Baba Luga
Vestige
The bleating of horns dies down. "The hill people won't bother us here either," says Dag. "The seed keeps them and their creatures at bay, at least so far."
"Who speaks of balance?" The voice comes from the curtain, which moves aside revealing a hunched old man, presumably Davian Martikov. "Hrmmm," he grumbles, surveying the four new arrivals. "The Wizard of Wines is shut down, so now we're running the Illusionist of Inns, is that it?"
Davian turns to the man with the charcoal and parchment. "What of your missives, Elvir? We must get the word out about what has happened here."
"It's the hawks, pa. We're getting intercepted," Elvir says.
"Ach! Damn things." He closes the curtain behind himself, but not before Faria, Cassandra and Astryos catch a glimpse of the unlighted area beyond it: Someone with long, curly hair lies in a cot with their back to you. A chair is near the cot. Stained rags are heaped on the floor in a corner.
Dag speaks to his father-in-law, explaining how he found you, that you came from Krezk and were harried by bats on the way.
"You are right," Davian says to Faria, "about the Count not letting this state of affairs continue unchecked, especially with the wine at stake. But these are not normal times. Von Zarovich is a creature of passions, prone to obsession. Something has fixed his eye of late and the land will suffer until he is sated or exhausted. Until then, we must endure and hope our losses are not complete. I'm sorry you came out here only to be trapped with us. You may stay, of course. We won't send you back out there to be turned into mushrooms. Somebody find a place for them."
Dag and Stefania show you to a small room that is mostly empty, save for some old wooden casks. Your torches are completely exhausted, so Stefania lights candles. As you put down your equipment, it's apparent that the backpacks Astryos and Cassandra have been carrying are overloaded and splitting at the seams. They'll either need to be repaired or replaced, and then not stuffed so full in the future.
"Who speaks of balance?" The voice comes from the curtain, which moves aside revealing a hunched old man, presumably Davian Martikov. "Hrmmm," he grumbles, surveying the four new arrivals. "The Wizard of Wines is shut down, so now we're running the Illusionist of Inns, is that it?"
Davian turns to the man with the charcoal and parchment. "What of your missives, Elvir? We must get the word out about what has happened here."
"It's the hawks, pa. We're getting intercepted," Elvir says.
"Ach! Damn things." He closes the curtain behind himself, but not before Faria, Cassandra and Astryos catch a glimpse of the unlighted area beyond it: Someone with long, curly hair lies in a cot with their back to you. A chair is near the cot. Stained rags are heaped on the floor in a corner.
Dag speaks to his father-in-law, explaining how he found you, that you came from Krezk and were harried by bats on the way.
"You are right," Davian says to Faria, "about the Count not letting this state of affairs continue unchecked, especially with the wine at stake. But these are not normal times. Von Zarovich is a creature of passions, prone to obsession. Something has fixed his eye of late and the land will suffer until he is sated or exhausted. Until then, we must endure and hope our losses are not complete. I'm sorry you came out here only to be trapped with us. You may stay, of course. We won't send you back out there to be turned into mushrooms. Somebody find a place for them."
Dag and Stefania show you to a small room that is mostly empty, save for some old wooden casks. Your torches are completely exhausted, so Stefania lights candles. As you put down your equipment, it's apparent that the backpacks Astryos and Cassandra have been carrying are overloaded and splitting at the seams. They'll either need to be repaired or replaced, and then not stuffed so full in the future.