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Curse of Strahd

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“There is ONE reason, Setesh,” Karl grinned, “Fun. Also, we get to purge undead, which is an overall helpful thing to do. Don’t you wanna be helpful? Or is your goal in life to be an asshat? That’d explain plenty, to be fair.”

Karl‘s expression changes completely at the howling. He gulps hard and his eyes dart back and forth. “So those are probably werewolves. Given how this has all gone down.”
 
Arala takes the letter with an appreciative nod and gives it a closer look. "They refer to Ireena very differently," she notes. "One says it's 'my adopted daughter,' the other says 'the love of my life.'" She keeps her expression carefully blank; she hopes that the burgomaster didn't adopt to child, only to marry her. "I think we all agree that the one we recieved is more likely to be fake, though I suppose they could both be real. Or fake."

She listens to the paladin's introduction and Setesh's retort. She doesn't agree with his tone, but she does agree with the general sentiment. At Karl's comment, she hides a smile and decides to cut in before anyone gets in an argument.

"A pleasure," says Arala first to Dynis. "I am Arala Goresinger." Then she adds, "I think it would be prudent to check. It wouldn't take long, and besides, the wounded among us can rest and recover for a moment." The wolf howls from deeper in. Werewolves? "... maybe we should send two back to the gate, just in case." She can't help the wry smile and the comment, "Or one person and my familiar. We'd know what happened to them for sure, though none of us would get there in time to help. Any volunteers? I wouldn't mind going myself."

Arala, after all, didn't have a scratch on her.

Investigation: 10+4=14
Perception: 18+1=19
 
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Arala, you take some time to look at the letters and compare. Your instincts have already provided you a good feel for what could be happening here. But, upon further inspection, there are subtle details you pick up on as well.

The original letter given to you in the tavern is crisp and unblemished. The letter pulled from this dead man’s hand is crumpled. The parchment is worn and flimsy. It’s also dated a week ago.

But there’s something else. Your deep understanding of arcana adds further understanding. You don’t know what it is, but there is a small light enchantment on the latter from the tavern (arcana DC 20 to figure it out).
 
"As we thought, this letter is older," says Arala, holding up the rumpled one and pointing to the date. But it's nice to get confirmation. "This one, though, has a minor enchantment." She gestures to the letter from the tavern.

Arala frowns, gently prodding the delicate web of magic and summoning the knowledge she has...

Arcana total: 13. RIP.
 
Setesh actually ponders Karl's words with something akin to curiosity. He doesn't see the equation between being an asshole and being unhelpful, because helping strangers for no reason other than the fact they might be in need of help does not seem like a logical reason for risking one's life. On the contrary, it seems like a waste of one's potential that could be used for a purpose that offers some benefits.

"It is merely a matter of perspective," he offers his honest insight. "What you consider generally good, others may consider generally illogical. Beside, from a neutral perspective of a person who has not been tasked with aiding one of the involved parties, one might argue that vampires, as a species, have the same right to thrive as humans. Now, let's see what else our friend here is hiding..."

With that, his attention goes back to the body.

Investigation for body: 13 + 2 = 15
Perception: 2 + 3 = 5 (suckage)
 
Setesh, you look over the mutilated body. The man’s face is a ruin. One eye was picked out of the socket by a crow. The other is flat from bursting like an egg yolk. Most of his skin has been gnawed off and his throat is missing back to his spine.

His clothes are torn to shreds. The white is broken ribs jut out of his chest leaving enough of a gap to see his heart was torn out—most likely as wolf feed. There is little left of his lungs.

In his pocket, you find 2 gold pieces. Most would have given up having emptied pockets and given the body a once over. But, you go further and find an old worn Legionnaire rank insignia patch tucked in his boot.
 
You all know that last howl was not a typical wolf’s howl.
It was deeper.
Powerful.
Karl, you’re picking up shapes moving through the forest, obscured by the mist.

Using that as a sign, you all move back onto the road.
You head back the way you came, toward the gate.
It’s getting darker.
The mist has thickened yet again.
You know you should be able to see the gate from here, but you can’t see far enough ahead.
You hear the sound of cawing crows and a murder of them explodes from the trees to your right.

Karl, more shapes moving in the forests on either side now.
You know what they are.
The way they slip between the trees.
The way they move together in a pack.
Wolves.
Some larger than a horse.
They’re heading in the direction of the gate.

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“I see them,” Karl announces quietly. “The wolves, I mean. Don’t know if they’ve got our scent, but they will soon enough. Stay alert.”

The half-elf then gestures. “Shall we?”
 
You all continue back the way you came. Back toward the gates.

Finally you see the gates through the consuming fog. When you approach, a murder of crows squawks at you in continuous cacophony from their perch on top. The gates don't budge. It's as if they are barred from the other side.

Forest skirts the gates on either side. You CAN move through the forest, but that does seem to be the wolves' territory. They haven't harassed you on the road. Yet.

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Setesh hasn't seen the wolves, but he doesn't find their presence the least bit surprising. They've let some of them run away, and of course there is the leader of the pack. It makes sense that sooner rather than later they'd be hunted down. His snake is ready to strike; maybe this time around, he'll get out of it without an injury. The next time, thought...

"How many wolves could there be in this forest?" he says dimly. It could be an endless suply that would eventually wear them down. What concerns him more, though, is the fact that their suspicion has turned out to be valid: the gate is locked, probably by magic. They've been invited here to be someone's diner. "Alright. If we can't get through, we might be able to get over it," he suggests. "How many ropes can we pool together?"
 
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"Why are we heading back?" Dynis protested the entire way back to the gates. "The quest is forward. I'm sure the exit will show itself once we deal with whatever unholy beasts that are causing the disturbances here."

Still, as the group agreed on heading back to the gate, she followed, sulking in silence. The howls of the wolves brought a chill down her spine, but what made her gasp in horror was the suggestion of the group.

"You want to head back! But you just arrived!" She looked at the rest of them in disbelief. "I for one am not going back." If she only had the Morninglord to keep her company on the road, let it be so, but she never turned her back on something that looked as important as this whole mystery (which she still didn't know anything about, but hey, a big gate that closes by itself and mangled bodies on the road spoke volumes).
 
"Welp," Karl sighs after a long pause, "I actually agree with the Knight in Overly Excited Armor. That gate might be shut, but why are we trying to leave as soon as we got here? We could do good here. And being good gets you that good cash, apparently."

Karl points at the letters. "Just relax. It doesn't matter what's fake or not. We're a tough crowd. Let's just fucking go. We won't learn anything crying at the gods-damned city gates."
 
Setesh just stops and stares at the two for a moment, unable to comprehend their way of thinking in the slightest. The word "good" certainly gets overused a lot, but without any reason behind it. "Listen," he says sharply, his eyes shifting dangerously from one to the other. "We hardly even know the both of you, yet you keep rambling about some kind of quest that is ahead and mysterious, abstract good that needs to be done - by us. Why don't you just go and handle it yourselves then, if you're so eager?!"

He lookes around, encompassing the misty, hostile looking forests with one desperate gesture. "Let's sum it up. We have a magically locked gate, an environment that seems to be trying to obscure our only escape path on purpose, a fake invitation letter and a pack of wolves trying to herd us like sheep. In what world even is that an adventure anyone would want to participate in? Walking into a trap while knowing it is a trap is not brave, it is beyond stupid."
 
"I'm not going into this trip because I'm brave," Karl scoffed, "I'm going because I'm bored. And frankly, sick of your constant nagging. Let's just do some more math here..."

Karl points at the distance. "That... whatever that is... that's keeping this gate locked? We're assuming they've got some control over the wolves, yeah? Then it's something supremely powerful and evil. It doesn't want us to leave. If you step in those woods, you probably become witch food and never heard from again. It's horrible, yeah? Terrifying. Something way out of our collective leagues."

Karl leans in towards Setesh. "You think you're gonna outsmart that whatever with some rope?"

The half-elf shrugs. "I'm more of a defeatist than you realize, snake-boy. We're stuck here now. The situation sucks, I get it. I just don't care much. We're here, and there's no point dawdling over how much this sucks. 'Cause some of those wolves I saw were like.... horse-sized. Whoever's coming, let's get going, yeah? Setesh and whoever wants to die scratching at a magically locked gate, see you in the next life."
 
Bram took a moment to check his pack for alcohol. Unfortunately he came up with nothing. The words spoken by the paladin woman annoyed him to no end. He wasn't sure if she was overly confident in her religion or just overly confident in herself. Either way, he still felt like this entire thing was a trap. While Setesh had a point about wanting to escape this place, Bram's teachings from Ixl'Van had taught him that if a Vampire has power like THIS; escape isn't an option. Karl was an ass, an ass with good reasoning behind his actions but an ass all the same. Bram got up and dusted off his pants. There honestly was no way but forward at this point. Whether they all lived to drink again or died to the wolves waiting for them was all down to fate. "I highly doubt escape is an option at this point Setesh....." said Bram as he looked back to the man in question. Bram had been one of the last to join the group, yet by this point they knew that he only did the most dangerous course of action when no easier option presented itself. With a heavy heart and a deep sigh, Bram began walking into the fog....
 
"And it's cowardly." Dynis added to the mercenary's line of reasoning. She was glad to see that at least some of them weren't already scared into leaving, even if they had questionable reasoning.

"I'll accompany you, if you don't mind." She added, walking after the man who was the first to set off in the right direction. She preferred to take point anyway.
 
Arala raises an eyebrow at Karl's reasoning of witch food. As a witch herself, the thought is distasteful but rather amusing. Karl doesn't know she's a witch; he probably assumes she's a different breed of spell caster. She listens to their arguments, finding that the others have a point.

"There's a simple solution to see if we can get over the gate," she says to Setesh. With a thought, Arala commands Angel Bones to fly over the gate. At the same time, she presses a hand against the locked gate and tries to divine how powerful it is. She continues, "At this point, it's best to stick together, especially with those wolves. We know it's a trap. That gives us an advantage. If we linger here too long, we risk making this trap setter suspicious." Arala looks at him steadily. "Are you coming?"

Arcana: 14+4=18
 
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Arala, you press the gates and look them over. It is a magical effect to be sure, but something beyond a mere spell. The gates are magically held, to be sure.

Angel Bones flits out of your hand and up to the top of the gates. It seems to disappear in the mist above for a good long moment. If you’re looking through its eyes, you see it reach the top of gates and begins to fly over.

Suddenly, the mist envelops the familiar and it reappears heading the opposite direction, away from the gates where it started. The mist turned it around and deposited it back where it came from.
 
Angel Bones, disoriented and disgruntled, lets out a squawk before landing on Arala's shoulder. "Deep graves," it croaks.

"That answers that," Arala says. "And from what I can tell, the spell woven in this gate isn't one we can subvert." (Her mother might've been able to, but the gate's magic rattles her bones. She isn't strong enough. Not yet.) Arala begins to follow after the others, throwing one last glance at Setesh.
 
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