Party 2

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Lillian stares on blankly. "That's a lot..." she says slowly as she takes in everything before cracking a chuckle and following it up with a light hearted ".. and here I thought I'd be cleaning a temple or something"

She leans back in the chair and realises as everyone introduces that she hasn't, she jolts up with a clack of the chair legs hitting the ground again "My name's Lillian Leafront, devout priestess of Chauntea. I know we've just met, I don't mind sharing a room if it'll make it cheaper, we had large group living quarters at the temple so it's not a foreign concept."
 
"That is very generous indeed, I will be sure to tell my sisters so that they know your expenses are covered for the next few days. I generally take the night shift so it will be Mirabel that you will need to speak to in the morning. Alenka runs things in the afternoons." Sorvia takes the coin and places three room keys on the table with wooden markers carved with the numbers 'One', 'Three' and 'Four' on them. She moves them towards all of you with a smile, gesturing for you to take them as she takes the pen and makes a note of your names. She pauses and looks to Draeric again. "If you want any further discussion tomorrow I am sure Mirabel or Alenka could provide you plenty of answers. And some for what to do with that letter as well my dear."

In the process of writing the names down Sorvia stops and snorts laughing a little. She turns to Ezra with a look of disbelief on her face. "Ezra? Well that is a turn up for the books. Forgive my laughter but here Ezra is the name of the Lady of the Mists, a goddess. I am quite sure my sisters won't believe me when I tell them that we have an Ezra staying here, and he's a man." She laughs again and then looks somewhat confused at Ezra's question. "Of course the gods touch here. The Morninglord and the Lady of the Mists in particular. If you are not from Ravenloft I am not sure who you follow but there are some here who are devout. Most fall by the wayside to be honest but Father Donovan up at the church always tries his best."

Getting to Lillian she smiles gently and pushes the key for room four forwards a little. "No need dear, let the boys share. Only two beds to a room either way. I've never heard of this Chauntea either but you seem like a lovely lot." She moves to addressing all of you, putting away the book and taking up her knitting again. "Is there anything else or would you like to retire for the night? You all do seem rather tired."
 
Henry, having felt that he had stared down the inhabitants sufficiently, steps forward and takes the key for room one without a word and heads up to find the room. He places his pack down next to whichever bed is closest to the door and lays face down. 'This has been one hell of a day...'
 
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Drae closes his eyes for a few seconds. "Thank you Mistress Sorvia." Turning towards the paladin, he asked."Ezra, can you share with Henry? You are both skilled in armor and can help each other get out of your gear, much faster than either myself of Alaer. Mistress Lillian, truly the room by yourself should be enjoyed. It will give you the opportunities to conduct prayers or any other tasks that you need to tonight in privacy, and we'll be close by if you wish to talk or any other issues that may come up." Turning back to Mistress Sorvia, "I will look forward to talking to your sister on the morn. Additionally, while we are covered for the next few days, we'll have to find work, especially if the client that brought us here is gone, and the individuals who worked their tricks to get us here are nowhere to be found. We have some funds but not enough to last indefinitely." Sitting back down in the chair, Drae picks up his wine glass and takes a slow sip and begins to roll the glass between his hands as his mind begins dissecting the problems that the party is facing. 'So many questions, and sooo hampered on how to ask them, as both the weave and mists seem to have their own mind and will.' As he sat there, he started cataloging the questions that he would have for Mistress Sorvia's sister.
 
Upon hearing the Goddess's name, the paladin began to blush "I see then...Ravenloft huh? This land, it's a far cry from home. I thank you for your information. I need to sort my mind out." The paladin stood and moved to follow his companion "I will see you all tomorrow, Helm's Light guide you until then." for the most part, he said this out of habit, it almost stung him to say. A land without a Defender God? How would people know to stand up for what is right? What kind of vile debauchery takes place within the shadows not penetrated by the light of Helm?

Ezra moved into his room with Henry, giving him a small nod and doffing his armor. He felt at an odds, it was now easier to breathe, but he felt more unease than ever as he lay defenselessly upon his bed, shield at the ready on the floor next to him, slowly drifting off.
 
You all head up to your rooms, settling in to try and sleep as the rain lashes against the windows. The rooms themselves are plain and sparse, merely two rickety beds with mattresses made of straw and a threadbare blanket as well as two plain, creaking wooden chairs. Despite the sound of the rain and the disquiet of the day's events sleep eventually finds you all and whilst restless, it does not bring with it any troubling or foreboding dreams as the night before had.

You all wake at your own pace, take your morning rituals into account and slowly make your way downstairs. The rain seems to have stopped but looking out of the window the weather is still cloudy and overcast and it lacks any real sense of joy that some of you might associate with the morning. In your rooms when you wake there is a dried flower left next to each of your beds, a small white and delicate flower that was present in the letter that was sent before. None of you remember seeing the flower when you went to sleep.

The bar is mostly empty when you get downstairs but there is one familiar face at least. Arik the bartender is still there with his silent and hulking frame stood behind the bar. As he did the night before he picks up a glass and slowly cleans it before setting it down and picking up the next one, almost robotic in his actions. Sat at the table is a much younger looking version of Sorvia, the Vistani you had met the night before. It seems like this must be the sister, Mirabel, she spoke about. Her face lacks the creases and wrinkles that her elder sister had and she is not quietly knitting, instead she is shuffling cards before slamming them down onto the table and peering closely at them. When she notices anyone come down into the bar she waves vigorously and gestures you all over. "Come, come. Sorvia told me all about you lot. Sit, sit. Breakfast? I'm damned sure we can rustle something up. What will you have eh? Come on, don't be shy. Speak, speak!"
 
Draeric arose from the trance that he had been in, the elvish equivalent for sleeping. He pulled his spellbook out and spent an hour of the initially rainy morning studying. While hungry for information, not exactly eager to go to encounter whatever the 'Mists' had in store for them next. After about an hour or so, he put the book away in his side bag that was designed specifically for holding it and other supplies to scribe more spells, if he ever found them. He took a few more moments to steady his mind before he decided to go downstairs. Seeing the flower, he picks it up and places it in his spellbook for safekeeping. **"Most unusual. I didn't hear anyone, and I know Alaer is even more sensitive to sounds and movement than I... Another mystery in a land full of them."**

Heading down the stairs, he sees the attractive younger woman at the table. *'What was that name that Sorvia gave last night...Mir, Mor, Mar, Mirabel? Well at least someone is happy to see us in this gloomy land.'* Moving over to join her at the table, he quietly pauses and does a slight bow to the Hostess. **"Mistress Mirabel, I believe?"** He said with a questioning hitch in his voice. **"Thanks to you and your sister for the roof over our heads and the opportunity to ask questions of you. I must forewarn you, that I do have quite a few of them, as it was indicated that certain things should not be discussed at night, and even in the light of day, lightly tread upon."** Looking back over to the surly bartender, he thought about it, and felt that it would be rude to decline the invitation for breaking the fast of the eve. **"Thank you most kindly for the offer of food as well. I don't need a lot, just whatever you or staff have available with minimal effort. A glass of ale as well."**

Looking around the inn after taking the seat at the same table with the Hostess, he reexamined the inn with a fresh eye and realized that it was still sadly depressing and roughshod. *'Well everywhere can't be Evereska and actually as I think of it, I'm rather glad for a more honest and refreshing open hostility and none of the pampered crap of the Kingdom.'*
 
Henry awoke from a deep sleep, feeling the fogginess surrounding his senses. He lay face down in his pillow for a few minutes as his body began to catch up with his mind. After one last big stretch, Henry finally rolled out of bed, hair all askew. After stopping by the bathroom, Henry finally made his way into the dining area. Any sort of surprise flowers that were left here went unnoticed by Henry as he slowly made his way downstairs. Drae was once again the first one down here, something Henry had gotten used to since working with these guys. He gave the elf a nod, taking a seat next to him, then turned to Mirabel with a tired expression. “I’ll have bacon and eggs. Eggs done over easy, and a side of any kind of juice that you have.” Henry then stayed quiet, half listening to Drae as he spoke, half still trying to wake up.
 
Lillian awakes and silently wanders about her room dressing in the same traveled wear she wore the day before and grabs ahold of her golden rose shield and climbs onto the bed to pray for protection and comfort on this strange path she's been sent down.

Cleaning the room and packing her things for the day Lillian discovers the dried flower and at first thinks to herself that it might be confirmation from Chauntea but also might be an omen. Chauntea wouldn't present a dried out flower like this.

Lillian delicately pockets the flower as she heads downstairs and hears Henry ask for juice. "Oh, juice for me too please."
 
Mirabel looked to each of you as you ordered breakfast, repeating the orders to herself as if by learned habit. "Toast and eggs, ale." said Mirabel, giving Draeric a polite nod, "No trouble, dear," added Mirabel as she scooped up all the yellowed cards that she'd been putting on the table, shuffling them in her hands with a youthful enthusiasm. Occasionally, one of the cards caught under the edge of an old ring on her finger, far older in appearance than its owner.

"Bacon and eggs over easy, pint of orange juice?" Mirabel said as she nodded to Henry before she turned her attention to Lillian, "Orange juice for you as well, dear?" Mirabel then turned to Alaer and Ezra, who she noticed had not spoken up yet, "And what would you like to order, dears?" asked Mirabel, "Don't be shy, we've got toast, bacon, eggs, porridge," Mirabel started counting off the basic staples of breakfast a la Barovia on her fingers, bashing her deck of cards against each finger as she went, "Cereal? We've probably got some cereal I believe, it's just some sort of grain thingy thats dried out then smashed up until its small flakes. Sausages? Pancakes? We've obviously got a wide variety of drinks," Mirabel offered, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder towards the bar where Arik was still working his way through the pint glasses with a cloth rag.

With a sudden loud bang, Mirabel slapped her deck down on the wooden table, leaning back on her stool as she did so with a wide smile. "So, questions, questions?" asked Mirabel excitedly, shuffling through the deck of cards without looking at it. Each card had a pentagram in the center that had looked to have been stamped onto the card, with two almost burnt out candles rising out of it either end so no matter which way the card was held up, there would be one candle rising up and one candle upside down, smoke billowing upwards in the illustration, looping around itself while the background was a solid black. "Who wishes to start with questions?"
 
Glad that she knew what eggs over easy were, Henry settled for leaning on one arm and watching as Mirabel flipped through her cards. He wasn't particularly impressed, that is until the cards were slammed onto the table and he saw what the cards actually were. He may not know much about this land, but if it were anything like home, those cards were still fucking creepy. "Uh, yea sure I'll start. Who's soul did you have to sacrifice to get the cards from Asmodeus himself?"
 
Mirabel chuckled at Henry's remark, with her ruddy cheeks and sparkling eyes making it clear she was being playful, "My my, aren't you forward," grinned Mirabel as she reached for the deck and casually held it so that she could see the faces of the cards and the group could see the backs. "Would you believe that I found them one day?" Mirabel asked, arranged the cards into two piles that were both face down in front of her, one pile noticeably bigger than the other. "Strange things like that happen in Barovia all of the time." Mirabel looked towards the rest of the group, wondering what question she would face next.
 
Looking at Henry, Draeric spoke up. "Actually, the pentagram is also used to seal and bind evil and otherworldly spirits, it is not just associated with Asmodeus." Turning his attention back to Mirabel, he admired the way that she handled herself, and moved through the inn. "So Mirabel, we are very curious about the mists and the way that they work. Most of us have been blessed with travel by them twice now, and the experience was not exactly pleasant." Pausing to rub the bridge of his nose, he thought about it for a moment and continued. "This may sound extremely weird, but the weave that I feel and interact with to touch the arcane, it feels tainted and twisted...surging at the weirdest moments. I would have to say that my next question revolves around this flower that I found in my room. It reminds me of the one that was in the initial letter that we received from a 'Vistani' gentleman. Does it have a significant meaning?"
 
"Flower?" asked Mirabel, picking up the deck of cards once again and shuffling through them without looking at them. She kept her eyes on Draeric's eyes. Then he nodded, a sullen look gracing her face for a moment.

"Ah, it appears you too have been brought into our realms," commented Mirabel, the slight rub of the cards as she shuffled them into each other sounding like someone running a stone down the side of a cheese grater. "I can only imagine such a flower was meant as a mark of our realm - of Barovia." Continuing to shuffle her cards, Mirabel then started doing something odd and out of the ordinary - she placed the deck down and started drawing a card at a time, looking at the face of it then putting it face down on the table until she found the one she wanted. The card depicted a graveyard, hundreds of tombstones looming up on fog covered hills that shrouded the ground so as to make the headstones appear to be floating in the clouds.

"The mists," declared Mirabel, tapping one corner of the card with a long nail, "Aside from Vistani - any who enter the mists either return to Barovia, or more likely, perish." Mirabel's glum expression didn't falter, emphasising that she was not joking around. "It is said by some that there is one person alone who controls what comes in and what goes out of the mists, via Vistani." Mirabel looked to Draeric as he was the one that had brought up the mists in the first place. "You said that you've been through the mists not once but twice - where did you end up the first time?" While she addressed her questions to Draeric, with the way she glanced at each person around the table, it was clear that anyone could answer, if they so wished.
 
Drae reached into a pouch on his side and pulled out his spellbook. Opening to one of his favorite spells, he pulled out the flower. We had one of these in the original letter from the Vistani that was the messenger, 'recruiting' us. This morning, I found this one on the floor of the room that I was staying in. While I find them quite beautiful, I was very intrigued the very first time that I saw it. More so that it was on the floor this morning and neither I nor my companion sensed anyone's presence in the room to place it."

Pausing to take a drink of the ale, he looked at the cards that Mirabel was using, admiring the beauty and yet sensing more of the weave in their nature. Shaking his head slightly, sure that he was imagining it, he looked into her eyes, making a judgment call and continued. "Technically, it could have been three times I guess. The night before we came here, when we met the Vistani, there was an unusually thick mist moving around, almost following us. At which point we entered the inn, I had felt that the 'weave' was off that night, but couldn't figure out why. The very next morning we were in the outskirts of town in the street when it appeared, and grabbed at least the four of us, and possibly a younger child of about 13. The child of the innkeeper, who we had rescued a few weeks earlier." His mind working through the events, seeing it again, vividly. "We were 'pulled/sucked...pushed out maybe of the mists, where I have no idea or clue, but suddenly it was much later in the afternoon and we were on a totally different road. We quickly explored where we arrived, but couldn't find anyone else. About 2-3 hours later, the mist appeared once more. Whether we traveled, or it brought someone else to us or us to her." Pointing to Lillian, "And a sleeping cleric was in front of us, and we were on the outskirts of your village at night. Other than that, we have nothing but questions, a job that 'apparently' doesn't need us, and no clue about Barovia, its ruler, or the mists. I think that pretty much wraps up the situation. Did I miss anything friends?"

Taking another drink of ale, he looked back at Mirabel and the others, waiting for a response.
 
Mirabel leaned a little closer towards Draeric, looking at the flower he was showing. "Hmm, that flower - " mused Mirabel, "I'm not good with flowers, but someone leaving you the same one repeatedly - that's a sign of something." Mirabel sat back in her chair and dusted off her ankle length dress, "Well, if someone's breaking into the rooms, I could ask Sorvia to check the locks at least."

As Draeric talked about the mists, Mirabel nodded, though she looked little confused when he brought up a child. "This child - were they around when the mists let you go? Did they run into the mists?" Mirabel fidgeted a little with her cards, "If their around here, there's not too many children in Barovia. In fact, only ones I can think of are these two small mites who sometimes turn up on the path near the large manor house nearby." Mirabel stopped shuffling her cards and looked to the others, aware that some of them hadn't even ordered breakfast yet.
 
Henry's expression was skeptical as she claimed to have found the cards, but when Mirabel continued to speak of Barovia and the Mists, his skepticism faded little by little. He didn't know what this quilt was that Drae kept referencing, but Henry didn't remember him ever wearing one.

When the topic changed to the boy that was swallowed by the mists, and how there were some children nearby, a look of hope crossed Henry's face. "No, this child was stolen by the Mists. Poor Finnan wanted nothing but to escape the Mist, and yet when we came to he was gone. But if there are very few children here...is it possible these kids you speak of might know where Finn is?"
 
Ezra had spent the morning in a bit of a fog, or perhaps it’d be more appropriate to call it a mist. His mind swirled still with their new location but he woke up ever so slightly more comfortable with the world the party found themselves in. As he sat watching the others, Finn was mentioned and his heart skipped a beat ”Perhaps Finn was brought to a different part if this land? Where’s the nearest town? Perhaps someone brought him there” he cleared his throat, there was a bit of an early morning rasp as he spoke but it didn’t detract from from his attempted stoicism which was A welcome return to normality.
 
Mirabel looked to Henry, tapping her thumb onto the back of the deck, her eyes searching him up and down. She nodded to herself, as if coming to some decision that only she was privy to.

"Finnan." repeated Mirabel, "Hmm, perhaps Rose and Thorn might know where Finn is." Mirabel looked to the bar and to Arik. "Arik, breakfast. Toast and eggs, bacon and eggs over easy, two pints of orange juice, a pint of ale and better bring a pot of tea and a plate of toast." Behind the bar, Arik put the dishcloth down and set about fixing the ordered breakfasts.

"No guarantees mind," said Mirabel, idly shuffling the cards without looking at them again, "The mists - they are a strange creation." As Ezra spoke up, Mirabel nodded in agreement, "There are no guarantees that Finnan did not end up somewhere else in Barovia. In a strange quirk, the country is called Barovia and our village is also named Barovia. But, I'll have Arik spread the word and tell folks to keep an eye out for him." Mirabel looked to the table for a moment, seeming to be trying to think of something. Eventually, she looked up, just as Arik brought the ordered breakfast around on a large wooden tray which he set down in the center of the table, on top of the card of The Mists. "Rose and Thorn are usually found wandering around town. You can't miss them - they're very," Mirabel looked up at the ceiling for a moment, "Peculiar. But harmless. What did Finnan look like, by the way?"
 
Henry, oblivious to Mirabel's look, scratches his head as he tries to remember what the boy looked like before being swallowed up by the mists. "Well, he's a young boy, brownish hair I think? Last we saw him he was wearing a white cotton shirt and dark green shorts held up by suspenders, as well as some with some leather boots. Typical commoner clothes, you know?" Unfortunately Henry hadn't really paid much attention to Finn during their time together, so he wasn't sure if the kid had any identifying scars or markings or anything. He figured that he was a boy in a strange land, it shouldn't be too hard to identify him compared to other children who were more comfortable in this town.

"Now what can you tell us about this Rose and Thorn? I understand they're peculiar, but peculiar how? Remember, we're in a completely new world, so basically everything is peculiar."
 
Mirabel smiled as Henry gave a description of what Finnian had been wearing the last time Henry had seen him. "Well, I can't promise anything more than we'll spread the word," said Mirabel, casually dipping her hand into Arik's apron and with six seconds she pulled a small tatty notebook which appeared to have been made out of offcut pieces of parchment that had been bound together with a few loops of thread, into which a small stub of a pencil that had clearly been sharpened unevenly with a dagger. Making a few scratchy notes in very poor handwritten Common, Mirabel looked to Henry with a smile.

"Rose and Thorn, hmm, where to begin," mused Mirabel, "Well, for a start, they wear fancy cloaks, far more fancy than children normally wear." Mirabel fidgeted with the card of The Mists, rolling it through her fingers. "Long purple cloaks with high collars that come up over their ears. Rose is tall and very, very thin. Thorn is smaller and seems to be a year or two younger."

Mirabel glanced upwards then pointed at the window out onto the street. "There - there they are in fact." said Mirabel excitedly. Any who turn to look would notice a tall girl with a pixie bob cut of black hair partially obscured behind a purple collar while next to her walked someone who was small enough that only the top of their head was visible through the window.
 
Shifting slightly, uncomfortable for some reason with Mirabel's smiles towards him, Henry tried his best to imagine the children that she was describing. When she suddenly pointed out that they were right outside the inn, Henry stood and dashed towards the door without even a nod of thanks to Mirabel. Once he cleared the doorway, he raised a hand and called out to the purple clad children, "Hey -- hey you kids! Rose and Thorn! I gotta couple questions for you!"
 
The moment Henry pushed the door open, he could feel the biting cold that seemed to blanket Barovia. There weren't many people on the streets at all, though nearby shops had their windows unshaded and doors wide open in an effort to invite some form of custom. It was a strange sight as a result to see the two children with little but fog down the street ahead of them. With Henry calling their names, both of them stopped in place and then turned around.

The older child, a tall but thin child who seemed to be wearing clothes intended for an adult, a long light purple coat that flared out at the waist and then arced down stopping just above the tall boots that the child was wearing. A large red cloak that seemed to smother the child with a high collar that almost levelled off at the top of the child's head with a gold chain clasp holding it shut. The child held their hands behind their back, hidden behind the cloak with only their elbows visible at their sides.

The smaller child, wearing a hood over their head that obscured all but their mouth in shadow, two eyes peeking out behind the gloom. A thick fur lined coat whose hemline almost reached their ankles. A strange doll clutched against their chest as they held it in their right hand while clinging to their sibling's cloak with their left, shifting slightly closer as they peered at Henry.

"Good day," said the older child, not moving any closer to Henry for the moment. Their voice was crisp, a precocious attempt at sounding older than they really were. "My name is Rosavalda," beside Rose, the smaller child whimpered slightly and moved even closer to her, seeming to clutch the stuffed toy in their hand even tighter against their chest. Rose glanced down at her sibling. "Hush, Thorn, it's alright. We're safe now. Maybe we might be able to get some help."

Rose returned her gaze towards Henry, "This is my brother, Thornboldt," said Rose by way of introduction. Glancing over Henry, Rose nodded to herself, as if deciding something. "There's a monster in our house." she explained, "We've tried to ask the villagers for help, but most of them won't enter. You said you had questions?"
 
A little freaked out by how well spoken and formal these kids came across, Henry froze for a second and just looked back and forth between the two of them. Normally when a child complained of monsters under their bed or in their room, it was typically just bad dreams, but this seemed to be far from the case with Rose and Thorn. When they asked about his questions, his brain finally restarted and he nodded. “Uhh, yes I did have questions. We’re looking for a kid, named Finnan, also responds to Finn. He’s young, got brown hair, probably seems really lost and confused. Innkeeper said you might have an idea where he might be?” Henry raises a thumb over his shoulder to point at the bar behind him, indicating he meant Mirabel.
 
Rose looked to where Henry was pointing, the wooden sign for the Blood of the Vine tavern catching her eye. "Oh, Mirrie said that," remarked Rose, "Hmm, there aren't many places in the village where Finn could have gone without someone telling Mirrie where we was." At Rose's side, Thorn squeezed Rose's arm and pointed towards their house, looking from Rose to Henry and back to Rose again.

Rose looked at their house, then back to Henry, "It's - possible he might be in there. We've been sleeping on the porch but there's a few ways in that Finn could've gone in. Other than that he might've ended up wandering into the sweet shop or the butchers. Maybe Ismark took him in?" said Rose, "Ismark tends to be one of the kinder villagers, so if he saw Finn looking lost and confused, maybe Ismark tried to help him with somewhere to sleep for the night?" Rose looked to the inn, "You said 'we' - are there many others with you?"
 
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