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Party 10

Abrahms

One Thousand Club
???:

Life has a strange way of working things out, solving problems you never even knew were going to be a concern. Unsure where your next meal was going to come from? Well, some bloke down the street needs a basement cleared of rats and is willing to pay in copper for each one removed. Where are you going to sleep tonight? A stable a block over is reporting it's haunted, if you deal with it, the stablemaster will let you stay in the loft, out of the rain.

Here and there, things have worked out for better or worse across your individual lives, yet something has always felt as if it was waiting just beyond the next horizon, perhaps preparing you, perhaps merely toying with you, always out of reach. At least at some point you weren't alone in trying to figure out what that strange thing was, that driving force that taunted each of you everyday, an unspoken desire to go ... somewhere. But where? Even if offered a map, you wouldn't know where to point or even a general direction.

Banding together as a group, sharing the same unspoken restlessness, you've been moderately successful in your endeavors, collecting a small amount of renown in the town of Daggerford where you found yourselves staring at a poster that requested aid in dealing with werewolves.

"Werewolves in the mist!" You've heard these dreaded words spoken again and again by farmers, merchants, and adventurers alike as you've traveled the local area. The hamlets east of Daggerford have fallen prey to a pack of werewolves that spills out of the Misty Forest on nights of the full moon, cloaked in crawling mist that seems to follow them wherever they go. The beasts spread death and mayhem, slaughtering adults and stealing children before retreating back into the woods. Others have tried to combat the werewolf menace, with little success. Thus where your group comes in, hopefully, where others have failed. The local blacksmith offered aid in silvering one weapon before the group left, and an ex-adventurer who believed in the group offered an old scroll of Remove Curse, commenting he was fairly sure it would still work. Fairly sure.

Preparing supplies and following the tracks left behind either physically or from claims and witnesses of the mist-cloaked werewolves, you all head out early in the day, expecting to catch the beasts unaware and weakened in the daylight, yet the further you head into the woods the darker it seems to get. Almost too quickly, even for being a forest where treetops and branches soon blot out the sky. Trees seem to become more imposing and menacing, sounds of the woods slowly fade away as the area grows quiet and almost ... dare one think it, deathly still, the only sound your footsteps, your breathing, the rustle of armor and gear from your movements ... Your breath starts to hover in the air before you, a faint shiver -- how can it be so cold? It was a pleasant spring day before, and now a thick mist surrounds your vision, making it difficult to tell which direction you're going -- which way did you even come? Have you all just been wandering in circles? For how long? Hours? Or mere minutes?

Finally a new noise -- the sound of a crunch ... a dirt road leading on-wards through the mist sits before you all ...



 

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New Member
Standing on the dirt path, Daermir glance around looking at the trees and mist all surrounding him and his friends. He eyes the path in both directions, noting if there is any differences with the path from either direction. Crouching down he grabs a bit of the dirt path in his hand before letting it fall back to the ground. Standing back up, he looks ahead into the mist, blocking the view of whatever is in-front on them along the path.
"Werewolves they say, shouldn't be too bad, just a bunch of wolves except tougher."
Bring his arms closer to his body, he shivers as his breath is caught in the air.
"The mist is the most annoying part of this adventure. I am not ready for this cold."
Looking back at his friends.
"If anyone else got any other ideals, may as well see what down this path."
 

Hellequin

Magic Eight Ball
Bronwyn's usually keen gaze surveys the road, trying to peek as much as she can through the mist to be ready for a potential ambush. "Werewolves are powerful, do not underestimate them, Daermir. We should be quiet, they have the senses of wolves and the intellect of men," she whispers to the others, hand resting on the hilt of the silvered shortsword.
 

Theseiroth

Nindrol Blakwyrm/Lecuis Musiker/Dagger
Watching the mist roll by Wyrm listened to the others as he took in the mist. Whatever this place was, it wasn't where they expected to be. Listening to the others he pointed down the path, "I think I saw something, we should keep moving and watch for trouble."
 

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Glancing over at Bronwyn, he shakes his head.
"I don't see how werewolves can have the intellect of men. We are most likely just fighting wolves but on two legs. Besides, if they were intelligent, why have they purposely come in conflict with the local people? Humans and dwarfs can work together. Why can't humans and their wolf-versions be friends? Seems like a powerful duo." Giving himself a low belly laughter. He fixes his posture to a hunch down position. Ready to either run or to try and sneak. Although if he were to be honest with himself. Sneaking isn't exactly something he can do. He may need to learn to have to sneak in the future, but for now he hasn't really needed to do so.
"I wonder if they have the same bite of a normal wolf, or if they are stronger." Holding up his right arm, he smiles at the faded but still visible bite mark on his right arm. "Dam thing changed my life, now I get to meet it's humanoid version." Pinching his nose he continues on "In all serious though, there really isn't a point of trying to be quite if we walk down the path, it's like a beacon in a dimly lit cave. Maybe if we are some distance away from the path and follow it, keeping it to our right or left and making sure we can see it at all times. Eh, I could act as bait and walk straight down the path while you three follow from the side, keeping yourself unseen and unheard. I could try being sneaking, but I would honestly walk straight into a hole and land face-first."
 

Abrahms

One Thousand Club
???:

Continuing down the path, footsteps crunching on the gravel that's scattered from the main road, a few in the party twitch this way and that, convinced there's something moving just on the edge of their vision yet nothing seems to be there as they continue. Travel is hard to track in this place, light doesn't seem to shift and nothing stands out as a sure landmark of distance, however at one point a voice calls out from around you all:

"Lower your weapons if you don't wish to die."
 

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Freezing for a second, Daermir lets out a small chuckle after processing that what he is hearing is actual voices.
"I was not expecting to hear another speaking voice until we got back to the village. Scared me a bit. I was expecting an animal howl, not a voice."
Resting his Maul over his shoulder he looks around once more, not finding anything but trees and mist.
"Look, I can appreciate that you don't wish to be harmed, but these woods are dangerous. Last thing we need is to lower our weapons and then get jumped on. I can barely see what's in-front of me. Besides, we are hunting ruthless animals, not people. We mean no harm."
 

Abrahms

One Thousand Club
???:

There's silence for a few moments until a man steps forward, bow still half-drawn. He appears human, but gaunt as if it's been a long time since he's had consistently good food, but his equipment looks well maintained and designed to blend in with the misty forest you all find yourselves in. He studies the group, noting the varied races, before looking back at the dwarf, "What animals do you hunt? For unfortunately we hunt people -- one has gone missing from town. Have you met anyone else around here?"
 

Hellequin

Magic Eight Ball
"We haven't, no. Did one of your people get taken? Or do you mean to bring them to justice?" Brownyn speaks up, watching this archer carefully.
 

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Glancing back hellequin before looking back at the man.
"As she said, we have encountered no one in this forest. Why you think I was surprise to hear voices? It's like, nothing is alive in this forest."
Looking around in the forest, seeing nothing but trees and mist, he continuous on.
"How many of you are there anyway? I can't see anyone else here, and yet you talk as if you are the voice of a group. You mention we hunt people. Yet who is we?"
 

Abrahms

One Thousand Club
???:

Still with his bow half-drawn, the man pauses, eventually making a low whistle as two others step out from the mists, their own bows held at the ready. Placing a hand on his chest, the first one speaks: "I am Alek Cantemir, of Barovia. These are my friends, Hans and Vasily who are helping me to track one who went missing while attempting to gather firewood. These woods are dangerous, you're lucky you've been unharmed so far."

Taking another look across the party, Alek adds, "However, I doubt you have been here long, your arrival would have been commented on already."
 

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Placing the head of the maul on the ground. He rest his right hand on top of the handle. He extends his left hand out.
"Names Daermir Farren. Like my friends here, we are all adventurers."
Gesturing towards his friends.
"My friends are, Bronwyn, Nindrol and Duck. We have heard that these are troubling times for the local people. Cries of werewolf have gone up. We are here to see for ourselves and help deal with this problem."
 

Hellequin

Magic Eight Ball
"If your friend is missing, perhaps he ran into these werewolves" Bronwyn speaks up in her quiet voice, "It could help if we combine our efforts and search together?"
 

heylookitsme

I SEE YOU
Hearing Sunduako's most common nickname get called out, yanks him from the riptide his own thoughts had him in. Maybe he was nervous, or anxious; he couldn't be completely sure which. Whichever it was, it interrupted his usual demeanor. His ever-present rottweiler smile, of what could easily be hundreds of seemingly razor-sharp teeth of varying sizes and even sometimes shapes, that could light up a room better than a overfilled and recently exploded lantern was uncharacteristically absent. His tail was almost completely motionless, lowered, but keeping itself off the ground, like an arm held to his side. He usually didn't have these kinds of conflicts in his day-to-day life, he didn't lead an especially hazardous one, which is part of why his clothing can stay as bright of a white as it is. His silver shield's more of a status symbol than it is anything else, though instead of a request for admiration from the world around him like wearing a massive golden chain around your neck, this is more of a billboard for his goddess of beauty. His left hand would occasionally go to and from the shield, spending some of its time there, tracing the reliefs, to fiddling with the heavy fabric of his cowl, sometimes drifting upwards, following his jaw, drifting towards his neck, to the couple of strands of hair that are loose from the rest, making their way to the base of the horns, like an argali's, near the back center of his head, finishing the circuit when his pinky bumps into the bison-like horns near his temples. He felt compelled to hum here and there, and would, for a few notes, before his gaze would quickly shift left and right to his companions, and for fear of ruining their stealthy hunt, pulls himself out of it.
When conversation was shifting to men and beasts and combinations of the two, he was deeply conflicted, momentarily, only for his general philosophy, subconsciously known or unknown as it might be to him. What if these people aren't evil and bloosucking abominations of wolf and human? Or, what if they're just people who are afflicted by external forces? Well, in that case they should be rational and reasonable, right? Maybe not completely in their right minds, but reasonable, right? We've dealt with unreasonable people before, we can do it again.

He partly snaps out of that train of thought when the man stops them all, then completely when named.
"Oh, hello friend." It's his usual greeting.
"Luckily for me, I don't have a weapon to lower." He gives what could have been interpreted as an almost defiant smirk, had it been anyone else, but his face has no such visually expressive lexicon. It's almost like his eyebrows don't even exist, they're that underused.


Bronwyn's proposal, he's very on-board for. "I agree with her, nothing lightens a load and builds trust like teamwork! And what nicer way to start a new alliance than with a little favor done for charge at all?" He gives a nice big grin that closes his eyes.
 

Theseiroth

Nindrol Blakwyrm/Lecuis Musiker/Dagger
"Wait, wait wait, go back to thee 'your arrival would been commented on' part. What do you mean?" Something in the way that was said worried Wyrm. He continued to scan for trouble as he listened, both for signs of the werewolves, and for the answer.
 

Abrahms

One Thousand Club
???:

The three hunters shared a look, Alek turning back to speak: "We've not sent word of werewolves?" He shook his head, "... but perhaps they slipped through the mists to hunt. If you're all truly as 'good hearted' as you seem, perhaps it would do well to join forces."

Alek tested his bow string at Wyrm's question, giving the half-elf a look almost akin of, "do I really need to answer that?" The man gestured towards the party then his own hunting group, "A winged devil, a forest elf, a half-blood, and dwarven-kind. You'll be hard pressed to find similar here unless they are your own kin."

Hans and Vasily disappeared back into the mists as Alek looked ready to continue, "Aid us if you wish -- otherwise, follow this road, and do not stray. Barovia proper will greet you on the other end."
 

Theseiroth

Nindrol Blakwyrm/Lecuis Musiker/Dagger
"well that's not very nice, but I'm all about making friends, I'll aid you." Wyrm says with a smile, he places a hand on his chest and says an incantation. As soft glow covers him and fades he stretches his limbs "Feels about right, anyone else care to come?"
 

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Picking up his maul again, he looks over at Wyrm.
"I am all for making friends, but I don't trust this lot. They are people hunters, they claim to be tracking a man who went missing from the local area. Why track a man that should be dead? Werewolves are out here, the farmers have told us that they kill people, and we are walking in their home. If this man ran into these woods and never came back. His dead, if I was a monster and a human came into my home, I would kill them. So why track a dead man?"
Looking down the path forward. He closes his eyes for a moment before continuing on.
"Unless someone else has any ideals, we may as well continue down this path and see what's Barovia about."
 

Theseiroth

Nindrol Blakwyrm/Lecuis Musiker/Dagger
"Daermir, were here to hunt werewolves, and they say this path leads to a town. I don't think we will find our prey in the town but if we go with them, we may be lucky in finding their farmer and our beasts at the se time" Wyrm says with a slight shake of his head. He agreed that the farmer these people where looking for was most likely dead, but he also liked the idea of a few extra hands should the werewolves mange to sneak up on them in the fog, which seemed highly possible. "What say you two?"
 

Hellequin

Magic Eight Ball
"Extra bodies wouldn't hurt, and they know this area around us better than we do. Perhaps we should stick with them, at least for now?"
 

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"If the beast we sought for was in town, it would already be dead. No point hunting a dead beast. Bronwyn does have a fair point. They know more about this area then we do. I think the general consensus then is that we follow them in town and see how it goes from there. I still don't trust then, but that doesn't mean we can't cooperate."
Hauling his maul back over his right shoulder.
"Keeps your eyes open. We aren't safe until we are out of this forest."
Looking back at his friends, he then starts to march forward in the center of the path. Leading the way in the direction that was directed by Alek.
 

Theseiroth

Nindrol Blakwyrm/Lecuis Musiker/Dagger
"Actually, you may be right. Knowing is half the battle. And we could always use more knowledge." Wyrm says nodding his head. He pulled out his staff and tapped the top of Daermir's maul saying "Boop" and the maul began to shed light
 

Abrahms

One Thousand Club
???:

Splitting from the hunters and deciding to follow the road before them, the party continues through the mist. Strangely, staying on the path seems to give a more solid sense of distance. Towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave, yet exude the feeling of an unvoiced scream.

Continuing, eventually Bronwyn catches the scent of death in the air.

If the group move to investigate, the foul scent leads them to a human corpse half-buried in the underbrush about fifteen feet from the road. The young man appears to be a commoner. His muddy clothes are torn and raked with claw marks. Crows have been at the body, which is surrounded by paw prints. The man has obviously been dead for several days. He holds a crumpled envelope in one hand.
 

Theseiroth

Nindrol Blakwyrm/Lecuis Musiker/Dagger
"Poor bastard, he says his daughter caught Vampyrism and that it's hopeless. It warms to leave the valley" Wyrm sighs heavily as he fold the letter to put in his pocket. He lifts the body and turns to the others, "We should take him to a religious site for rites and burial. Maybe they can give us more info."
 

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Shaking his head, he places his left hand on the shoulder of Wyrm.
"Now isn't the time nor place. Under a normal situation, I would let you do as you will. Rites and burials are none of my business, but right now, we are in unwelcome lands. This forest wants us gone."
He examines the ground where the body laid before looking down the road towards Barovia. In a sarcastic mimicking tone, he continuous on.
"A warm welcome to Barovia..." Switching back to his normal deep grounded voice "Ha, the more I learn, the less I trust that lot."
Looking back at Wyrm. "I won't stop you from bringing the body to Barovia in hopes of finding a religious site, but I wouldn't get my hopes up. We are dealing with a town of Vampyr in the middle of a werewolf infested forest."
 
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