Curse of Strahd [CLOSED]

[Epiphany]

Moire chuckles at Tegan and Ina's exploits, though she gives the elf a rather concerned look. Tegan's next suggestion is welcome, at least in part, and more generous than she might have expected. His quiet mumble is met with a stern shake of her head, which he doubtlessly expects.

Hircus' response isn't especially surprising but it's still laudable and the Paladin looks approvingly on the older man. "You will not go alone," she says quite firmly, focusing on the task that lay ahead of them rather than the distracting prospect of her companion's words. Of course she must have gone to his aid in the past. Yet remembering the specifics, as he evidently did, seems strangely out of reach. What's more, if he remembered losing the amulet, what accounted for its worn condition now? Had it been enervated by something unnatural?

Or was a darker power at work?

"You're welcome to stay with Peaches and Froggy, if you like," Moire says to Vanwindir, smiling once more at her abbreviations of their informal names. "I can almost guarantee they'll choose bed over a fishing pole at this point. If you choose to come with me, however, I would welcome your company...and your eyes." The Paladin's voice drops to a whisper to the bat as she adds, "The errands themselves may be foolish enough but they're also an excuse and an opportunity to lay eyes on this Baron's holdings. Something tells me our mystery, and perhaps more besides, may be bound up there. I for one would like to see what we may be up against. And this gives us a reasonable cover with a plausible rationale. I plan to make the most of it."

 

[jfish]

Ina leans heavily on the fence of the churchyard, ignoring the street sweeper as much as he ignores them. She gazes at the edges of the broken panes and wonders how long ago they broke, turning sharply as she hears Moire and Hircus approach. Ina tries to not avoid eye contact with the paladin, but her skin flushes slightly in shame when she catches Moire looking at her, and offers a weak smile at Tegan’s tale. As Moire relays the plan, she yawns tiredly but pushes herself away from the fence.

"As much as I would like to rest, doing this would make us better...informed," the elf stifles a yawn and rubs her face, then looks pointedly at Hircus, "And you are certainly not going alone. Did they say how long it would take? It’s getting late and we’ve been told it gets even more dangerous at night..."

 

[TemplePhantom]

"I just.. I just want this day to end already. It feels like it's been months since we woke up in that pitch black grove." Tegan closes his eyes, inhales through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth.

"Well I'm certainly not trapsing about by myself, so if we're doing this let's get it done!" Tegan punctuates his statement by kicking his boot against the church steps, knocking some dirt loose in an attempt to transfer some of his frustration to the dutiful street sweeper.

"I, however, am not spending the night in some stranger's basement. Probably wake up with our eyes and lips sewn shut!" Tegan then proceeds to move at a brisk pace down the path he saw Moire and Hircus come from.

 

[Baba Luga]

Delivery to the Baron's

The young man with the broom who tends the front of the church finally acknowledges your presence as you head off together, but only by stopping to stare at you walking away.

The trip back to the stockyard is another ten minutes. Passing the Bluewater Inn again, you see that the women who were smoking their pipes are no longer on the porch; no one else has taken their place.

Vanwandir grumbles and murmurs to himself for the first part of the trip. Once you’ve passed the inn, he quite suddenly takes off from Moire’s shoulder, disappearing into the air. A moment later, Tegan feels something land of his shoulder, though there's nothing to be seen.

“Cor lo Tatzi,” whispers the invidible familiar’s voice next to Tegan’s right ear, “I would speak to you for a moment: I wish to congratulate you on exiting that low establishment without some onerous task in tow. In confidence, you seem to be the member of this band with the keenest sense about them. For instance, what you say about calling it a day and not extending things with this transportation of goods—simply commendable. Why on earth do we need to see what’s inside of a manor?”

“But,” Vanwandir continues, “why not also consider the expediency of bedding down in the spartan quarters that have been offered? Why risk another foray into that lion’s den of a roadhouse? Have I not already warned about Cold Memory and Deadbeat Gargoyle being well acquainted with your companions’ new wardobery? I’m sure a man of your perspicacity must see what complications might arise.”

Speaking louder now, so that all may hear, Vanwandir pipes up, “No hard feelings, Loopanom, but I will be riding with Bag of Peaches for the nonce.”

Yelena and Gunther’s trading post is still open when you arrive. They acknowledge Ina and Tegan as new faces. Yelena seems slightly surprised that you’ve decided to deliver the two heavy sacks to the Baron. She gives directions to his mansion, which is on one side of the public green a few blocks south of the Bluewater inn.

The sacks are awkward to transport and end up being dragged rather than held aloft for the final leg of the journey. Even in the fading light, it’s easy enough to follow Yelena’s directions; the mansion is by far the largest building along the road south of the Bluewater Inn. But the scars of its old plastered stone walls pale in comparison to a small, brightly-painted shop you pass along the way. A sign in the shape of a rocking horse hangs over the shop’s closed door. It’s dark inside, but in the lead-framed windows you can see a jumbled display of strange toys, and placards proclaiming, “Is No Fun, Is No Blinsky!”

A knock on the Baron’s door raises a good deal of barking, followed soon after by a young, rose-cheeked woman with curly brown hair smiling at the lot of you with a touch of confusion. Then she notices the sacks from the stockyard, and, laughing nervously, says, “Oh, for the festival,” in a faint, wispy voice. “Please, come in.” She steps aside so you can enter. Through the open door you see the mansion’s foyer, where other bags and boxes sit here and there. A staircase leads to the second floor and a long, carpeted hallway runs the length of the house before you.

 

[ZombWie]

"Yes, indeed. Donations from Gunther and Yelena at the stockyard. If you'll show us where to set them down we will be on our way. I imagine you have many preparations for the festival." Hircus stands in a modified parade rest careful not to touch anything that may be easily broken or soiled. "Who can I say we spoke to when we return to the Areska Stockyard, Miss...?"

Hircus is clearly ready to make his way back to the stockyard to finally rest for the day. He fears he is imposing on his friends and the day is beginning to catch up to him. Despite his weariness and anxiety for their situation, he maintains a smile.

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
Entrance Hall

The woman who opened the door—Ina instantly identifies her as the maid of the household—indicates a spot in the corner where the sacks from the stockyard should be placed among like packages. While not quite sumptuous, this entrance hall and long corridor are well-appointed, with upholstered chairs and heavy wood furniture. On sight alone, Ina has a good idea of the age and quality of these pieces. She can also see that they have not been well kept up. Better cared for are the dozens of portraits that adorn the walls. As you take in the decor, Ina, Hircus and Tegan notice that Moire has become transfixed by a portrait labeled "Pomuk Vallakovich, Heartsick for Glamour." Her eyes are glazed and her broad shoulders slumped forward as if in a stupor.

At this moment, a door on the right side of the long corridor creaks open. A dog growls from somewhere within and a giant of a man steps out into the hallway. Of the many imposing qualities of this man, the most dramatic, the thing you notice before all others, is his right arm, which can only be described as monstrous. Blackened and twisted, it hangs at his side, nearly twice as large as the opposite appendage. His shirt sleeve has been pushed back to accommodate the barbs that sprout from elbow to wrist,and capping it all off is a massive hand with long, talon-like fingers. Even if one could disregard this terrible limb, there would still be his heavy boots shaking the floor, the snarl of his mouth, and the glowering stare from beneath his broad, bald forehead.

"What is here?" the man demands as he looks at you all standing about the entrance hall. "More gifts for the festival, Mister Strazni, sir," answers the maid meekly. She points to the sacks you've brought.

"Hmph!" he grunts back, plodding into the room with you. "I will check. Do not leave," he commands, pointing at the four of you with one of his grotesque fingers. "You, close the door and back to preparations," he says to the maid, who complies with haste, giving you a fleeting glance as she hurries down the hallway.

This man Strazni seems to notice for the first time that Moire is still absorbed in the portrait of Pomuk Vallakovich and has not acknowledged his presence or commands. "What is wrong with her? A halfwit?" he asks. Not waiting for an answer, he hoists one of the sacks up onto a nearby table and begins unpacking its contents. Tegan notices that the action of bending and lifting the bag has caused something to poke out of the big man's rear pocket. It looks, for all Tegan can surmise, like the small leg of a doll.

Strazni is busy putting the offerings from the stockyard into piles. There are several lamps of different styles, a few tinderboxes, some torches, colored glass bottles, a pair of manacles, several pieces that Ina thinks are probably costume jewelry. All the while, Moire remains staring silently at the picture on the wall.

"You are not from here," he says without interrupting his inventory, "but now I see you. I watch the streets. Do not be making the people unhappy. The Baron hates unhappiness." He turns from the table to flash you a sneering mouthful of filthy, jagged teeth that might be his attempt at a smile before showing you his back once more.

"Oh yes," whispers Vanwandir in Tegan's ear, "I knew there was someone I was forgetting to mention. I just couldn't put my finger on it."

 

[ZombWie]

"She's had a trying day. A few minutes outside in the cool air will help her clear her head. If you will excuse us, Mister Strazni we must be going." Hircus moves toward Moire and says to her, "Come on Moire, let's head back to the stockyard and let them know that we did as they asked."

With one hand on her shoulder, Hircus attempts to maneuver the woman toward the door.

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
Entrance Hall

While Moire seems to register Hircus' words, she can only stammer in response and doesn't move. She'll have to be dragged out of here in her present state.

At Hircus' suggestion of stepping outside, Strazni whips around from the table where he's counting goods. "I said stay!" he shouts. "You leave only when I am done!" He clenches his outsized, twisted hand in front of himself and it begins to smolder with a pitch-like smell. Small flames trace his knuckles, then flare to engulf the entire fist. He stares at each of you for a moment, then shakes out the burning hand, extinguishing the flames, and turns his body back to the table, while keeping a sidelong glance focused on Hircus and Moire.

"Oh, Izek," comes an older, far more genteel male voice from the open door in the hallway, "what is going on out there?"

Strazni exhales in annoyance. "Only festival donations from the stockyard. Strangers to Vallaki bring them," he answers.

The owner of the genteel voices emerges from his room. He is human, perhaps in his fifties, with shoulder-length, matted gray hair that sprouts out in tufts. He wears a long red and yellow smoking jacket, and an enormous mastiff accompanies him into the hallway. His eyes light up at the sight of Hircus, Ina, Tegan and Moire, whose altered state does not seem to impress him in the least.

"These are newcomers, Izek, and not strangers for long," he chides, with a beamish smile. "It is wonderful to have new faces here to join us in our imminent celebration. You will love it, I promise. You certainly know in whose home you stand, but nonetheless, I shall introduce myself: Baron Vargas Vallakovich, Burgomaster of Vallaki. Please, join me in the den. It's so fortuitous you chose this evening to stop by, as I was just ruminating on some matters of philosophy that you might shed some light on as transplants to Barovia."

The Baron gestures warmly towards the open door that both he and Izek emerged from. The mastiff at his side issues a single sharp bark, its jowls shaking with saliva. "Sheba is pleased to meet you as well," translates the Baron.

Izek Strazni stews in apparent defeat.

Moire's Vision

Moire stands in the same entryway, but in a mansion that resembles the present one only in its basic structure. Almost everything else, the floors, walls, carpet, lighting, artwork is different, and much newer. Only some of the same pieces of furniture are present.

She is standing face to face with the person the portrait's placard identified as Pomuk Vallakovich. A good deal younger than Vargas, and combining the better features of male and female beauty, Burgomaster Pomuk regretfully tells Moire that, while they sympathized with the goals of Aurica Markovia, they cannot risk the safety of the people under their care.

"You cannot imagine the Devil's wrath if we defy him. It is not merely lives. No, those born with souls will have them torn apart and paraded before their loved ones. The tortures they will endure, that I must think of. This land is hard, yes, but it can be so much worse. I wish you and Markovia success, though I fear for you all. Know that you will always have a safe harbor here while I can provide it, but do not ask these people to join your fight."

The bark of a dog that is nowhere to be seen stirs Moire from her abstracted daze. Suddenly here are two men and a mastiff that were not present before, and the maid has vanished. Hircus stands at her side.

 

[jfish]

Ina glances around at the paintings, making notes of the discrepancy in care between them and the rest of the items. Careful not to get too close to this Strazni and his quite frankly terrifying hand, she quietly follows the Burgomaster through, making a note of the number of doors and subconsciously planning any escape routes. May as well make the most of it. On a better day she'd probably have tried to pocket something from the pile of offerings. Old habits die hard.

 

[ZombWie]

"It looks like I got us into more than a delivery job." He says quietly so just Moire can hear him then turns to the others and gives them an apologetic look. Louder, "Philosophy you say?" he eyes Ina and Tegan to see what they will do. Seeing Ina follow the Burgomaster's request, he does the same.

Before going through the door he presents the back of his hand to Sheba to allow her to get a sniff. "That's quite a dog you have there. I have been around many a war dog in my day. The Mastiff being one of the most impressive breeds for such a job." He looks the Baron in the eye with a warm smile. "Sheba is a sight to behold. I once knew a soldier who worked three great canines such as this. When he was taken in battle the dogs wouldn't even allow his comrades to approach the body. They are ferociously loyal and protective of their masters."

 

[Epiphany]

Moire at last stirs herself from her reverie. And finds the circumstances of her arrival changed. There's an expectation in the air, though, as she gazes at the strange man before glancing back at her companions. A moment later, she notices the giant of a man with the monstrous arm and takes a step back, visibly startled.

She missed the Burgomaster's name (as well as his title) so as they follow him into his mansion, the Paladin says "Sir, I'd like to take this opportunity to admire this fine town of yours. In dark times such as these, it's praiseworthy to see such a commitment to looking for the best of things. The people of Vallaki are blessed to have the care and consideration shown towards their happiness. Like the festival tomorrow. Is there anything about it you're particularly proud of?"

Another bit of hardwon wisdom from her piratical life; it was easy to get people to talk if you started with subjects they wanted to talk about. Which could serve the party well, given they knew nothing about tomorrow's festival. Especially why it required children...

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
The Den

Sheba lifts her massive head to give Hircus' hand a desultory sniff. The Baron beams with pride. "Yes, she is magnificent and loyal. As is her brother Parsht, whom you will meet shortly. As the world changes around us, these dogs are often our only true and faithful companions." Tegan leans in to praise and pet Sheba, and although she seems initially receptive, her mood takes a sudden turn as she smells something about him she dislikes. She barks repeatedly as Tegan draws his hand back just in time to avoid a snap from her heavy jaws. "Careful, my boy," warns the Baron. "Beautiful, but fierce."

"Hmmph!" grunts Vanwandir, still invisible on Tegan's shoulder.

Vallakovich's delight is only increased by Moire's approval of the town and his stewardship of its affairs. The Baron takes her by the arm and leads the way through the open door, with Sheba and Izek joining the five of you.

You enter a large den that clearly sees a lot of use. Threadbare tracks in the heavy rugs show Vallakovich's favored paths about this inner sanctum: winding among different groupings of plush sofas and chairs, over to a heavy desk strewn with papers, passing by the lone window, and circling the broad, waist-high table that supports a scale model of the entire town of Villaki. A second great mastiff, who can only be Parsht, watches, sphinxlike, from under this table. The walls of the den are decorated with assorted trophies and family heirlooms, the most dramatic a stuffed bear's head presiding over all.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," the Baron says, indicating the many seating options available. The furniture continues the old, worn precedent established elsewhere in the manor, with layers of staining to the upholstery and intersecting water rings on the tables. "So, tell me, Izek, who are my esteemed guests this evening? No, I don't suppose you asked their names. Tch, dear boy." Izek glowers silently at the four of you, presumably holding you accountable for his oversight and this scolding.

"I'm afraid you will have to make your own introductions, which you may now do," says the Baron, "And since Oskar, our butler, has apparently taken a few days off on his own initiative, Izek may polish his social graces by offering you refreshment." Izek visibly bristles at this, but moves over to a sideboard and scoops up a stack of chipped, nested glasses in his monstrous hand. With his more conventionally-proportioned appendage he selects a bottle of the same brandy that Urwin served Ina back at the Bluewater: Old Jax.

As you take your places, Izek begins making the rounds, stopping by Hircus first, and standing uncomfortably close as he pours out a few fingers of Old Jax and pushes the glass at the armored cleric. The spines of his gargantuan forearm are even more unsettling so near. In keeping with the canine theme already established, the bottle's printed label shows a mastiff with a small iconic barrel fastened around its neck.

 

[ZombWie]

"Thank you, Mr. Strazni. You wouldn't believe how ready for a drink I am." Hircus says, then quickly looks away from the man with the monstrous arm and to the Baron and asks, "Old Jax? That can't be a coincidence. Is this a family label? Are Sheba and Parsht descendants of Old Jax?"

After that Hircus moves to the table with the scale model of Villaki. He examines the town and tries to determine the route they took from the gate to the Blue Water to the Stockyard to the church and then finally to the Baron's residence. He gives an admiring *Hmm* as he looks at eye level through the streets of the town.

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
The Den

"Sir," the Baron says to Hircus, growing suddenly a tad peevish, "I will gladly discuss wine and hounds and festivals with you into the wee hours, but I would first know my interlocutor's name and a bit about him as well. You all know who I am, and my role as Burgomaster of this happy town. In this, you have me at a disadvantage; to me you are but four fresh faces in motley, who I can only assume were taken by the mists and found yourselves far from home in Barovia. Come, your names at once!"

The Baron speaks half in fun, but Izek seems to miss this nuance of tone and, slapping the undistributed glasses onto a side table, points his giant's index finger at Ina and bellows, "What is your name?" This outburst brings both big dogs to their feet, and the den suddenly feels quite a bit smaller. It all amuses the Baron to no end though; he laughs out loud before calming Izek and the hounds. With this done, he regards you all again. "But really, who are you people?"

 

[ZombWie]

"Please excuse me and my rudeness. I was not intentionally evading an introduction." Hircus stands up straight and in the process takes a small step away from Izek. Puffing out his chest he says, "Hircus Hornbrow. I am the son of Bran Hornbrow of the Waterdeep guard. I myself am a cleric of Torm, formerly in service to the Knights of Torm." With that Hircus gives a slow and steady bow of the head.

 

[Epiphany]

Moire smiles, charmed (or allowing herself to be charmed) by the Baron. She has a sense of the kind of man he is, and a sense of his circumstances now. His cordial manners are welcome enough, at least, courtly and not a bit unseemly.

"Thank you," she says, accepting the drink. "Please pardon our manners. The wolves we fought on the road clearly ran off with them. I am Moire Cassiel. My family isn't known to you and they are mostly dead now, for they and my homeland are well known for infamous deeds. Yet I sit before you a Paladin of Ilmater, the God of suffering and endurance, who cradles us all through our hardest times and sees us through. And a man who helps his people through difficult times, helps them to cherish what is good in life, is very much the sort of man Ilmater approves of. Be certain, sir, you will be in my prayers tonight."

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
The Den

"How wonderful!" the Baron proclaims. "These exotic foreign deities, we must honor them as visiting dignitaries to Barovia in some upcoming festival." He rushes over to his desk, takes up a quill and begins scribbling on a piece of parchment. "Let's see, next month is the Feast of the Bold, followed by Story Day of the Lost Ocean; but maybe we can fit something in after that. The two of you will consult. I envision a parade of people holding the cradles of Ilmater aloft—symbolic, of course. And I don't know what your boy Torm is all about, but we'll find a place for him too."

Izek uses the Baron's brainstorming interlude to distribute the remaining glasses of Old Jax. Putting the quill back in its holder, Baron Vallakovich looks to Ina and Tegan. "And you, the other half of this entourage, what gods will you bring to the festivities? To think how we've struggled by for so many generations with just Mother Night and the Morninglord."

 

[jfish]

Ina fixes Strazni with a glare when he shouts at her - though her hands clench into fists by her sides - then turns and inclines her head towards the Burgomaster, smiling thinly.

"I can only apologise as well - as you’ve rightly assumed this is our first day here, and we’re weary from our ...activities so far," she takes a deep breath and relaxes her hands, tracing the back of ond of the chairs and trying to work out whether his intentions are true, "Ina Hanali. I pledge myself to no...specific gods, but I strive to do the right thing. Where - uh - where I can." Her eyes flicker to Moire briefly, the guilt tickling her again at her recollection of their first meeting. Her eyes close briefly then flash open as she smiles encouragingly at the Burgomaster. "Are all of the festivals your doing, then? I’m afraid we missed the previous one, but I think I speak for all of us when I say we’d like to know more about the upcoming one?" She clumsily pulls out the bill she was handed earlier, "The uh, ‘Festival of the Blazing Sun’?"

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
The Den

"Doing the right thing indeed, Hanali. What more can any of us aspire to? Isn't that what all of our gods are shorthand for? It's what drives our celebrations and festivals. The first of them, last year's , was my personal innovation, but as their success grew, the Baroness lent a hand, bringing in her coterie of townswomen to lend their talents. And Izek's role has been invaluable. At this point, each holiday is really a collective effort of all loyal Vallakians, adult and child, planning, contributing, and participating in our fetes. Why, by this time next year I expect we'll be at one-hundred-percent compliance."

"You can see here," he says, gesturing to the model town, "the parade route for the Festival of the Blazing Sun, beginning at the church and proceeding to our town square, where a great wicker ball, representing the sun itself, will be illuminated for all to see. What witness will be able to deny the power of our delight at the Morninglord's eventual return?"

"Now we are not so vain as to think this burning sphere will actually call the Morninglord back. That is not the intention. There is a double meaning: the joyous light in our souls that shines forth. You see? Inside, outside."

The Baron's thoughts on this matter do not yet seem fully crystallized, but the model of Vallaki is quite impressive, parade or not. Individual buildings and trees have been lovingly crafted, and tiny surprises like miniature cats and pumpkins delight the inquisitive eye. Here is a minuscule pie resting on the sill of an open window. A number of the houses throughout the town have been marked with red pins.

Thirsty from this discussion of the festivals, the Baron calls for another glass of brandy, which in turn reminds him of Hircus' question about the label. "Ah," says Vargas, "I actually hadn't though of that connection. Funny. Is that you, Parst?" He waves the bottle in front of the mastiff now snoring below the model table.

"If there is a family resemblance, it's to Parst and Sheeba's forebears. The Wizard of Wines has been making Old Jax since before my great grandparents' day. It's one of their finest spirits. I've always seen the mastiff on the bottle as a symbol evocative of that warm, eternal bond between people and dogs—you know of what I speak, Hornbrow! But maybe that is Jax himself there on the bottle. Or perhaps Jax is the dog's master. I'm sure someone at the winery knows the answer to these riddles."

"And speaking of dog-lovers," he says, turning to Tegan, "who are you, sir, so bold as to court a 'love bite' from Sheba earlier?"

 

[TemplePhantom]

The voice in the back of Tegan's mind screams out for deception, urging him to not provide this noble man with any information. "Can't beat the classics, thanks grandad." Tegan thinks to himself as he decides on a persona.

"Before the damn mists took me I was a hunter of beasts for hire. The removal of all types of horrors and supernatural maladies is my family's legacy. Tegan Fiendsbane," he bows "of the renowned monster-slaying Fiendsbanes."

"A hound such as yours would make an excellent hunting companion. Do you breed them yourself?"

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
The Den

"A monster-hunter, how intriguing," says the Baron. "If you dare to venture back outside our walls, you'll certainly find many opportunities to exercise your talents. But it sounds like you've already discovered as much from what Cassiel has said."

"It was on one of my own excursions outside of the town that I adopted Parst and Sheba's parents as pups. I was younger and bolder then, not thinking what would become of my people if the Devil's creatures fell on me. The Vistani have always had an encampment beyond the walls, and it was there I bought the hounds, far better treasures than any of these old, inherited knickknacks."

"Have you met the Vistani? A happy people to be sure, but treacherous and not to be trusted. They call the tyrant we suffer under their beloved king, to whom they swear fealty. But there is something we could learn from them to be sure; they come and go as they please from this prison of a land. I think it was witnessing their carefree joie de vivre on that long-ago visit that planted the seed of our joyous celebrations in my mind. Even from the damned we may steal a secret or two, eh?"

"Related to sensibility, this favorite subject of mine—and this is the question to which I alluded earlier—when you think back on the moment you were taken by the mists and transported here, let's dismiss with where or when it happened. Instead, I ask you to consider your inner states. Weren't you really very sad then, I mean in the days and weeks before? Weren't your despondent souls fairly yearning to come home to this, the native country of their misery?"

He sits down at his desk with a self-satisfied expression, watching your responses to his theory.

 

[TemplePhantom]

Tegan raises an eyebrow and sips the Old Jax he was offered earlier.

"That seems an odd jump in logic. Perhaps the Vistani are so happy simply because they can come and go as they please. What reason do you have to think that personal emotions would grant such abilities?"

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
The Den

The Baron grins and wags a finger at Tegan. "Ah, but I've thought of that. I spent most of my life believing as you say. It's only in these last couple of years that I've seen the truth of our condition."

"Barovia appears to be a geographic place. After all, you traveled here through the mists. But I ask you, is there such a Barovia where you come from? The answer is no. You think you traveled to another country, or even a different world? I say you traveled differently, through feeling into the darker emotions—dread, melancholy, grief. It is nothing to be ashamed of. We native Barovians have known nothing else for generations."

"It is in this dark place where the Devil may torment us as he pleases. Those who try to travel through the mists to escape through space, they are rebuffed and return choking and gasping for air. But maybe that is not the way to go. For the Vistani, maybe yes. For the rest of us, we must travel through feeling, back to that sunny land where the Morninglord will rejoice in our return."

"But we cannot travel there each by themself. We must go together. That is the reason for the festivals. If all can achieve the proper mood as one, you will see this entire town transported away from this hell to its proper place."

"The last barrier, of course, is those human anchors who mire us in the shoals of unhappiness, but with time, and..."

A gentle rapping on the open door of the den interrupts the Baron's talk. A tall woman whose elegant gown matches the palette of the Baron's wardrobe is standing there, regarding you all with a broad, affected smile. "I'm sorry dear, I didn't realize you had company. The Borisoviches and Yakoviches will be here soon. Remember our engagement?" As if to emphasize the time that has passed here, church bells ring in the distance outside.

"Yes, love, of course. The time got away from me conversing with these new arrivals to Barovia." He introduces each of you to Baroness Lydia Petrovna, who expresses great happiness at making your acquaintance. "Well," he says, "I am afraid I must excuse myself. Please, finish your drinks. Izek will see you out. Oh! But you must return to join us for our midday meal tomorrow, before the festival!"

"Yes!" says the Baroness, "Please do come. My friends will be thrilled to meet you all."

The noble couple departs, leaving you alone in the den with Izek Strazni, who mutters under his breath and cracks the knuckles of his smaller hand. Still invisible, Vanwandir makes bread impatiently on Tegan's shoulder.

 

[Epiphany]

As the Paladin sits and holds her drink, something of the feeling she'd had before seeps back over her. A feeling of displacement, of having been here, remembering when the place was newer and she'd come with a cause much more urgent. Perhaps it was the trappings of this place. Not just that time had passed but it hadn't passed well. The Baron, for all his manners, seemed disinterested in his home and its upkeep. At least compared to his fondness for his dogs.

The only other thing the Baron seemed enthusiastic about was his festivals.

"We did meet the Vistani," Moire says slowly. "Though they said nothing much of a king or a tyrant. I would trouble you further on that subject, my Lord. But you asked a question so let's settle the answer first."

"The truth is, I don't rightly know. To be honest, I have a hard time recollecting exactly where I was or what I was doing before I found myself here with my friends." There's just a trace of hesitation to that description, for though her heart tells her these are worthy companions she trusts with her life, her mind is no better at accounting for how she knows them than where she'd been before all this. "I am no stranger to despondency or misery, though, my Lord. No Paladin of Ilmater is. Those are eternal issues we wrestle with. My faith, my calling is to help people in their struggle, to serve as an example of how to persevere through hardship until we reach a place of happiness for each of us."

"May my calling be of use to you and your people, my Lord."

Moire listens intently to what the Baron wishes to share over the course of their conversation. The arrival of the Baroness forestalls more necessary conversation, at least for now. There was always tomorrow. So Moire rises from her seat, gives a bow to the Baron and another to the Baroness on their way out before returning to her seat.

Ready to leave once her companions have finished their drinks, Moire gazes curiously at Izek. "Thank you for humoring us, sir. While we finish up and see ourselves out, would you indulge my curiosity? What is the name of this Devil that troubles Barovia? What is he to it and its people? What is he to you?"

 

[Baba Luga]

The Baron's Mansion
The Den

Baron Vallakovich nods and smiles as Moire describes the precepts of Ilmater. He picks up his quill again to jot down more notes for a possible festival.

With the Baron and Baroness gone, Izek Strazni considers Moire's questions. From where he stands in the doorway, manipulating a large ring of keys, he leans back a bit to look down the hall, then back at you. "We do not say his name here. Go ask them at Barovia Village or Krezk. Or wait until he finds you himself. All strangers he finds sooner or later. You are his special playthings. He will break you one by one and then you will die. Then all will carry on as before."

"Now you may leave." He steps back into the hallway and gestures to his right. "There is no need to return to dine tomorrow. The Baron is an important man, but polite too. Your absence will not be missed."

Vanwandir whispers to Tegan, "Interesting how Loopanom has already forgotten the information I shared. As I well told her, the name she seeks is Sachramenadies, The Powdered Lover. I foresee an inevitable juncture where you and I will need to take the rudder of this drifting craft, Bag of Peaches, before everything goes completely widdershins."