In the idyllic hamlet of Wodensgate, all is well. That is, until it isn't. The mists are creeping in, reaching their ghostly fingers through windows and doors, wrapping around the throats of those who find themselves caught in them. For most, this is only an inconvenience, but for one Thalia Fox, they foreshadow a dark, horrifying future.

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Dramatis Personae

Thalia Fox, Human Monk, playing the role of the Unhappy Inheritor

Mr. Fox, Human Father Figure, playing the role of the Proud Dad

Ismark Kolyanovich, Human Burgomaster, playing the role of the Harrowed Brother

...And many more to come.

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{~~Wodensgate - 1501 DR, 12 Eleint~~}

Thalia knows this route. She has taken it countless times before, winding through the streets of Wodensgate back to her adoptive father's inn. Every week or so she heads to the far end of town with a purse of money, and returns laden with countless delicious baked goods from Mother Oakey's bakery. The kind old halfling always makes sure to supply the Foxes with her best creations, which they in turn sell on the weekends. It's good business for everyone, and Mother Oakey has always been very close to the Foxes. 

As she travels, Thalia takes extra caution to avoid the puddles on the muddy streets, lifting the sweet-smelling baskets she holds in both hands high. It's at that point in the year when there are frequent rainstorms, which make moving across town a rather dirty affair. Still, the rain is good for the crops, so it's not entirely unwelcome. Right now, the sky is clear, and the sun shines overhead. A few townsfolk smile and wave at Thalia as she heads home to relieve her burden.

Thalia only has a few more turns to make when things go... strange. It starts with an itch. Not a physical one, but a mental one, like something is picking away at her brain. Her thoughts go all fuzzy for a second as confusion washes over her. It's like there's... something inside of her mind, trying to get out. It's gone as soon as it came, but when she regains focus everything seems a little bit... off. She feels colder, a little short of breath. The town looks just a bit darker, like the day has somehow passed by, and yet the baskets she holds are still radiating heat. There aren't so many people out now.

As she keeps moving, there's that sense again. Panic rises up within her with no discernible source. Like she ought to be terrified of... something, but that something is just not there. A wind blows through the town, a dull howl whipping past her ears. Then, the fog starts creeping in. First it comes from a side-street, rolling along the ground sluggishly, wisps of it stretching up from the ground toward her. Then, a cold wetness on her back reveals that it's crept up behind her, clogging the street. Its touch feels heavy, and causes another wave of dread to wash over her.

It's just a little bit farther to the Henhouse, and the fog is creeping in. What does Thalia do?

(Apologies, this first section will be just a bit railroaded, since I need to toss you into Barovia)

(Of course, no worries. COS is a bit of a railroad after all, and honestly I don't mind too much since its a fun story!)

Thalia's blood might as well be cold water as shivers run through her veins. She froze as she saw the rolling fog which moved in unnatural ways... right? Her eyes darted around to see how it surrounded her. She clutched the large basket of treats in her arms and stepped away only to step directly into more of it behind her. Her stomach turned in knots as she couldn't tell why she was afraid. It was only fog... but something about it seemed familiar. When she looked into its swirling mists, she could almost see faces that were just barely recognizable.

Breathe in, breathe out. Thalia reminded herself. Her father had taught her one way to help overcome ones fears and anxiety was to focus on the breath. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and exhaled it through her nose. Opening her eyes, she determined she would march home. Quickly, of course, but her nerves had settled at least a little bit. "It's only a bit of fog, Thalia. It's nothing to be frightened of..." She tried to reassure herself.

(I figure she kinda looks like this pic, but her hair is long all the way around and she is darker in skin tone than this. It's hard to find brown red-headed fantasy art haha)

Through the tendrils of swirling fog, Thalia can see the Henhouse. The fog is less thick in front of her than it is behind her, though it's still ankle-deep just about everywhere. A sharp howl echoes through the fog, seemingly right behind her, and Thalia can her grunting, snuffling noises, growls and screeches from all around her. The door to the Henhouse swings open as a drunken patron stumbles out, his errant footfalls causing swirls in the fog. Behind him, Mr. Fox steps out of the building. He smiles and waves at Thalia, despite the fog surrounding her. In fact, Thalia isn't sure if he even sees it at all. After all, any sane person would at least look somewhat confused at a wall of fog rolling through their town.

"Papa, you see this, right?" Thalia asks somewhat unnerved. She swallows and tries to keep her cool. "There's fog everywhere. It was perfectly sunny just a second ago..." Thalia adds as she steps closer to her dear dad.

The fog follows Thalia as she moves, blocking off all streets beside the one leading to the Henhouse. It approaches as she stands out front with her father, pressing up against her. Mr. Fox looks a little confused at her words, but it quickly washes off his face. 

"Come in, Thalia," he says, his genial tone not reflecting her own, "I need some help at the bar. Get those sweets put away and get to work, it's a busy day!"

Thalia just stares at her father for a moment, blinking confused. Was she going mad? Maybe this fog... wasn't really there? She moved ahead. "Okay..." Maybe once she got inside, she would turn around and the fog would simply disappear. It had to be in her head. She shivered from the cold touch of mist, but pushed ahead and moved into Henhouse. She looked around, hoping to see friendly and familiar faces.

Inside, Mr. Fox's Henhouse is as warm and inviting as ever. Glasses clink and silverware clatters as patrons laugh and chat. On one side of the room a fire crackles invitingly, the smoke escaping up the chimney and into the air. The door closes, and the mist is gone. Thalia finds a place to put the sweets, and her father gets to work putting them away. Meanwhile, at the bar a few patrons place orders that Thalia is capable of fulfilling relatively easily. She and her father are not the only workers here, though she is the closest thing to a head barmaid at the place, and working with her colleagues she makes quick work of the backlog that had built up while her father had been busy. The mist is troubling, but the prospect of invoking her father's ire by not doing her job is perhaps more troubling.

Around half an hour passes, and patrons pass in and out regularly, disappearing into the sunlit outside. No one makes any comments on the clouds of mist that rushed through the town just a little while ago, and Thalia has the feeling that just like her father, they could see nothing. The nagging feeling of unnatural, sourceless dread begins to pass. Perhaps it was nothing more than an unusual hallucination, in the same vein as those drowning visions she's been having lately. Certainly not good, but no disaster.

Then, all of a sudden, that dread spikes once again. The door opens, and once again the mist is there, completely concealing the outside. A silhouette appears, then bursts from it, hobbling into the room. It's an old woman, round and slightly bent-backed. She carries a cane, though she looks to be relying on it a little more than she actually needs to. Her clothes are not particularly fine, but they are colorful, and a bright purple scarf wraps around her head and neck. As she approaches, the mists do as well. The windows are physically pushed open as it oozes heavily in, following and clinging to the woman like a bridal train of choking condensation. 

She reaches the bar, and makes eye contact with Thalia. Age has worn at her face and she squints heavily, partially concealing her eyes, but Thalia can still see enough. They are like polished mirrors. 

"Hello, Thalia," she croaks. "How are you?"

Thalia was heartened by the familiarity and the work. The fog still played on the edges of her mind and memory, but she threw herself wholeheartedly into her duties as de facto head barmaid. However, every time she looked out the window and the door as it swung open she was reminded of it for for moments. No one complained or jeered about the sudden fog. Nothing. None of them could see it she realized. Thalia tried to think. Had she bumped her head recently? Eaten bad fish? She tried to make excuses or reasons for why she could see this fog and no one else could. She settled on 'who knows why, its probably not important.'

Until the colorful older woman walked through the doors. Instinctively, Thalia looks around at the other people inside the room. How could they not see this? She takes a frightened step backward, but tries to retain her neutral expression. She even tries to smile. "Oh, hello. I'm doing well... Sorry, I think I may have forgotten your name...?" Thalia blinks. Had she ever seen this woman before? How did she know Thalia's name? An answer played around in the back of her mind, but Thalia didn't want to acknowledge it.

"My name is unimportant, dear," the old woman croaks. "Then again, so is yours. You may call me Eva. I'm very sorry about this, dear, but you must understand that I have no choice." 

The mists have coated the entire room by now, cocooning the patrons who are now nothing more than silhouettes. Thalia can barely see a few feet in front of her, where the mists crowd around but do not draw any closer. Eva reaches down to her belt and pulls out an unadorned, but beautifully made wooden box. She slides the cover open, and inside there is a set of cards. They look to be handpainted, their backs adorned with black and gold. The hairs on Thalia's body stand up, and she recognizes them to be powerfully magical. More so than anything she has ever encountered before, in any case. Eva gingerly takes one from the box, making sure not to bend it, and places it on the counter.

"A journey is ahead of you. A terrible one, a dark one, but it may end in light. Prepare as you like. When you are ready, you may turn the card. Do not lose it." With that, the old woman turns and leaves into the mist. The tendrils wrap around her, consume her, and she is gone, leaving only a black and gold card behind her.

To say Thalia is unsettled would be an understatement. The patrons didn't seem real anymore, just like shadows dancing on the walls, and this woman before her, someone she feels certain she's never seen before now, still feels familiar for some reason. My name is... unimportant? Thalia blinks and her eyes follow as this Eva places the card on the counter. The beautiful pattern on the back of this card drew Thalia in and she could feel her heart beating and crawling up her chest to her throat.

Just as mysteriously as she came, Eva vanished. Thalia didn't know what to make of her or what sounded like a warning... or a premonition? Thalia's hand moved to the card and lingered over it. Something inside her stirred, but it had no name. She was moved by that woman's words... and she was curious. Thalia laid a hand on the card as her heart beat inside her very mind. She could hear nothing else. 

And she turned the card.

Something unexpected or mysterious that cannot be avoided; a great quest or journey that will test one's spirit.

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Eva's voice echoes in Thalia's mind, as the mist swirls around her. It pours into her throat, her ears, her eyes, filling her, covering her inside and out, devouring her. Soon, there is nothing but the choking, howling, devouring mist.

There is nothing.

There is something.

There is everything.

Something dark lurks here, too vast to be seen or comprehended. A million miles of shifting, tar-black... something, stretch as far as Thalia can see. Only she can't see, not here, because she has no eyes. She has nothing. She is nothing. There is just the nothing that is her and the everything that is this being that is more than just one and is none at all. A million eyes that aren't there flick open, fix their absent, blind gaze on her body that is not there. A million gaping, slime-slick mouths gape, sharp and toothless all at once, bearing their squamous black gums. One lunges, and she is consumed.

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{~~Barovia - 751 BC, 3 Octyavr~~}

The mists suck out of Thalia's mouth, her ears, her eyes, leaving her uncomfortably empty. And even more uncomfortably moist. They are still clouds of condensation, after all, no matter how magical. She stands... behind a bar, just as before. Only this bar is old and rotting, the wood warped and grey with age. The overturned card still sits on the table, smoking slightly. A faint smell of mildew fills the air, and there is no conversation whatsoever. A patron sits at the bar, but he is not fresh-faced and lively, like the men of Wodensgate. His face is sallow, and droops like a half-melted candle. He looks at her, his eyes sunken and... hollow, somehow. His glass is empty, but he makes no move to get it refilled. Just sits there. Staring.

Indeed, it seems as if no one in this place has anything to do besides stare. A dozen pairs of eyes stare up at Thalia, expressionless save for four. Three individuals, colorfully dressed in a way similar to Eva, sit in the corner and watch her. Their expressions are slightly puzzled, but not entirely surprised. This is not the case for a man who sits in the opposite corner, eyes wide. Behind Thalia, a man approaches from the back room. For a moment she thinks it is Mr. Fox, but his face is not the same as her father's. He stares at her with that same dull expression, then moves past her, mindlessly wiping the dusty bar with a dusty rag. The rest of the patrons return to their business, including the three colorfully dressed individuals, except for the man who just keeps staring with wide eyes.

Thalia is, for lack of better words, standing completely shocked by whatever it was that just transpired. She glances all around at these unfamiliar people in this unfamiliar room. She continues to scan for Mr. Fox, but she can't seem to find him anywhere among these people. She can't see anyone familiar at all. When she catches the eyes of the wide eyed man, she quickly averts her gaze unsettled by his intense stare. Thalia, instead of trying to talk to these people in this sad bar, runs to the exit and tries to run out into the street. If she can, she will look around and try to assess what just happened. Where is the fog? The woman? Her father? 

"Please tell me this isn't happening, please tell me," Thalia mutters in a rush under her breath. "This is a bad dream. A wild nightmare."

An intense gloom has a chokehold on this town. The cold cobblestones are dull and grey, making streets through the cold, dull and grey houses. Above, the sky is cold, dull, and grey. Indeed, cold, dull, and grey seem to be the three key words that can be used to describe just about anything Thalia sees in this land, from the food back in the bar to the few people who shuffle hurriedly through the streets. Moist is a close runner-up, as a faint fog drifts constantly through this town, coating everything with a layer of moisture. It's not nearly as thick or reaching as the mist that brought Thalia here, but is depressing nonetheless. A lopsided sign creaks above Thalia, waving in an absent wind. The paint half-peeled, it proclaims this building as the "Blood of the Vine Tavern."

Thalia continues to stare at the sign that should have been something else entirely. These streets were not her streets. This wasn't her tavern. This wasn't her town. It's was unbelievable, but it was the only explanation. She took a deep breath and headed back into the tavern. She had suddenly appeared after all, and most of the people there didn't seem to care... And that was incredibly troublesome.

The red head matches through the door with a serious expression which grew annoyed. She shouted, "Okay, someone is going to tell me where I am and what the hell is going on." She looks to the people who weren't surprised by her appearance, even that creepy wide eyed guy.

The three colorfully dressed people don't respond, just mutter conspiratorially to each other, occasionally stealing a pitying glance in her direction. The staring man, however, leaps to his feet. He almost knocks his table over as he approaches, choking on his words. He is finely dressed, but looks rather unkempt, his clothes moth-eaten and wrinkled, loose in all the wrong places. It's hard to place his age. He certainly does not look young, but whether it is the look of a truly old man, or simply one who has had his youth snatched away from him by hardship and grief, Thalia cannot tell. There is a scar on his left brow, almost reaching his eye, telling the tale of a blow that nearly left him half-blind some time in the past. His mouth still leaks pipe-smoke and the scent of beer from behind his scraggly beard as he finds his words.

"Ir—! How? How could you—" He stops. He looks across Thalia's face, and his face, previously full of surprise and joy, fades to one of disappointment and melancholy. His hand, reaching to her, falls limp to his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I—I thought you were someone else. Forgive me."

The wide eyed glare now gone, replaced by this sad visage of a man who surely had a lot going on, caused Thalia to calm down in return. While only moments ago she was ready to throw punches and take names, a softer side started to manifest to the surface. She reminded him of someone precious, or so it seemed... that was why he stared at me like that. Thalia approaches the man, the only one in this tavern who seemed to want to bother with her at all, and spoke softly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted like that. I am sure I looked insane... Listen, I'm incredibly confused... I literally just... appeared here. I think you and," she leans in, whispering to him, "those three people there," she leans away again, "all noticed that. Could you please tell me where I am? What did you see moments before, before I just suddenly showed up?"

The man pauses, scratches his beard (dislodging a few crumbs in the process) and looks back to the spot where Thalia appeared. "You know," he says, "I don't think I could tell you what happened. You just... were there. I happened to look up from my meal at just the right time, and... well, there you were. I really thought you were... someone I knew, for a second there. I ought to introduce myself, I'm Ismark Kolyanovich. I'm what passes for a Burgomaster in this place. 'This place' being the village of Barovia, that is, in the realm of... well, also Barovia. I've certainly heard tales of people appearing in these lands, disappearing from them too. Maybe something similar happened to you." Ismark gestures over to a seat. "Sit if you want, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I guess I ought to do my duties as Burgomaster and be welcoming to newcomers."

"B, Burgomaster...?" Thalia stares at him inquisitively. That was not a term she was familiar with, but given that she was in a whole area, it probably couldn't be helped. She accepts his offer and takes a seat at his table. Thalia gave this older man a good look as she sits across from him. This unkept man, Ismark, seems like he had probably been handsome at one point. Perhaps a shower would convince her of it. She realizes after a moment she's staring, and smiles.

"Burgomaster Ismark Kolyanovich... It sort of makes you sound noble. So, I'm in Barovia, Barovia? That's charming in a way. Exactly where is Barovia, Barovia?" Thalia asks looking around at all the other patrons of this 'Blood on the Vine' place. They all look about a foot away from the grave... she thinks to herself, though her concern is plain on her face. "I mean, I'm not from Barovia at all. I've never heard of it, actually." Thalia runs a hand through her long hair absentmindedly as she speaks. 

Ismark takes a drag on his pipe, smoke trickling from his lips and nostrils as he speaks. "Few have. It is not a place one travels to and from. Barovia is... a dark place. Literally and figuratively. No one can leave, because of the mists that surround the land, choking and killing anyone who tries to escape. At the same time, to stay is to die as well, bit by bit. This place has a way of sucking the life out of you. The Svalich Woods, which surround Barovia, are full of all kinds of unnameable beasts. Not just wolves, but abominations stuck somewhere between man and animal, monsters that eat human flesh. The skies are full of bats which hunger for human blood. And then there is the greatest bloodsucker of all. The devil. I will not say his name, not at this time of night, not here. He is a vampire, and he has been here longer than any remember. Many have appeared in this land before, much like you have. Adventurers, "heroes," if you believe in such a word. None make it far. Sooner or later, the vampire has them. He always gets what he wants. No matter what it is."

He stops to take another hit. "I'm sorry. I just have some... personal experience. Someone I knew. For a brief moment, I thought you were her." He coughs. "I'm so very sorry that you have ended up here. If there is a way to leave, I don't know about it. If you want my opinion, you ought to find yourself somewhere to live, and forget your old life. Lord knows there are plenty of empty houses here..."

Thalia just listens to Ismark. As he continues listing the horrors of Barovia, her eyes grow wide and her expression grim. She takes a deep breath and holds it in as Ismark remarks that she should forget her old life and begin a new, horrible life in this grim place. After he finishes, she exhales and looks Ismark directly in the eye with a determination that could burn holes in the overcast sky. 

"Unacceptable. I can't be trapped here. This must be a mistake. Adventurers? Heroes? I'm neither of those things." Thalia tries to convince Ismark of these things, though it is clear that he has no say in these things. "I'm plain old Thalia Fox. I'm not a hero, a noble, or anyone notable at all! I'm a bar wench for godsake!" She shouts and it becomes clear she can be feisty when pushed. She takes a deep breath again and says, "Listen, Mr. Kolyanovich, I don't belong here. You say this place is full of... of man eating monsters and strange creatures... this sounds like some sort of fable from a book. What purpose would there be in such a place..." She trails off, a bit deflated. It seems she has accepted she is here in Barovia, but she isn't quite ready to admit total defeat. "What happened, exactly? You sound like you've seen this all happen yourself. Please... tell me." She looks up at him, begging to know.