Curse of Strahd [CLOSED]

[Baba Luga]

Moire & Hircus
Arasek Stockyard

"Yes," answers Gunther, "Baron Vallakovich gives us many festivals, to make all Vallakians happy. Not just this season, but all year round. There has been the Night of a Thousand Bells, Squash Smashing Day, the Festival of Spinning Children, Dress as a Spider Day, Wood Chopping Games, March in Honor of Amputees, Beard Trimming Parade. So many holidays. The Baron says we are the happiest town in Barovia."

"The festivals are shit," Yelena states flatly. "Nobody comes to Vallaki, festival or not, so no new business. And the Stockyard is 'requested' to 'graciously donate' prizes. But smile, always smile," she says sarcastically, using her fingers to draw the corners of her mouth into a rictus grin. "The Baron just wants everyone to be happy!"

As Hircus tours the deep, high shelves of the Stockyard, something catches his eye, tucked back behind assorted lengths of rope. It's a rusted, hand-sized disc of metal with a chipped white design on it—a right-hand gauntlet. A very old and worn amulet of Torm, similar to the one Hircus received when he resumed his relikgious studies after the war. What ever became of that gift?

Out of nowhere, a wave of vertigo overwhelms Hircus. The jarring crack of his head hitting the rocky ground is all that restores equilibrium. There is blood in his mouth and his bones ache. The shining amulet of Torm drops from his hand and rolls towards the precipace just a few feet away.

Instinctively, he tries to scramble after the holy symbol, but a heavy boot is pressing down on his other hand and he cannot move. The amulet rolls off the edge of the cliff and Hircus' heart sinks.

Then the weight on his hand lifts. There's a wet thud as the boot's wearer collapses beside him. Rolling from the cliff, Hircus sees Moire, wearing her majestic platemail, weapon in hand, standing over the foe she just knocked to the ground. Concern in her eyes, she extends a hand to him, and the vision fades.

Hircus is back in the shop, facing the tarnished amulet of Torm. According to the Stockyard tag, it's a "paperweight or doorstop (fancy) - 25 barovs." He never even fell, but his right hand is cramped and paralyzed with pain.

 

[ZombWie]

Hircus struggles to keep his balance after coming out of yet another vision. He leans a shoulder on a shelf to steady himself. "This land is a nightmare awaked!" he says out loud, then remembers his surroundings as a regretful look passes across his face. Once Hircus recovers his balance he reaches out to grab the rusted amulet only to be reminded once more of his dream with when a pinch of pain runs through his hand. Reaching again, but with his left hand this time he retrieves the amulet for closer inspection. The heavy, metal disc is the first truly familiar thing that he has come across in Barovia. He rubs a little corrosion from the surface with his thumb as the heat of emotion floods his face and neck. He remembers the hours by the hearth listening to his mother's stories of Torm many years ago.

I have missed three of my four daily prayers in this cursed land. I will not miss the fourth. Hircus drops to one knee with the amulet held tightly to his chest.

"Oh, Torm the Righteous, who guides my way,
Guides my hand throughout the day,
You light has... has...", he pauses remembering the corruption he witnessed in the divine flame. What should have been a crepuscular ray of Tormish power was... wrong. Hircus shakes his head and squeezes tight his right hand leaning into the pain.

Speaking plainly to Torm, "Have I strayed from your path?", he asks quietly, but then with increased intensity, "Have I done something to lose your favor? Is this some kind of trial!? I have sworn to walk your road in search of those dark places so that I may spill your light upon all evil. Is this land so dark that your brilliance cannot break through?" His gritted teeth show through his thick beard and with a fierce determination he continues with a more subdued tone, "Somehow, I will break through this black shroud."

Hircus' chest heaves while he kneels for a minute longer in contemplation. He places a hand on his knee to steady himself then stands and walks to Gunther at the counter holding the amulet in his clenched right hand he asks, "How much for the door stop?"

 

[jfish]

Ina swirls the last traces of wine on her tongue, hoping to grasp onto some faint normalcy. Glancing around the room she notes the spectacled man’s features, her eyes flicking to his ears and back to his face. She adjusts her pose slightly to appear more at ease - she wasnt sure if it was her tiredness, the day as a whole, or some other factor but she found it difficult to slip into "work" mode - she used to slip in and out of shadows and personas like other people changed outfits, but today it felt like moving through thick honey. She compromises - adding a bit of a tired lilt to her voice rather than trying to come across as a local - sometimes too much perceived knowledge can be as dangerous as being seen as a stranger.

"There was a pack chased us down near the bridge," she remarks to the bearded man, nodding in answer to his question, "There was a larger one, too, but it got away." She sighs in annoyance, though her annoyance comes from...well, the whole situation she found herself in. She tucks a clumped strand of hair behind her ear, watching keenly for any adverse reactions. "I for one am looking forward to being clean again. Can we not stay out too long, dear?" She smiles tiredly at Tegan before looking back to the bearded man, "though it would be good to hear any news from town?"

 

[Baba Luga]

Ina & Tegan
Bluewater Inn

​

The bearded man's eyes dart quickly to Ina's exposed ear and back. If he has unfriendly thoughts inspired by those lobes, he does a good job stifling their expression.

"Hrmm," he mutters, continuing his inspection of your wolf. "You can always find packs along the Old Svalich. You should travel by day, travel fast, unless you're actually looking for trouble. Doesn't sound like you were. Lucky you didn't meet one of the really big ones."

"Nothing new in Vallaki. Cleaned up at the latest festival, but now I've got a shed full of headless wolves ain't getting any fresher, if you know what I mean. You two coming from Krezk of Barovia village? Yeah, I know your story. Came through the mists, 'Where are we? How do we get out of this cursed place?' Well, you don't, but I'll give you four barovs for this creature if you help me drag in outside. It's only because it's still got it's head on and I'm awfully short on those these days."

"Enough business, Szoldar!" interrupts the woman with the streak in her hair. "Relax!"

"Come over and talk to us, new friends," she calls to Ina and Tegan as she waves them over to where she stands with the man in spectacles and the auburn-haired woman who Ina suspects shares her noble background.

Moire & Hircus
Arasek Stockyard

"25 barovs," Gunther reads off the slip of paper tied to the old amulet.

"Sorry, no discount for theatrics, dear," Yelena calls over to Hircus. "But if you want the god with light, Morninglord's the boy for you. That is, if anyone ever sees him again. Oh, I know, maybe the Festival of the Blazing Sun will do the trick." She winks at Moire.

 

[ZombWie]

"Aye, so it does. I will need to consult with my comrades with a price so steep. I did not do the killing, so the entirety of the share can't go entirely to my needs." Hircus sets the amulet on the counter and turns to Moire. "If you have seen what you need to see then maybe we should head to the church to meet Ina and Tegan. I am about dead on my feet and would like to get back here to rest as soon as is possible."

 

[TemplePhantom]

"Deal." Tegan says as he hefts the wolf once more (hoping it's final time he'll have to do so) and carries it out the door. As he passes through the Bluewater's door, the situation is reminiscent of the last time he carried a dead dog out of a tavern. Tegan forgets that he's carrying what was once a mortal enemy, and gingerly sets the wolf down on the ground outside the tavern, patting its head before running his fingers across his eyes, gathering what moisture had formed. "Szoldar, was it? Thank you for your patronage." Tegan smiles and holds his hand out expectantly.

 

[Baba Luga]

Tegan
Porch of the Bluewater Inn

​

The hunter follows after Tegan, taking a longbow and a heavy wolfskin coat from beside the door on his way out. With the wolf laid on the ground, and Tegan ready to accept payment, the man fishes around in his pockets.

"Yes, Szoldar Szoldarovich," he says. "What do I call you?" He finds four small gold coins which he presses into Tegan's outstretched palm. They are so incredibly worn that they might well have been minted hundreds of years ago. What must have once been a face on one side is a mere blob, and the flip side depicts a boxy something that might be a house or castle. Sharp, irregular edges tell Tegan this coin has been shaved many times over the course of its long life.

There's a heavy clomping behind Tegan. A young man with a neat beard, flushed cheeks and fine doublet stumbles down a narrow staircase that runs from the porch to the Bluewater's second floor. He uses one hand to brace himself on the railing while the other holds a half-full glass of wine. The man is drunk, and not in that ripe juicy way that distinguishes a good mark. He has turned rotten.

Szoldar shakes his head in disdain as the crapulent youth reaches the porch. "839 Bloodhawk...very good year," he says sarcastically, holding his half-full glass up to Tegan. "I say it is very bad year. Hah!" He throws the glass to the ground, where it shatters, spattering droplets of wine on this own boots, and Tegan's as well, before turning to stagger off the porch and into the street.

Szoldar spits in disgust. "Ach. Spoiled Wachter whelp. Such waste!" He kneels down, rubs his hand in the spilled wine and then sucks the precious drink from his fingertips.

"I will be back shortly," Szoldar says to the two women still smoking their pipes out here. "Do not let anyone touch," he commands, pointing to the wolf. "A pleasure," he grumbles to Tegan, before turning to make his own way from the Bluewater Inn.

 

[jfish]

Ina smiles and moves out of the way to give Tegan and Szoldar room to exit. She turns to place her wine glass on a nearby surface and takes a second to prepare herself mentally. You’ve done this hundreds of times, she reminds herself, pull yourself together. But this was different. Even the air felt different here - the usual zing of adventure, the sort of feeling she usually yearned for, had been replaced by a smog of dread. She was very lost. She sighs and turns around, fully tucking her hair back and pushing the length of it over her shoulders to keep it from falling across her face.

"Ina," she bows slightly at the waist to the three people as she reaches them. "Forgive my appearance, it’s been a long day."

 

[Baba Luga]

Ina
Bluewater Inn, by the Fireplace

​

On her way to the fireplace Ina has time to better take in the decor here. The common room ceiling is two stories high; a staircase past the fireplace provides access to a balcony that runs around the perimeter. Wolf heads are mounted on the balcony's railing. As Ina looks around, she sees a man on the balcony stumble outside and slam the door behind himself.

The three people who have been eagerly awaiting Ina's approach bow back, though the auburn-haired woman does so only after first making a subtle movement with her hands that Ina recognizes as the unconscious start of a curtsy.

"Welcome to the Bluewater Inn, Ina," says the woman with the streak in her hair, as she grasps Ina's hand with both of hers. "I am Danika Dorakova, boss here, together with my husband Urwin, who tends the bar. It is fortunate you and your man came by just now. That was the last of the wine for a few days at least. Well water and strong tea is all we have to offer now. Or, if you are hungry, plenty of wolf steaks, bread, and turnip pies. Or perhaps you like borscht?"

"If you stay in Vallaki, you may have more wine in just a few days. We sent some travelers to say hello at the winery and find out what is the holdup. It is probably just a small thing—broken cart axle, sick oxen. Or maybe my father-in-law is just having the gout."

"Rooms, though, we have plenty of. Only two guests now, these here," she says, indicating the man and woman beside her. "Ina, I present Sofiya, traveler from Barovia village, and Mister Rictavio, a visitor from far away."

Sofiya and Rictavio bow to Ina once more. "Very pleased to meet you," says Sofiya demurely, extending her hand in a refined manner that is quite familiar to Ina. If this girl is trying to conceal a noble upbringing, she needs to take some lessons.

Tegan has just reentered the Inn and heads over to a group of occupied tables past the bar, the ones Danika called out to when she said something about "lovers" in her toast.

The half-elf man with spectacles, Rictavio, smiles warmly at Ina. He clearly notes Tegan's return as well. "I am absolutely charmed to meet you, my dear. Would it surprise you to learn that I am a stranger here myself? Yes, I Rictavio find myself stranded in this forlorn misty quagmire called Barovia. But fear not, I shall persevere and propser, even on this gloomy shore!"

"I'm afraid you've just missed three more of our ilk. They are the ones Danika spoke of, who have gallantly gone off questing for our missing wine. Hopefully you will be here to meet them on their triumphant return."

"You say it has been a long day for you as if it is your first here. Am I correct perchance? I think you will not like the nights much better. Indeed not. Please, tell us of your adventures thus far. I have only a few months seniority on you, but I will share what wisdom and advice I can. There are many strange and wonderful things here, mostly of the terrifying variety."

Tegan
Bluewater Inn, Common Room

Back inside the inn, Tegan sees that Ina has moved over to the fireplace and is making conversation with the three people there. Some other guests mill around in this open room, finishing their wine, but most of the patrons are crowded around tables back past the bar. Always with an eye for a game going on, Tegan notes that four people at one of the tables are playing cards. Moving castually a bit closer, he can see the hand of one of the players. She holds three cards, illustrated in a familiar style: The Rogue, The Beast and The Elementalist.

​

 

[TemplePhantom]

At the table adjecent to the gamblers, sits a woefully unattended glass of wine, practically calling Tegan's name. Glancing around for an apparent owner and seeing none, he lifts the glass and begins to sip while he watches the game, trying to get a better understanding of the rules. His free hand retrieves a Barov from his pocket and begins to roll it across his fingers.

The elementalist card catches his attention, and he keeps an eye out for the moment it's played.

Already, he's formulating hand movements which could conceal a duplicitous discard to gain advantage in this game which seems to revolve around emptying one's hand.

 

[jfish]

"I’m grateful to have arrived in time, then." Ina returns the smiles warmly, "We did pass a group of others on our journey here, they said they were ‘Vistani’? I don’t know if they’re the ones you mean?"

She watches for any reactions at the name then looks towards the fire, thoughtful. "As you’ve correctly surmised, we’re not from here, we...arrived, as it were, earlier today. And since then we’ve been attacked by shrubbery, unsettlingly large and human-like wolves, and I’ve been told I’m not a ‘real elf’, so there’s that." She shrugs and runs a hand through her hair, grimacing at the texture, "However - I feel as though the place is not wholly unfamiliar to me? I can only apologise if we have, in fact, met before and I’ve forgotten. And if not - everyone seems very accepting of strangers here - are there are a lot of travellers from elsewhere? I imagine they’d end up here if they did, this is a very welcoming place."

She laughs, slightly embarrassed, "Sorry, I have a tendency to ramble. Please, tell me more of yourselves - How did you get here, Rictavio? And what brings you here, Sofiya? It seems like this is a dangerous place to travel without due cause? Do you get many visitors from elsewhere? The general word seems to be nobody leaves once they get here, why is that?"

The last few questions are aimed towards Danika, and a small pang of distress flares in her stomach as she asks them. She tries to not watch Sofiya too closely, though she’s desperate to know why the woman is hiding her upbringing. And another visitor from elsewhere? The whole situation was becoming more convoluted each hour, it seemed.

 

[Baba Luga]

Ina
Bluewater Inn, by the Fireplace

"Oh no, Ina, not the Vistani! They are the Devil's own children and will laugh at our misfortunes before lending a hand. We do not let them into Vallaki. No, it was three adventures who came with Sofiya from Barovia village who are our champions of the grape vine."

Sofiya chimes in, unprompted, "I have come from Barovia because my brother inherit...got our father's farm. My brother and I don't get along, so I will have a fresh start here in Vallaki instead."

"Yes," says Danika, a bit perplexed, "she has come here for a fresh start. However, back to Vistani: if it was they who called you not an elf, it is because they live close with the elves of Barovia, who are quite different from you and Mister Rictavio. The Vistani are closed-minded and will not see that there are elves from elsewhere too."

"They say," interjects Rictavio, "that my blood is not elvish because true elves do not make children with non-elves. They say you are not an elf because your skin is far too fair, and, more importantly, the female elves are never seen. They are all invisible and fly among the trees, where they play with the birds and pick the high, sweet fruit."

Danika furrows her brow and shakes her head in disagreement. "No, Mister Rictavio. I have not heard of these invisible she-elves. It is well-known that the elf women all died many centuries ago from a terrible curse. And when the youngest male living elf finally passes on, that will be the end of their kind."

"But Lady Danika, that story is too sad! What would the Baron say? My story is happier, ergo, the better of the two. Don't you agree, Ina?"

Before Ina can answer, Sofiya touches her arm and says, "If you did not come from Barovia village, you must have come from the west. But you say you did not see them? A big strong man named Tobar Kale, a dwarf who worships the lightning gods, a woman with horns on her head? There are not so many strangers here that you would forget them."

"Sofiya is right," says Danika. "Visitors from far away come in clusters, but then, many years in between. Just recently we have Rictavio, you and the man there, and Tobar Kale and friends. Before that, none since the one they call the Mad Mage, from last year."

Her voice takes a more somber tome. "Sadly, once here, all foreigners are trapped with us in this little valley. They come in through the mists, but cannot go out again. Only the Vistani can come and go as they please. That is partly why they laught at us. And always, when the foreigners become trapped here, they are eventually at odds with the Devil, and have very bad endings."

Sofiya blanches at Danika's poor prognosis for visitors to Barovia.

"Of course," continues Danika, in a more hopeful tone, "If visitors stand out and do big things, people of Barovia will remember them, even many years later. Saint Markovia for instance!"

It is suddenly uncomfortably hot, standing here by the fireplace. The name "Markovia" throbs in Ina's ears and down the back of her neck. The leather armor is too tight. She can't breathe. She is holding her breath. Why is she holding her breath? Because she just heard footsteps. She's crouched in the dark, holding the beautiful, jewel-encrusted reliquary she took from that dusty altar across the chapel.

A hand out of nowhere—so fast—scruffs her like a kitten and lifts her to her feet. The priceless reliquary drops to the ground.

"What do we have here?" the man barks. "A burglar? Everyone knows this abbey and everything in it is claimed by Aurica Markovia in the name of Lathander the Morninglord. Hey!" her captor calls out, "Come see what I found here!"

"What is it now, Elmo?" answers a woman's voice from outside in the hall. The speaker comes around the corner and into the chapel, holding a lit torch in front of her. Through the flames, Ina sees that it is Moire, but in the vision, it is the face of a stranger whom Inawenys is seeing for the first time."

Caught like a rat in a trap, Ina's less-dignified instincts take over and she flails wildly at the man holding her.

Tegan
Bluewater Inn, Among the Gamesters

Bit by bit, Tegan absorbs more of the rules to this unfamiliar game. The woman with the Elementalist makes it her next play, and it gets a strong reaction from the other players. Whereas before, the players were trying to best each other's plays with higher and higher cards, now the aim is apparently to underplay the last card put down. This observation joins other like tidbits in the still-mostly-blank rulebook forming in Tegan's mind.

One clear danger is that the loser's payouts to their opponents vary based on just how large a hand they get stuck with. The upper threshold is quite daunting. On the plus side, holding a larger hand would certainly make it easier to slide a few extra cards off with each play, rapidly bringing someone of Tegan's abilities back down to a manageable count.

The real problem Tegan is having is in fishing an invitation from the group of players. They seem to read his signals all wrong, so that instead of asking him to join, they turn their chairs to prevent him from seeing their hands. He's just coming around to the realization that he's going to have to risk straight-out introducing himself and begging for a lesson, when there's a disturbance over a the fireplace. Multiple voices cry out in surprise, and Tegan turns to see Ina punch the woman with the striped hair right in the jaw. The man with Spectacles grabs one of Ina's arms and another man rushes out from behind the bar, running in the direction of the sudden fracas by the fireplace. Ina is shouting incoherently as she pulls back her free hand to take a swing at the half-elf grappling her.

The card players rise half out of their seats and crane their necks to see what's going on. The woman who played the Elementalist has put her hand down on the table and is dashing towards Ina as well.

 

[TemplePhantom]

Tegan moves quickly toward Ina, declaring the incantation for magic missile as thunderously as he can, but holding the spell in a clenched fist pointed at the man who is currently grappling Ina. Tegan drew forth the spell, intending to let the spell dissipate before attacking any of the patrons, but they didn't have to know that. It was a costly bluff, but one he hoped would put a temporary pause to the commotion.

"Remove your hands! Is this how the Bluewater treats its patrons?" Tegan shouts at the spectacled man. As he speaks, he quickly extends and retracts a few fingers of his right hand to allow small purple flares of the volatile mana to escape menacingly.

 

[Baba Luga]

Ina & Tegan
Bluewater Inn, by the Fireplace

Hardly are the words out of Tegan's mouth when he's hit from behind by the lunging form of the bartender. Both of them tumble to the ground, but Tegan manages to maintain focus on the readied magic missile and he lands with his hand still aimed at the man with spectacles who is grappling Ina.

The dark-skinned woman who held the Elementalist card rushes up to Tegan, drawing a short blade from under her cloak as she comes. She holds the blade over him so that it will a simple thing to jab downward if he tries to roll, stand or do anything else that she doesn't like.

With a grand flourish, the bespectacled man releases his grip on Ina. "No, friends, I was only trying to defuse the situation. The name Rictavio will not be associated with such a ridiculous cascade of violence! I have witnessed the two-headed ogres of the Baffling Blind pluck arms from sockets like ripe rasperies. Let us not do so here!" Unrestrained once more, Ina kicks Rictavio in the shin, sending him wincing backwards in pain. With the contingency of Tegan's spell removed, the magic evaporates to no effect. The gamester still holds her blade cautiously over Tegan. The bartender gets up and dashes over to embrace Danika.

"Give her room," Danika commands, to those few people still in the immediate area—most of the guests seem to have gone outside, or be staring from the safety of the tables. Ina continues to thrash about where she stands, but makes no move to approach any of the onlookers. Finally, she regains conscious control of herself, breathing heavily. "There," says Danika. "It has passed."

"Urwin," she says gently to the man who knocked Tegan on his ass. "There is a bottle of the Old Jax in my office. Please get it. I think she will need another drink." The man heads out through a small door behind the bar. There's a bit a murmuring from over at the tables about this special reserve of alcohol beyond the "last" glasses of wine you all just toasted.

The woman covering Tegan sheathes her blade but keeps her hand close to the pommel and her eye on him.

 

[jfish]

Ina's eyes still reflect fear as she breathes heavily, shaking. Her head throbs wildly for a few beats and her brow furrows intensely. She looks down with concern when she feels a similar sensation in her hand. Confused, the elf unclenches her fist, hissing a little when the straightens joints pulse with pain. Suddenly she's very aware that she's being watched and she looks around warily, cradling her hand to her chest. Vaguely aware that Danika is speaking, Ina looks over to the woman, blinking a few times when she sees the other woman holding her jaw. Exhaustion washes over Ina so it takes her a few seconds to connect the two, but when she does her mouth makes a small "o" shape, and she whispers a small apology before manoeuvring back into a chair, falling in an undignified manner into the seat.

"I am so sorry, Danika, what happened? I - I don't...I didn't..." She trails off, looking alarmed when she sees Tegan prone and makes a move to get up and go over to her friend.

 

[TemplePhantom]

Tegan is relieved as the sensation of magic fades from his fingertips. Looking up at the dark skinned woman, he says "If I get up will you try and stick that thing in me, or are you decent enough to buy me a drink first?"

As he sees Ina making her way over, he holds out an arm, thankful for the assistance. He's not usually a lightweight, but two drinks and the bartender's assault have left the room spinning.

 

[Baba Luga]

Ina & Tegan
Bluewater Inn, by the Fireplace

The woman from the card game looks to Danika, who flicks her wrist dismissively a few times. She pats the sheathed blade, takes a step back and tells Tegan, "Don't worry, I know you prefer to watch," nodding at the abandoned card game.

Urwin returns through the door behind the bar, carrying a small bottle with a colorful label. He fills a green cordial glass, which he brings over to Ina. It smells and looks like very strong brandy.

"It is my fault, Ina," Danika offers. "You have had a long, difficult day and I kept you standing by the fire revisiting the agony of it. The mists of Barovia are heavy on the mind. It will take time to adjust. Will the two of you—I do not know your name sir—be spending the night? I promise no more questions until morning. Beds are only 5 ghakis each, and it is a private room."

Many of the guests have left, but the card players go back to their game. Rictavio and Danika compare bruises while Sofiya watches from the bottom of the staircase.

 

[TemplePhantom]

Tegan rubs his chin as Danika speaks, feeling what would most certainly be an unlovely bruise, were it not for his dark beard.

"Thank you for the offer, and for understanding. I apologize for threatening your friend. I was only looking out for mine. It's Tegan, by the way."

"We are but half of a quartet, and will shortly need to reunite with our friends, but Ina and I will surely take your hospitable offer to them and perhaps be back for those beds." Tegan finishes his statement with a bow, and proceeds towards the door. Locking elbows with Ina in an attempt to both stabilize her and to hurry her along before she has a chance to ramble on about sensitive subjects, as he knows she is apt to do.

Not one to deny the attraction of a woman with lethal resolve, Tegan winks at the dark skinned woman as he and Ina leave.

 

[Epiphany]

Moire listens to the exchange of information, even as she looks over the Stockyard and all of its inventory with a keen eye. Gunther's remarks about the town's festivals seem strange to her, and her impression is reinforced when Yelena speaks. As she ponders what she's learned about the town, the Paladin at last notices Hircus and how struck he seems. When she leans over his shoulder and spots the old amulet of Torm, a vague familiarity steals over her. Torm's symbol is recognizable enough but this specific one...

Hircus' reaction alone is enough to compel her to speak. And when she does so, she pats Gunther's arm as she steps by him to look Yelena in the eye. She shares the woman's grin, well aware of the shopkeep's skepticism that a festival dedicated to Lathandar will draw the God directly. It's plain this town has seen its share of suffering. Perhaps it was time to remind them they weren't alone in that.

"25 barovs would be a fair price for such an excellent piece of worked metal...if it was still excellent. I think we can both see it's seen better days. My friend's theatrics aren't a bargaining ploy but the expression of a man who sees something that means something to him, something personal despite the wear and tear. Something no one else in this town will see."

Moire sighs, remembering her past. Then she smiles slightly, ruefully. "That's a terrible thing to admit, isn't it. Somehow, it came into your possession. It's been here the Gods only know how long. No one local wants your paperweight and you don't have business coming in from anywhere else. And here you have two travelers, worn and torn ourselves. And we admit to you it means more to us than it does to you. Easy enough to drive up its value."

"Except you've known your share of wear and tear too, haven't you. This isn't Vallaki's better days. Your Baron tries to buff the rust off, as you might have done on this old amulet, but you and I know celebrations don't bring loved ones back, or keep the wolves and what else away from the walls and the fields. Perhaps you've even resigned yourself, believing nothing will ever make things better."

Moire lets her words hang in the air for a moment. "We will."

"We're not from around here but wherever we've gone, we've tried our best to make things better for the people we meet. We've killed half a dozen wolves already that would have preyed upon anyone who wanted to come to Vallaki and do business here. We don't look like much right now...but like you and your establishment, we're tougher than we seem. We endure despite our trials, just like you. When we see trouble, whether it's wolves or simply a sickle about to fall upon a hapless man, compassion moves us to do what we can for you. Just as, I hope, compassion will move you to let that amulet you've never sold go to a man who considers it priceless."

"Whatever you decide, I'm sure it'll be more than fair. You've given enough donations 'requested' of you. Whatever we can arrive at, at least you'll know there's one person here whose smile," and Moire imitates Yelena's earlier caricature of a smile before glancing back at Hircus, "will be sincere."

 

[Baba Luga]

Moire & Hircus
Arasek Stockyard

Yelena listens to Moire's entreaty with an expression of great forbearance. She almost interrupts once or twice, but crosses her arms instead. Gunther, meanwhile, appears quite moved; tears well up at the corners of his eyes as he looks down at the drab amulet, trying to see what Hircus and Moire do in it. When Moire has finished, Yelena has her say.

"There's truth in what you say, but I wager you've a bit more learning to do about Barovia before you go around making such bold proclamations. You see, I don't doubt your sincerity, either of you. It's just that not one week ago, another devout stranger stood right there and said nearly those same words to me: here to help, gonna make things better, gonna slay the Devil himself! With those terms, why not give them a sweet deal? We'd only be helping ourselves, after all. And now, just days later...well, it's none of Gunther and me's business how it came to pass, but here you two are wearing that holy man's fancy armor and asking will we buy his big friend's hammer."

"Like I said, not our business how you came to have these things. Just so you know that if I'm hard and bitter, at least I've earned it honest. And we do like you," she says, putting a hand on Gunther's shoulder. "I mean, we are letting you spend the night here, aren't we? But I'll tell you what: you want to help? I've got something a little less grandiose in mind. Those 'donations' we're making to the festival? The Baron's man Strazni is coming by to pick them up tomorrow morning. I don't like him one bit, and Gunther likes him less. It's never happy days when he's nosing around here. Usually more 'gifts' go out the door." Gunther nods in agreement.

"If you'll take that stuff there," she points to two large sacks leaning against the wall, "over to the Baron's mansion tonight, we'll knock, let's say, fifteen barovs off this beauty your friend fancies. I trust you, so you just swear on whatever god you like that you'll do it, and we can settle up now or when you come back to bed down for the evening. What do you say?"

I small voice that has been silent for quite a while whimpers behind Moire's ear. Little claws dig into her flesh and tiny teeth grind together. "Nooooooo," groans Vanwandir from his hiding place. "Not a Hairy Golem."

 

[Epiphany]

Moire smiles at Yelena's response, with a certain lightness to her eyes to suggest she understands how patient the other woman was and is entirely attentive to each point made in reply. "You're right. We don't know much about Barovia. We know nothing at all about any Devil. But we do know those poor people you sold to last week perished in the woods, evidently at the teeth of wild beasts, for we found wolves upon them when our paths crossed. We prayed over them according to our faith...and I imagine to you, we're just another pair of travelers someone else may say their prayers over. No sense in getting too attached." Her tone is light, even playful, given she's blithely discussing the perhaps probable deaths of Hircus and herself.

"Your offer's a fair one." She turns to look at Hircus with a raised eyebrow. Moire can tell the man's weary. For as wearying as this day's been, he's older and twice now he's been brought to the point of death within a span of hours. Torm can do as much as Ilmater in steeling His followers for hardship but it's for Hircus to decide what he's able to do. All she can do is reach out a hand and squeeze her comrade's arm. A show of solidarity, support, and a willingness to risk things once more to help him reclaim something important to him.

And if the man can muster up a little more energy for the evening, Moire turns back to Yelena and says, "I swear by Ilmater, whose hands have never failed me, that my hands won't fail you. But you'll need to point us the way. And we'll need to confer with the other two of our party first. We'll either take the sacks or settle up for the asked for price within the hour."

As for Vanwandir, Moire winces slightly at the tiny claws but can't suppress a faint chuckle at the familiar's grief. "Not quite a Hairy Golem, my friend. For one thing, I have a lot less hair."

 

[ZombWie]

" I can't say no to such a request whether it is for my gain or otherwise. Torm wills it." Hircus places his hand over Moire's on his arm and gives it a pat as he eyes her with a smile of deep gratitude. "I expect our friends will be as willing, but I can't speak for them. As Moire says, we will return within the hour. Thank you for the fairness you have shown two strangers."

 

[Baba Luga]

Meeting at the Church of Saint Andral

Yelena and Gunther have no objection to your whole group discussing the offer and coming back later. The worst that can happen is they never see any of you again, they keep the old amulet, and have to deal with the Baron's man Strazni come morning. They do remind Moire and Hircus that they'll be closing up shortly and to knock next door if you come back later and the shop is closed.

The light out in the stockyard's lot has faded a bit more during the time Moire and Hircus spent in the shop. There's now a dull hammering sound coming from the building across the lot that has the coffin-shaped sign on its front. The other buildings here, as well as the green covered wagon parked between two of them, are all quiet and still. A few birds fly overhead. Hircus' hand, the one that was trod on in the vision, still aches, and he can barely twitch his index finger.

"Well, then," says Vanwandir, louder now that you're away from Yelena and Gunther, "I suppose it's time to see what escapade Bag of Peaches and the Frog Finder have for us. Personally, I think it will be something to do with retrieving a fishing pole that Deadbeat Gargoyle dropped in the river, but really, the possibilities are endless."

"I should say, Loopanom, I am infinitely relieved that you saw the light back there and gave that couple the brush off. Really, grocery delivery? It was a test of your fortitude and you passed admirably. Though I am curious to know what was in those sacks. If we were to agree to the foolish errand, but then just take the bags...well, I've already seen enough of you two to know that's too much to hope for. But if it's any encouragement, Bouch Badar, the one also called Stump Slab, did not like the merchants at all; he found them mean and parsimonious, their prices an outrage. Just putting things in perspective."

On the main road back to the church, there are even fewer people out. You pass a couple of the town's guards with their helmets off and held in hand, as well as some common folk hurredly going about their business with an eye to the fading day. Pale lights now flicker behind some of the greasy windows along your way.

It takes about five minutes to pass the Bluewater Inn and another five before the doors of the church are in sight. Tegan and Ina are waiting there. The crowd of locals you saw on your way into town has dispersed, leaving only a stoop-shouldered, dark-haired young man sweeping the steps. He's apparently one of the indifferent sort of Barovians; he sweeps around Ina and Tegan as if they are pieces of furniture someone left out here.

The church's stained-glass windows are in sad shape, with many of the colored pieces cracked or missing. A twisted wrought-iron fence surrounds the graveyard next door.

 

[TemplePhantom]

Tegan waves emphatically at his friends and puts on the most ridiculous smile he can before greeting Moire and Hircus with "You'll never believe who started a barfight!" Tegan then goes on to recount a somewhat exaggerated tale of his heroic rescuing of Ina.

After listening to Hircus and Moire's adventures (feeling better now that most of the rest of the party has also been experiencing inconvenient visions) he sighs.

"I'd rather not run errands this late, I was really looking forward to that bed. Can I not just give you some of the coin we made at the tavern and you can purchase the item at full price?" Tegan trails off with a quiet mumble of "or I could just borrow it from them."

 

[ZombWie]

Hircus nods along with Tegan's story and then begins to speak, but only a croak comes out. He looks down at his still sore hand and flexes his fingers. Then begins again more loudly, "I had another spell when I found the amulet. Another vision. It was clear in my mind and now sits in my head like a memory like a single link in a chain disconnected from the rest."

"I was knocked to the ground in a fight and I saw my amulet roll away. I tried to scramble after it, but someone pinned my hand to the ground with a boot. It felt like it was in the vice of Torog himself. Would you believe I can still feel the pangs in my fingers?" Again, he flexes his fingers and massages it with his other hand. "Moire, you knocked my attacker down. You came to my aid then just as quickly as you did in the shop today. I wonder how many times you have saved me, dear Moire?" He chuckles a bit, then leans on the church wall. "I want to rest. I need to rest, but I can't deny these folks this request. Besides, an amulet of the Tormish order isn't an item that can be merely purchased. It is earned through sacrifice and trial of will. I will go alone if I must, but I must go."