Party 16

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Astryos' eye brows furrow at the mention of souls not being able to go far, "What do you mean their souls can not go far in this land? What land is this? Who is this cursed Lord you speak of?"
 
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Cassandra sits quietly and pokes at her stew as it is brought to the group. She inspects it thoroughly, and partakes slowly, careful to leave the pieces of meat behind. There were times in her life the half elf would have eaten just about anything in front of her, met or otherwise...but the habits formed from her time with Master Quarion did not go away easily.
We are privileged as beings that can survive in this world with minimal destruction of life, she had heard the old elf say once, It is a gift that more ought to take graciously. Regardless, that which she does eat tastes delicious, in a way only hunger can flavor.
Cassandra listens as the Abbot speaks. She struggled to keep up with what he said at times, his language was...eccentric to say the least. But some of the words he spoke of...they seemed familiar.
Where have I heard this? she wonders. She wracks her brain, until she remembers: On the road, it had been something Master Quarion had been discussing. Not with her, but she often couldn't help but overhear. ...this is...something about how dead things become undead.
A knot forms in her now filled stomach. She remembers the card that Faria drew. Is the meaning so literal? Is he some kind of necromancer? She frowns for a moment. Or is he trying to prevent it? Times like these she wishes she had stayed with her teacher longer, had learned more. Clueless as always.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Abbot, but you're saying something about treating unstable forms? Departing souls? What exactly is keeping them from departing?"
 
"I apologize. I speak in abstract terms, though I begin to see the true extent of the loss that has befallen you. Here, I thought, are creatures stunned to have died one moment and come back the next. But I see something far more profound is at work if you don't recall even the name of this land. And so, I recommence with fundamentals, while Varius ponders the impending operation."

"If we were to venture out that door across the office and look out from the abbey's parapet, we would see before us the mist-shrouded valley of Barovia. That, my friends, is the land. A small parcel, less than two dozen miles across, eternally trapped. A prison built for one man, but with an ever-growing multitude of casualties held hostage in his wake. Long ago, I came to help those innocents, knowing that I too might become trapped here, as I have."

"In the normal course of events, when a being with a soul dies, that soul may pass through Kelemvor's gates, once the body that was its vessel has stablizied—become nothing more than an object. Until then, as the body still changes and transforms, the soul may become confused and fancy itself still an occupent of the broken corpse. This is how we have the undead. But this is not the issue at hand. In cursed Barovia, the souls that would depart are trapped by the mists, and circle back into the bodies of the newly born, prisoners by birth. It is madness. Souls were not made for such ceaseless rehabitation. Their suffering is unimaginable. And all the while, the Prisoner for whom this gaol was built thrashes against his chains, increasing the suffering of all the inmates."

"As much as the notion might repel us, none can be free until the Prisoner is redeemed and liberated. That will be the pinnacle of my work here, for which the perfection of the Washems is but a preliminary. And I begin to think that one of the gods has sent you four, with your unsullied minds, to aid me in this task: The redemption of Count Strahd von Zarovich."
 
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Varius looks over the arms as The Abbot speaks, not really paying much attention to the conversation. He picks each one up in turn, looking it over, before setting it down and moving to the next. Having examined them all in turn, he returns to the arm that looks human, seeming to favour familiarity over anything else. However, before he can pick it up again, The Abbot mentions the name Strahd von Zarovich. Glancing at The Abbot, followed by a brief look over at Cassandra, he pulls his arm back, looking over the options once more, before picking up the large, bestial arm.
"I've made my choice."
 
As Cassandra hears the name of Strahd, she stumbles back, everything seeming to blacken around her. Strahd. Strahd. The name resonates through her, like a bell, tolling a dark and foreboding sound.
And then the vision came.
It hit her like a hammer. When it passed, she is left gasping. She clutches her sides, still feeling the crushing weight on her sides. She can still hear the whispering in her ear. She feels the room tightening around her, like the arms around her rib cage. Her breathing quickens. She feels the weight of eyes on her, perhaps one of the others? Or is it him? The room barely feels real anymore, no more real than the field the were in, the tunnels...any moment she expects the scene to be swept away, pulled open like the false face the old woman had worn. And then he will be waiting.
Out...I need out.
Wordlessly, she makes her way out of the room, trying to control her breathing, and wanders into the nearest room. She finds herself back in the room with the broken furniture. She waits there, waiting for the dread to pass. Though while the vice against her bones subsides, the voice still repeats in her mind.
...they will all die because you were careless.
 
At the mention of Strahd's name Astryos seems to stare off into the middle distance as if he were remembering something. He jumps with a start, the way one does from a slumber when they dream that they are falling. The life returns to his eyes and he takes a deep breath.

"Abbot," he asks, believing he already knows the answer to his question, "Have there been others sent here by the Gods that have pitched battle with..." Strahd's name catches in his throat, ..."the Count?" he eeks out.
 
"Those who know the gods would say Beshaba, rather than Tymora, captains the ship to Barovia. Others arrive, yes; some have visited us here at the abbey over the years. Most perish quickly. The ones who endure only do so because they amuse the Count for a time. Then they too are obliterated, or become his creatures."

"Only once in several generation do we see a true would-be hero rally the folk in true opposition to Strahd, and it ends the same. One such came to us this last year, but never traveled this way before taking the fight to von Zarovich. They might have heard of him in the places to the east of here. He did fail. After centuries in his cell, the Count has become one with the valley; I am convinced none can defeat him in this place."

"Your arrival, however, it was a most unconventional method. I will have to think more on what it means. All others arrive by the mists, with their memories intact."

"Oh, good, you've chosen," He says to Varius. "Please remove your shirt and lie down on the table. Bella will take it. The rest of you may wait in the office, or if you wish to observe, please stay in the doorway to avoid crowding us while we work."
 
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Bowing, Astryos takes his leave but stops in the doorway to watch when he realizes everyone else was staying Probably best to keep an eye on things. See that they're on the up and up.
 
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Faria listens absorbing the information that she can until she is hit with another memory. She is at once surprised by the intimate gesture and questioning of her role in the vision. There wasn't enough information, had she been a double agent to bring down this Markovia? Had she been a servant of the count? She wasn't so sure, for in the moment of the memory it was clear the count had been no threat to her, and she had trusted him. Charms were hard to work on her kind so it was unlikely that she had been entranced. 'I'll need to learn more of course, since they dug my body up here, it might be that the survivors of whatever happened had sentenced her to death here. Astryos had been there... do I need to watch out for him?'

"I see. This Count Strahd is trapped, and must be free'd from this land? I'm not entirely sure how one could be trapped so but many subjects are beyond me, and when Magic is involved it becomes even more so," said Faria as she hisses under her breath and makes a counter sign at the mention of Beshaba. "Invoking her name invites misfortune."

"It also sounds like we cannot move on if we die again unless he is free'd as well so that does sound like a good goal though the act of saving someone sounds like a complex thing to do, especially when they aren't asking to be helped. Back in Daggerfall's many of the nobles wouldn't give peasents the time of day, and though I was in the town's defense force, it only afforded me only a modicum of influence to have them listen... are you on speaking terms with the Count if that is your plan? I'd offer my assistance in your plan but I think me and my companions need to get our bearings first," says Faria looking at Astryos as he takes his leave. As much as she didn't want people to start splitting up she knew she'd probably need to stay with Varius to make sure Sharath didn't end up modifying him any further.
 
Varius drops the arm back on the table before struggling with his shirt, eventually managing to pull it off with his singular arm and drop it to the floor. Lying back on the table, he shuts his eyes, not really wanting to watch what was about to happen, waiting impatiently for this whole ordeal to be over.
"Well, go on. Get on with it."
 
Bella holds pungent herbs and smoking incenses to Varius' nostrils, making him lightheaded and disoriented. His limbs begin to tingle and then grow numb. He feels only pulling sensations and hears cutting noises. The Abbot mutters to himself in an unfamiliar language as he places the monstrous arm against Varius' shoulder.

It's difficult to see exactly what's going on from the doorway; the Abbot's tall form blocks the site where the new arm is to be attached. The entire operation takes perhaps a half hour, during which time the Abbot often stands still with his eyes closed, chanting intently. At other times he nods or frowns as his long fingers press at different points along Varius' body.

Bella assists the Abbot by bringing him tools and mysterious substances. A few times during the course of the operation she places her pawlike hand against his back for a few moments and chants in unison with him.

When the Abbot and Bella finally step away from Varius, and his sensations return to normal, there is no seam between his shoulder and the new arm. There is no pain either; the new arm feels strong and agile.

abbey-seal.jpg"There," sighs the Abbot. "You are restored. Now I will rest, but first, let me make you that letter." He passes those of you observing from the doorway and sits down at the big desk in the office. Bella offers to assist Varius getting up off the table.

The Abbot takes a blank sheet of parchment, a quill and an inkwell and writes out a lengthy note, which he closes with a wax seal in the shape of the rising sun. "Here." He places it at the corner of the desk. "Present this to Dmitri Krezkov, the Burgomaster of the village below, and he will give you whatever assistance he can. If anyone knows you there, he can find them. I see, without question, that you are nearly naked as babes in the wood, in which state I do not intend to send you out into the world. Bella, show them the shed please. Let them have what they need."

"Learn what you can in Krezk, and come back when you are ready to join our work healing the land." He takes a large book from one of the desk's drawers, opens it to a marked page near the middle, and begins scribbling with his quill. Bella waits for you at the top of the stairs, cocking her head from side to side.
 
Varius sits up, examining his new arm. He stretches his fingers out, then clenches them in a fist, repeating the motion a few times before slamming his fist into the table beside him. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he was testing, Varius stands up off the table, picking his shirt up off the floor and putting it back on. He frowns, reaches up, and rips the right sleeve off, revealing the bestial arm up to the shoulder. Smoothing the fur down, he looks at whoever decided to wait in the room, then turns to follow Bella.
 
His emerald eyes grow wide with astonishment as he witnesses the the light from the Abbot and as he observes the behavior of the shadows in the room. Watching in silent awe. As the Abbot finishes up and leaves for office, Astryos follows, "Abbot, what power do you possess that causes the shadows to retreat in such a...swirling, fasion?"
 
The Abbot turns and looks at Astryos with a furrowed brow. "I'm not sure..." Then he smiles and nods. "Ah, you speak in metaphor, though I'm humbled to admit I cannot fathom what you mean by 'swirling'. Anyone could learn to do as I do. It's just a matter of dedicating the time and practice. If you wished, you could stay here with me and study these techniques. Given a dozen years, I'm confident you'd have the fundamentals firmly in your grasp."
 
Faria watches with silent interest, but whatever the Abbot did was far beyond what she knew in regards to the world. Magic was a force she only dabbled with. 'Are we really such puppets that one can easily remove and reattach pieces to form our bodies?' wondered Faria as a slight shiver went down her back. She takes Sharath's letter off the desk taking a look at it for a moment before opening the mess kit she was still carrying for storage and then looked to Sharath. "Anything you can spare will be greatly appreciated. Not having a pack is a commodity not often noticed until you are without one. I promise to return to hear more of this... plan of yours."

Following the others out the door with Bella, she kept an eye out for Cassandra and would wave to her to follow them if she saw her on the way to the shed.
 
"A few dozen years..." the monk says under his breath, "Perhaps if this land catches my fancy. I feel I could learn much from you, Abbot."

He lithely walks, following Faria and Bella, "It is quite the commodity, isn't it? I had never given it much thought. The Monastary was always there to provide. And here we are, in a strange land, in what I presume to be some sort of Monastary, and the Monastary provides even here. To strangers, no less!" Smiling at the hospitality, Astryos turns his attention to Bella, "Bella, if you don't mind my asking. How long have you served the Abbot? How did you come to be in his service? Were the parts of you which are now beastial once human?"
 
Bella leads the way down the staircase and pushes open the door at the bottom. The squawking, braying and barking from beyond is instantly louder. She takes you around the corner into a dark room with a long hallways leading off as far as you can see, with barred doors lining both sides. These cells are clearly the source of the cacophony. "Be patient, lunchtime soon, Washems!" Bella squawks.

Following her, you pass the noisy hallway and come to a sort of foyer, likewise dark. A massive human man, maybe seven feet tall, is slumped in one corner with his knees up and his head in his hands. "Arback," says Bella, pointing to the man as you pass him. He looks up at you with a dull, irregular face, clean-shaven on one side and full of rough stubble on the other. Bella grips Astryos' hand with her talon and takes him towards a heavy door that, when opened, lets in light that is blinding after being in the dark for the past few minutes.

The door opens to a broad, walled courtyard connecting the "East Wing" you were just in with a another two-story building with a bell tower across the way. It's chilly here and there are patches of snow on the ground. A gatehouse to your right guards the way out of the compound. A moment of inspection reveals that what first appear to be several guards peering down at your from the curtain wall all around, are in fact straw dummies.

Out here in the foggy air, Bella pauses to breathe deeply. "This has been Bella's home always. Born here, grew up here, started to study with the Abbott. I'll be eighty in a few months, so still very young. Much more to learn from the Abbott."

When Astryos asks about Bella's human and bestial parts, she laughs with an avian trill. "No, this is all Bella! As I was born. I am an elf, like you, but thanks to the Abbot, my true self shows out, not all the same same. My parents' generation, they couldn't have children, until the Abbot came and made them better, and then even better than that! The rest of the elves though, they didn't want help from the Abbot, and so they all look the same and never have any babies. So sad. We Washems are the true elves now."

"But the Abbot said to show you the shed so you can have some more clothes and things. This way." She starts taking you on a path that goes past the well at the center of the courtyard and towards the large doors that lead outside.
 
As they walk, Varius falls to the back of the group, saying nothing, but listening carefully, and is frequently checking over his shoulder, as if making sure nobody was following them. Anyone who bothers looking backwards notices Varius looks visibly uneasy, and his hands keep drifting to his belt, where his weapons would be if he had them on him.
 
In....out....in....

Cassandra has been at this for a while. Meditation was never a strength of hers, but in this instance she sees it as worth a try. She is discordant, her mind to busy reeling from visions of some other time and place. Visions that might not even be true.

That she hopes are not true.

But for now she sits in the room of broken things, steadying her breath and focusing inward. Overtime, the images begin to recede to the back of her mind. Eventually, the breathing becomes natural, not forced. She opens her eyes and gets to her feet. Better...now where did everyone else go?

She peers out from the room seeing the others on the move, following the strange looking woman. ...Bella, I think? Cassandra remembers. Not wanting to be left behind, she quietly moves to catch up with the group, taking a spot next to Varius. She sees his new arm, surprised at the lack of seem. Then she sees his posture, his expression. He looks geared up for a fight.

"...hey, are you doing ok?" she asks the warrior quietly.
 
Varius looks at Bella, mashing sure she is out of earshot, then glances back over his shoulder before speaking in a low voice, as if worried about being overheard.
"The sooner we get out of here, the better. I don't trust this Abbott character."
 
His eyes wander about their surroundings as Bella guides them to shed. As they pass the well he notices a furry head pop up above the rim. The elf stops in his tracks, pointing at the well, "Bella, what was that I just saw? I fear you may have a contamination in your well." He begins to walk towards the well slowly to peak down into it.
 
"What, what? What are you saying?" Bella chirrups. "No contamination. The water is fresh and good! Are you making jokes? We go to the shed and here's the well, so watershed? It's a stretch." Her beak clacks in disapproval.

The bucket has been raised to the top of the well, so there's a clear view down the stone shaft, which extends about thirty feet before reaching water. Irregular metal staples form a ladder of sorts down the well and damp moss clings to the stones. There's no sign of any creature in there, furry or otherwise.

Bella takes a few more steps towards the large outer doors of the courtyard, then waits with her paw and talon on either hip.
 
Faria follows with her eyes looking at what seems to be some sort of familiar layout though the specific memories attached seemed to be beyond her ability to recall so she gives up that line of thinking fairly quickly as they would come back or not at all. Instead she looks carefully at this Arback, giving him a small wave of acknowledgement before they reach into the courtyard and upon seeing the dummies up above, she points up there. “Expecting an attack or are you just trying to scare away the ravens?” asked Faria. She glanced back at Cassandra and Varius, both of whom seemed to be more on edge.

She wondered at all the voices, and tried to guess how many they might be as she listened to Bella tell her story. “Well that is very nice of him to fix you, and you’re almost at your first century which is a very important milestone for us elves,” says Faria looking at the other elves wondering if they agreed. Internally she deflated the hope that anyone in town would know them, if Bella had been here eighty years and didn’t know them well odds were that anyone down there that was human wouldn’t remember. Even eighty years to an elf or a dwarf was a long time to recall someone. “I’m sorry to hear that not all of your extended family could not have children, and I can see why your parents sought out the Abbott. Let me ask you this, is everyone here of their own free will? I saw bars back there that was more like a prison.”

She decided to keep moving and proceeded to follow Bella as she spoke with the woman about her condition, and of those at the abbey.
 
Astryos peers down the hill, searching, "Must've been a trick of the mind. Show us the shed, Bella." He turns to go but his eyes remain fixed to the well for a moment, No, my eyes have never deceived me before...
 
scarecrow.jpg"Oh, those guys?" says Bella to Faria's question about the straw guards on the parapet. "Somebody put those up there just for decoration. It can be spooky out here when no one's around." Satisfied that Astryos is done inspecting the well, she continues on to the big doors and pushes them open, letting a chill gust in. Beyond the walls of the courtyard is a much larger grounds, itself bordered by a long, low stone wall, maybe five feet high. Tall, snow-topped evergreens loom over it from beyond.

A dirt path crosses this broad outer yard, going to a gatehouse to the west and, far to the north, the walled garden that Astryos spied from the window of the morgue. "Over here," says Bella, pointing to a rough wooden building by the entrance to the garden. The path takes you by the ground floor of the North Wing, and as you pass you once again hear the animal sounds through the boarded-over windows to your right.

As you walk, Bella speaks to Faria's concerns about the residents of the abbey. "Most of them are still in progress, so not ready to be on their own. The Abbot says it's a long road to perfection, but plenty of time because elves live almost forever, and everyone will get better eventually. All the Washems signed papers at the beginning, to say okay to do what it takes for parents and children both. I'm a lucky one, born with my mind already fixed."

Bella stops at one of the covered windows and raps on the wood plank. "Hi mom!" she says, and then tweets a little song. Two hairy finger poke out through a gap, and Bella strokes them before rejoining you. "Do you think it's bad?" she asks Faria casually.

"Here we are," she says when you reach the shed. Through the garden gate, more scarecrows stand among the frozen beds. Bella tugs the shed door, already ajar, fully open, revealing a dim, ten-foot-square interior with deep floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with tools, containers and other items. "Plenty in there. Take what you need."
 
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