go."  He begins to pace again, clearly anxious to be moving.  The fetishes and charms on his armour swish, clank and tinkle as he moves; small skulls and feathers spinning in place here and there.

"Yes, I think it wise to move quickly, for the girl's sake."  Sydril agrees, her voice soft but sure.  She reaches out and places her hand on the arm of the pacing half-orc, hoping to calm him.  "You shall wear a path in the floor, sir.  Save your energy for the trouble ahead."  She says looking at him with a small smile.

Zook clears his throat and closes his book.   "Well, not time to dilly dally.   Shall we?"  As he begins to put on his traveling cloak.  As he does so he intentionally pushes his chair back to hide another thunder from down under.

Deception check: 9

Insight: 18

Camilla gives you a look. It's partial disgust and amusement. "Looks like someone's baking brownies." 

"Guess it's time to get going." Markus heads toward one of the outbuildings, looking for traps all the way.

Perception:19

As Markus steps forth, he thinks he catches the glimpse of a footprint in the snow, but the flurries make it a bit difficult. Perhaps with a little help, a trail of footsteps can be discovered.

"Ah, isn't the cold wonderful?" Camilla muses, looking around. "Reminds me of my time in that lair of that white dra-"

FRRT! PHF.

"No, not that, one. I forgot his name. Aurc..something..? Oh well." she followed Markus. "Look! The ruins!"

As Sydril brushes snow off of her head and shoulders she notices Markus peer at something in the flurries. She stops and focuses on the area, trying to determine what he is looking at.

Perception  19

Or 

Survival 23

Which ever you prefer. :)

Working together, Markus and Sydril are able to discern a set of tracks, quickly fading in the snowfall, that appear to be that of about a dozen medium-sized humanoids. One set of smaller tracks appear to be being dragged or forced. The tracks lead to a small stone building, not but 10-square feet. Its door lies in the snow, ripped from the hinges. Stairs can be seen descending.

Bundled up in her tattered red cloak, Morrigan follows the group, jotting down notes in her book about the soldiers. As they get closer to the tower, Morrigan whispers under her breath, "Friend of yours my lord?" The winds whistling by is her answer. Shaking her head she glances down at the footprints and the open door, "Looks like we go down. Before we do, I would like to ask all of you for your names and a quick thing about you. That way should the worst come to pass, we can all pass on into the next world and my lord can know of us. I can start, my name is Morrigan Graves, a runaway from Thay who serves the Scribe of the Dead." 

"Hmmm...my name is Zook.   I am interested in books, cheese, books, the arcane, and books.  Excuse me."

Zook sits down in the snow and starts to ritual cast Detect magic.

"Camilla." the Teifling said, smiling softly. "And this is Poopy, my cat." she said, pointing to it. "I'm proficient in healing, and other sorcerous skills and uh..I.." 

Don't say too much. You remember what happened to the last group. Don't let your actions or your past get everyone in trouble.

"..I like corn chips!" she blurted, immediately regretting it. She laughed nervously, pushing her glasses back up to her nose.

"Markus. I'm from Icewind Dale and I have to say, that this is place is much better than there. I'm pretty good with my axes."