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Curse of Strahd [CLOSED]

house.jpgSparse raindrops tickle ears and necks on the way between the two contrasting houses. While Pullo's place is small and rustic, with its flower decorations on the shutters, the house to the left, though aged and weather-worn, retains an old majesty in its trim and bay windows. The curtains are all drawn shut.

Moire announces your presence with the affixed knocker, and minutes pass with no response. The only sounds are a few distant, muted shouts from back towards the center of town, perhaps some new phase of the festival.

Standing as she is the farthest from the door, outside the cover of the awning, Ina spots the dark curtain in the window above move briefly to one side, revealing the pale face of a child who looks down at her briefly with swollen, sickly eyes before he lets the curtain fall closed again.




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"Do we enter?" Hircus asks the rest of the group. The cleric leans around the side of the house to see if there is anyone around then reaches past Moire to check the knob to see if it turns freely.
 
Ina smiles sadly at the child, her brow furrowing. Why is a child inside on a festival day if the festival's are such an affair? She wordlessly gestures to the others to prompt them to look before the curtain falls back down.

"I don't think we should force our way in... Perhaps we can talk to the child through the window? I could try my message trick, perhaps? Children are usually more...receptive, shall we say, to magics."

She looks around to see if anyone else is nearby or if any other curtains flutter.
 
Moire's dismayed to find no immediate answer. There's a sense of urgency burning in her, to be after this fiend, to destroy it before it brings doom upon them all. So she waits impatiently, until her companions speak up.

"There's a child inside? I thought today's festival required children to attend. Something's not right here..." But is whatever it is wrong enough to force her hand? She's broken into one place already, for arguably justifiable reasons. Even if different reasons apply, two breaking and enterings back to back strains moral credulity. But thankfully her elven friend has a good suggestion. "Try it," she agrees with Ina. And she steps back to be more fully visible from the window, smiling warmly and showing every bit of nonverbal charm she can manage.
 
The mention of a child inside has Hircus biting his lip and looking anxiously back and forth between his companions. I will be patient and wait to see what comes of Ina's attempt to make contact with the child. But if things go poorly... Hircus reaches for his hammer's pommel and the Tormish amulet that swings from his neck. "Try it Ina. The child may need our help."
 
At the confirmation from the others, the elf begins tuggging a new, less worn from constant fiddling, length of cotton from the bottom of her shirt. She purses her lips slight as she does so; she can't help pining for her old gear, something a bit more robust to fiddle with. Though, for now, cotton would have to do.

She clears her throat and crouches, gently placing the heel palm on the windowsill, fingertips barely grazing the cool glassy surface. She twists the thread around her finger and wills her words to the child in the building.

"Hey little one, my name is Ina. Why aren't you at the festival? Are you okay?"
 
From somewhere upstairs in the house, a feeble voice comes back to Ina:

"Hi Ina, my name's Claude. The woman doesn't let us leave. Oh, I don't feel so good. I'm going back to bed."
 
Ina frowns in concern and fires back another message. She holds her free hand up to the others to try and convey that she's made contact.

"Claude, has this woman hurt you? What's her name?"
 
Bile rises in Ina's throat and a cold shiver runa down her spine.

"Claude you are so brave, what does she look like? Are your parents there? Don't sleep yet sweetie, okay?"
 
It takes a few more message exchanges to get the details, but unheard by anyone else, Claude describes to Ina a short, bald woman with golden eyes and ears that come to a point. He thinks his parents are downstairs.
 
Ina's reaction confirms the group's suspicions. "Faria," she exhales before dropping to a knee before the keyhole, lockpicks in her hands before her knee touches the floor. She relays Claude's exact words as she begins to pick the lock, a slight tremor in her hand. She focuses, taking a deep breath and channeling Torm's - via Hircus - guidance. After a little longer than she had hoped, the mechanism clicks and she lets out a sigh of relief, swapping hef picks for a dagger and gesturing to the door, a weak smile on her face. "Who wants to go first?"
 
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While Ina worked on the lock, Syvis frowned ... she hadn't really dealt with doors much at all, let alone ones with locks. Turning to keep an eye on the street, the comforting weight of Otrev's cage in her arms she glanced at Hircus, noting he seemed wounded, his stance somewhat off. Fiddling with her wolf-tooth necklace and muttering a few words under her breath in Sylvan she trailed a hand down Hircus' side, "If this goes badly ... I'd rather you be healthier. I hope this helps."
 
Hircus nods in thanks to Syvis the follows Moire through the door. "In we go! Torm guide us." As he move through the door Hircus pulls his hammer to a ready position.
 
Moire and Hircus step into a dim, narrow entry hall that passes by a staircase rising along the left-hand wall. The air is stale and musty. Just to Moire's right, a doorway opens into a larger room lost in shadows. Silhouettes of furniture are visible there. There's also a doorway at the far end of the hall, to the rear of the house. From back there, something shifts and there's a faint metallic clacking sound followed by a low voice muttering something unintelligible. Outside, the wind shifts, and raindrops patter against the covered at the bottom of the stairs.

Hircus invokes Torm's light on his warhammer, allowing him and Moire to see farther into the adjoining rooms. The staircase leads to an upstairs hallway. The room to the right is a large parlor with a bench in front of the bay window and cushioned chairs farther in. The room at the far end of the entry hall looks like a dining room; part of a long table can be seen through the doorway.

Although Hircus doesn't notice it, when the light extends through the house, Moire hears a sharp exhalation from the parlor, followed by a creaking noise that seems to come from just above the doorway to that room.
 
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Hircus' light is welcome, for all the additional detail it reveals, but it also seems to have tipped off their foe to their presence. Clearly, the vampire isn't ready to strike just yet, though. And that's time she and her companions can use.

Silently, Moire taps Hircus on the shoulder and points into the parlor. Then she glances back out the door towards Ina and Syvis before silently pointing into the parlor. At which point she readies her handaxe to strike.

The Paladin waits for the whole team to get into the house and be ready to engage, or she waits in case the vampire decides to spring out of the parlor at them. Once the team pulls together, she points to just above the doorway for the two elves to watch out for. It's possible that the vampire lies in wait above the doorway but it's also possible she's elsewhere in the parlor and that was just someone moving upstairs. And it's also possible she's not alone.

Moire moves in when everyone's ready, eyes searching for danger.
 
Faria.jpgWith her comapnions in place, Moire steps into the parlor. In the end of the room that was hidden before, three chairs are positioned around a small table facing an unlighted hearth. Past these, another doorway also connects to the room with the long table at the end of the entry hall.

"Moire martinet, Markovia's pet!" a taunting, singsong voice hisses from above. Faria is here, somehow clinging upside-down, spider-like, to the ceiling near the hearth. She drops down onto the small table and tries to push the paladin's shield aside with one clawed hand while raking at her face with the other.

Still out on small porch, Syvis sees that now one of the townsfolk has stopped across the street and is regarding the house's open front door and crowded entryway with idle curiosity. He blinks and scratches his head, then takes a step closer, squinting his eyes to get a better view inside the dim corridor.

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The vampire who used to be one of Markovia's band manages to wound Moire only slightly before being nearly overwhelmed by magic and steel. The radiant aura of Moire's inspired smites, supported by power channeled from Ilmater, clearly affects the creature more profoundly than conventional weapons.

Circling around into the house's dining room, Ina finds a delirious woman who could be Claude's mother collapsed on the floor and helps her up into one of the chairs. The woman covers her face and sobs.

Hard-pressed, Faria retreats into the kitchen and out the back door, apparently unharmed by the cloud-occluded daylight. Before she runs out into the field that backs the houses, she calls out wickedly to the woman of the house, "Thank you Berenice, for your hospitality. I might come again." Then, speaking to Moire, she says, "If you see my fisherman, martinet, tell him I hope his luck improves." Moire and Hircus, who are closest to the kitchen, chase Faria out into the late-morning drizzle. With her black dress flapping in the wind, the vampire is running for the stand of trees two-hundred feet behind the house.

As soon as those three have left, Berenice pushes herself back onto the floor and crawls past Ina and Syvis to the entry hall, frantically muttering, "Claude, my Claude," to herself. From where she stands by the dining room table, Syvis can see that the man who was watching the open door from across the street has advanced to the porch and is looking inside. Another man has joined him. But when Berenice enters the hall, both of them back away with looks of fear and confusion.
 
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Moire is the first to catch up with the fleeing vampire, though the others are close behind. Syvis speaks the words of another spell and sharp, bonelike thorns sprout from the ground around Faria and Moire, locking the pair in a deadly arena. Hemmed in by the spikes and peppered with arrows, Faria grapples Moire and delivers a painful bite to the paladin's side. Something more than mere blood drains out of Moire and Faria seems strengthened by the exchange. Her wounds begin to close and she hauls Moire with her across the deadly spikes. Both women suffer terrible wounds on the short journey, but Hircus is there shouting Torm's healing words to Moire, who rallies enough to swing her imbued axe down once more.

Faria gasps as the blade sinks into her neck. A light seems to glow from under her pale skin, which smoulders with the smell of scorched exotic spices. She twists her head in shock and sputters thick, dark blood. "All the years," she struggle to say, "for this?" Her claw drops from Moire's neck and she collapses, dead, in the damp grass behind the houses on Bow Lane. The clouds grow darker as the light rain continues to fall.
 
The pinched mask of a warrior shows on the cleric's face as he skirts the thorny ground looking trying to cut off the Faria who drags Moire with her like a cat with it's quarry. Hircus reaches a hand toward Moire and speaks Torm's blessed healing words to give his comrade some kind of reserve against this life draining monster. His breath catches when he sees moire rally and finish off the vampire. "You've done it! You've killed her." That warrior's mask finally crumbles and the realization hits him. She wasn't just a monster. Faria was once an ally to us.

Hircus looks to the ground just as Syvis drops her spike spell and he rushes toward Faria and Moire. He stops short his healing spell when he sees Syvis begin to treat Moire's wounds. Instead he drops to a knee to place a hand on the pale and hairless head of Faria. "I don't know whether your spirit still dwelt in this husk, but I pray you find a seat in Torm's hall, Faria."

Hircus stands with purpose and looks back toward the house to see if anyone has witnessed their fight. He watches through the gap in the houses as people move hurriedly west. One man, leading a pony looks back east over his shoulder. What is he looking at? This does not feel right to me.

"We have just destroyed one of the master's pets. Whether he himself will show up for retribution is unclear, but there seem to be plenty of his agents at work in this town. We need to find a place to lay low or we need to make a hasty retreat. Which is it? I also think we are leaving a messy trail that anyone who hunts is might easily follow. We could continue this way. Nina fled this way." Hircus looks toward the rest of the group wondering what they might say when his heart sinks. Oh no... the bird.
 
Syvis' grip on her bow tightened as she watched Faria drag Moire -- that wasn't ... she had hoped the thorns would keep the strange creature from running, or at least slow it down, she hadn't even considered how cruel the vampire could be, yet some part of her made her feel it was more personal than anything else.

She was tempted to drop the spell, seeing the thorns dig through Moire's armor where Faria hadn't managed to, but noticed a determined look in the paladin's eyes and let it continue, already trying to plan out how to get to her to heal, to make up for the injuries her spell was causing, only to see Moire's glowing strike finish off the creature.

Storing her shortbow in the case on her hip, the elf ran up to Moire, dropping the thorn patch as she went, the spiritual hawk still circling in the air around the group offering its guidance. Reaching to her wolf-tooth necklace, the elf muttered a few words in druidic before placing a hand on the woman, sealing some of the harsher injuries where she could, trying to focus on the bite marks. She glanced over to the dead creature with a shudder, looking up at Hircus as he spoke. "Were I not so worn out ... I could try to help us hide our tracks." Holding a hand out she collected some of the rain, "As it is ... we can perhaps use this drizzle to cover us... I can try to track Nina, but I would like to retrieve Otrev before we go too far. I promised I would not abandon him ... if I leave a few of my things with you all, I should be able to get him quickly." Frowning at the injuries on Moire she added, "A rest would probably do us well too, I can attempt to aid with these injuries more carefully."
 
Moire gasps as the vampire falls at last. The terrible bite to her side has left her crippled, and in a way that suggests a simple lie down may not cure all ills. But she's survived, against one of the deadliest threats known to man. By Ilmater's hand, she and her friends have delivered this village from a vampire's grasp!

She drops to her knees beside the slain vampire and places one hand on the corpse's cheek, shaking her head regretfully as the other lowers her still-glowing handaxe. Beside her, Hircus joins her and intones powerful words of hope for the elven woman's fate. To his, she adds her own. "You didn't deserve what was done to you, old friend. May Ilmater and the Gods see the truth of who you were and welcome you to the home you deserve."

Her prayer complete, the Paladin painfully rises. She sheaths her handaxe and presses a hand against her bloodied side, once more regretful she hasn't found proper armor. Then Moire peers back the way they came and shakes her head. "I think there's little hope in concealing our work this day, my friends," she says to the cleric and the two other elves. "But if I judge rightly, the people here seem to go out of their way to avoid seeing anything. I'd suggest we neither hide nor retreat but that we make use of the precious scant daylight we have. Let's find Nina. The girl knows more and, unlike most of her villagers, I suspect she'll answer our questions when we put them to her."

Nodding at the Druid's suggestion, Moire says "Let's all go, check on those poor people in the house while Syvis retrieves her bird, and then we'll find Nina."
 
"We mustn't spend too much time in this area. What do we really know about these people from a days stay? I will agree to check on the mother and her child, but we must not linger." Hircus wrings his hands and looks around nervously. This entire village makes me uneasy. Will Barovia never let us breathe.

Hircus inspects Moire's injuries as they make their way back to the house.
 
Ina stands quietly, crossbow now hooked back in place. Her expression is clouded with concern - both for her friends and for the situation they now found themselves in. What would we have done all those years ago? The same? She nods in agreement to Hircus' statement about making themselves scarce before striding off back towards the house, fetching her hastily dropped knife on the way. Truth be told, she didn't know all that much about vampires, only the odd story. She just hoped she wouldn't have to kill a child this day.
 

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