Party 5

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Fauntleroy looks away once Iselka hides to change and suddenly remembers Carwyn’s predicament. The half-elf crosses the distance, sliding her wand in her sleeve. “Master Gwirionedd,” she says, frowning. “My apologies for not landing my spells. It won’t happen again.” She looks Carwyn over with a sigh. “Seems like they made you bleed for that attempt at heroism. Will you be alright?”

She glances at the child, tilting her head. For a moment her gaze seems to soften before she looks back at the cleric, remember why they got into this fight in the first place. “Is he safe enough for your tastes now? Is your bloodlust slaked? If so, I’d rather we go.”
 
Carwyn picks up the boy, holding him in his shield arm to keep him as steady as possible, as he limps slowly towards the rest of the group. "Edmon eh? Well it seems we might be a long way from home Edmon. You are from Daggerford right? I live there now, you know the Bronze Dragon Tavern, near the markets? That's where I stay." Keep talking to the boy, keep him focused on your worlds not the death around him.

Fauntleroy comes over and he just shakes his head, his face white with pain and blood loss. "I will be fine as long as I have Eldath with me. And my anger, whilst misplaced with you definitely, was not bloodlust. The only thing I wanted was the safety of this little rascal Edmon here." He gives Edmon a small squeeze in his arms, wincing a little. "Yes, I agree we shouldn't stay here Professor. Where should we go?" He stumbles forward in a vague direction forward, at least forward from where he thinks they were traveling. He is thankful for the night, because it was covering up what he was sure must be rather a large red patch in his robes on his ribs. "Right okay Edmon, let's find somewhere to stay tonight. Do you like camping? What's your favourite meal?" Carwyn keeps up the meaningless talk as they slowly inch their way forwards.
 
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Gimble comes back toward the group after that Petre wolf was felled. "Aye good on ya Doctor, you took care of that werewolf good and proper. Tis a shame we had to go straight to violence, but without the distance and surprise, I am not sure we would have gotten off so well." Looking at Balion in the tree's he shouts "Balion! You done feeding that bird yet? We're heading off!" Shrugging a bit, he turns his eyes to Carwyn "You feeling alright there Cary?" Giggling at the pun. "Perhaps you should focus on ya self, the lad's got legs. Hell, I doubt Balion would rather carry the kid than you getting yourself hurt. Ah, but you do what you need."

Strectching his arms he approaches Iselka trying the taste of the words in his mouth before he throws them out into existence. "You...you did well out there, ehh..." Trailing off, feeling his resolve failing he turns around, only to turn back again. "I know 'ow it feels to be left in the dark, ta have your life taken from you...I can't imagine this has 'ad no effect on ya, so I want you to know that you can talk ta us if you need to." Gimble stares a bit then his face contorts and he turns around walking in a wide gait and saying over his shoulder "Don't expect that offer ta last forever!" Keeping his head straight he goes back into the woods with a smile barely poking from the corners of his mouth.

Gimble kinda stretches his arms and gets to work finding and carefully reseting the flectching and head binding on each of the silvered arrows he had shot. After gathering them up he presents them to Balion. "Oye, I think you might get more use outta these than I will."
 
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Balion makes his way down the tree and walks to the body he downed. He examines it for a second and notices only 2 were salvageable. Retrieving them and cleaning them he then stows the arrows as he walks back to the party. "Carwyn...If you are so tired you should probably not be carrying the...Edmond." Turning to Gimble he blinks slowly and kind of bows his head as he takes them. "I'll be sure to put them to use, then. Thank you." After stowing the arrows Balion walks up to Carwyn and Edmond and kind of gestured like he was ready.
 
Turning back to face Balion Carwyn blanches for a second. Okay, can't turn left at the moment, remember that. He ruffles the kid's hair and replies with a forced smile. "Edmon, Balion, the tike's name is Edmon. No 'D'. Unless you would like us to call you Baliond for a while?" He shifts slightly and feels the blood come back into his mouth, but swallows again. He had no magic left inside him but if he got through the night then he would be able to heal himself tomorrow at least. He looks down to Gimble seriously for a second. "He's been through a hell of an ordeal Gimble, the least we can do now is give him some support and some levity."

Then he looks back at Edmon and introduces everyone to him. "So lad, this little one is Gimble and he can be almost invisible when he wants to be, he's amazing. Balion here is the best shot with that bow you will ever find, it was his arrow that saved us both back there." He winks at the boy playfully. "This is the Professor, she's the smartest person I've ever met, a genius! And this is Iselka, don't be scared of her lad she's not like the others. She is the one who brought us here to be able to find you, and she is so brave." He turns his head to look at Balion, not making the mistake of turning sideways again. "Lead on Balion, find us a town or an inn. Let's get a hot meal and some rest."
 
“I could’ve taken care of this werewolf faster,” Fauntleroy says. “It wasn’t that good of a performance. I’ll be sure to do better next time.” It frustrates her that her spells didn’t land, and just the thought creases her brow for a few moments. She’d have to calculate and review and see what went wrong and fix that for the next time. She couldn’t afford mistakes again.

She watches Gimble talk to Iselka. The gnome’s hesitation is understandable, but Iselka had proven surprisingly useful an ally, in Fauntleroy’s opinion. She quietly hopes Iselka would perhaps travel with them so more, but it would be strange to ask such a thing of her, wouldn’t it?

Instead of wasting any more time on questions such as those, Fauntleroy returns her attention to the rest of the group. She nods at the child as she is introduced. “Professor Bryce Fauntleroy,” she says. “A pleasure to meet you, Edmon.” She gives Carwyn a worried look, but the cleric seems inclined to move onward despite his injuries. She doesn’t have anything on hand to help him, let alone some magic. “Our deceased foes indicated that there was a civilization nearby, though I wonder if it’s a good idea to travel far right now.” Perhaps if they set up camp here, she would have some time to study the bodies...
 
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Edmon nods at Carwyn softly while he tries to make lighthearted conversation, either not seeming to notice the cleric's wounds or attempting to ignore them best he can. "Never really been camping," he says, glancing between the man's face and the canopy of the forest above. "I always liked, mmm.... chicken pot pie." For a moment it seems like he considers getting down and walking by himself, but ultimately decides against it.

Iselka, who continues to keep a respectful distance regardless, glances over at Fauntleroy and frowns. "I would wonder if it's a good idea to remain here, when these guys certainly aren't the only things that go bump in the night. But I can't stop you." Shrugging, she pulls her cloak tighter to hide her ragged clothing and circles around the group, before beckoning them onwards to the northeast. "Now come on, we haven't much moonlight to spare."

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The trek northeast is largely uneventful, aside from the occasional rustling of leaves from the wind or the sound of a small bird or two darting off into the night sky (none of which, unfortunately, seem to match the size of Balion's 'acquaintance' earlier). As you keep going you start to hear a faint round of howls - far to the distance, barely more than a whisper, but the persistence keeps you moving with some haste. They continueto be heard for another 10 minutes or so - almost like they were keeping pace with you - before finally beginning to trail off into nothingness, the sound being muffled by wind and trees.

Soon enough the trailing road through the woods opens up to a larger clearing, still surrounded by woods all around though the extra space was a breath of fresh air at least. A cool breeze drifts about, and in the relative quiet of your travels you can hear the not-so-distant rushing of a river to the south. A small walking trail is visible, and you start onto the path, happy to no longer be stumbling blindly between the trees.

After about another half-hour of walking the muddy ground underfoot begins to give way to slick, wet cobblestones as you find yourselves at the edges of a small village, seemingly still and ominously picturesque in the dead of night. The half-hidden waning moon illuminates the area, casting a soft glow on the various run-down and rickety houses that make up the streets of the settlement. There doesn't appear to be anyone walking around, not at this late hour.

As you search around for signs of life, three faintly firelit buildings catch your eye: a church to the north, cradled by its graveyard; a (relatively) large two-story mansion, to the south; and a more humble inn in the center of town. A creaky sign hanging above the door reads "Blood of the Vine Tavern".

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Gimble stares a bit too long at the signs of civilization and structure, remembering that he has to keep up he books it back to the others excitedly speaking to Fauntleroy. “Oy, oy, oy, you reckon they got any jewels? I’ve been seeing them in my dreams ever since we left Daggerford. Ho ho! I’m going to have a fun time here!”.
 
The walking has been taking it's toll on Carwyn and he is stumbling over his feet more often as they hit civilization. When the mud stops he puts Edmon down, wincing heavily as he does so, and ruffles his hair. "There we go, I think we can both walk from here right lad? No more mud to have to worry about." He looked around the town with a frown, this was not somewhere he recognised on his travels around Daggerford. The wound is a lot harder to hide in the torch light of the town, and without Edmon to help block the view, but Carwyn pins his shield arm to his side hoping that the shield would hide the worst of it.

He turns back to the rest of the group, hearing Gimble talk about jewels, and gestures to the inn that was lit up. "I am taking Edmon to get some food and some rest, then I have some things to tend to. This village isn't familiar to me and something feels wrong here, it's too quiet." He pauses for a second, clutching his side and wincing. "I don't think you will find many jewels here Gimble, this is not Waterdeep." He turns and leads the boy by the shoulder towards the inn, now limping heavily, and hopefully some relief for his injuries.
 
Balion traveled along, trying his best to help keep a lookout. He would occasionally circle round behind them just to be on the safe side before returning. Upon reaching the town he seems to grow more on edge then less, though it would be hard to tell from the outside. "This...isn't right. I've never heard of a settlement like this being in these woods...let alone of this size. We must continue with extreme caution." He would stay near his companions while keeping a wary eye on the buildings of the village.

As Carwyn begins heading to the inn Balion falls in with him, turning to the others. "It is best if we all stay together, we know not what lay ahead of us."
 
“A village with a graveyard does not spring up overnight,” Fauntleroy says. She doesn’t like the way Balion was on edge. Inexperienced with the woods, she thinks it’s wiser to trust his judgment. Nonetheless, logic tells her that this village cannot be new. Either Balion hasn’t heard of it, or something is going on.

She frowns as Carwyn immediately heads into the inn. “Singleminded fool,” she curses under her breath. She turns to Gimble with a sigh and a fraction of an apologetic look. “Perhaps they do, master Waywocket, though I agree with Balion about staying together. It is wisest for now. Though I won’t stop you if you were to...explore.”

With that Fauntleroy rushes to catch up with Carwyn. She grabs his uninjured shoulder to halt him. “Give me a minute. It wouldn’t do to spook the proprietors of this establishment.” She gives Carwyn’s wound a critical look, but the man has been stubborn about it and she can do very little to help him. Instead she snaps her fingers repeatedly, mumbling <clean> again and again under her breath as she cast Prestidigitation to clean first Carwyn’s clothes, then Edmon’s and then her own, as well.
 
Carwyn winces when Fauntleroy stops him but nods at her advice. When she takes a look at the wound he grimaces and mutters more to himself than her, "It isn't as bad as it seems. I have it under control." After she cleans his robes, then sees to Edmon and her clothes, he gives her a weak smile. He looks down at Edmon, hiding the pain, and gives him a wink. "I told you she was a genius. Magic right?" Looking pale, from loss of blood and tiredness, he turns back to Fauntleroy and only manages a nod. "Thank you Professor. Your work in the fight was amazing, but now I think we need some rest." He pushes open the door of the inn and leads Edmon inside, holding it open for Fauntleroy and the others to follow.
 
She raises an eyebrow at Carwyn’s claim that is wasn’t as bad as it seems, but she doesn’t waste the effort arguing. She can only hope that the cleric is wise enough not to get himself killed. She clucks her tongue at Carwyn’s praise. “Don’t fill his head with nonsense,” Fauntleroy reprimands, “this isn’t the work of a genius. Any half-wit first year wizard can do this. And that during the fight was....hardly passable, at best.” Nonetheless she turns around and steps into the inn, surveying the room.
 
Looking At Fauntleroy before entering the tavern “I’m glad I have yer blessing at least Doctor huehue.” Chuckling a chuckle with volume he makes his way in the tavern with the rest of his crew.
 
Blood of the Vine Inn:

As you enter through the creaking wooden doors of the inn, you're greeted by a bit of light and warmth from the fireplace in the corner - though this late into the night, it has mostly subsided to flickering embers without anyone bothering to stoke the flames. Slightly more luminous is the light from the oil flasks scattered around the room - one by the bar, the other accompanying an older woman at a corner table next to the fireplace. The rest of the tables are empty, wiped clean for the night with the chairs stacked up.

Swaddled in light handwoven robes and a warm shawl, the woman's style of wear is faintly familiar to that of the nomads you had come across albeit much more dulled and modest. She tilts her head up slightly to survey the new group of arrivals, before continuing to hunch over the small pile of books and records she was inspecting by lamplight, pulling her dark brown hair behind one ear.

At the counter a pudgy man in a roughspun tunic and apron mindlessly wipes down a wine glass in the faint lighting, seemingly more to keep his hands and mind busy at this late hour than to make the shining glass any cleaner than it already was. A passed out man lays fast asleep nearby, slumped over the bar with a small pool of drool having accumulated. Every so often, the apparent bartender reaches over and wipes it clean, then returns to his busywork without skipping a beat. He barely acknowledges your presence with little more than a nod.

After a moment the woman seems to mull it ove before she speaks up from her table, adjusting her spectacles. "Erm... can I help you? Looks like you've been through quite the trouble."
 
Carwyn tries his best to smile at everyone, but gods it hurt so much to even move now. He nods to the barman and to the older woman. "Good evening, I am sorry for calling in so late. We would like some rooms if possible, three most likely, and some food for the lad if you have any. If you have chicken pot pie, well that would be perfect." He gives a little grin and ruffles the boy's hair. "My name is Carwyn, I am a priest of Eldath. Would you be able to help us please?" He reaches out and steadies himself against the bar for a moment, feeling the room spin momentarily. Eldath's peace he needed to rest.
 
“I’m Professor Fauntleroy.” She introduces herself with a half-baked attempt at a curtsy. For a moment her hand hovers as she catches Carwyn reach to steady himself, before she lowers it. It’s his own fault, she tells herself yet again.

Instead she scrapes her throat. “We have money to pay for a room,” she adds to Carwyn’s words. “Money shouldn’t be an issue.” If it was, then they were an expensive establishment.

Fauntleroy can’t help but eye the books and records the woman is handling with intrigue. She thinks it’s likely they’re just the inn’s financial records, but she still has that innate sense of wanting to know what’s on paper.
 
Gimble surveys the room taking in the sights the smells the beautifully vulnerable target at the bar, and familiar clothes of the old woman. Smiling wide he begins to saunter over towards the bar grabbing the top of the stool and hoisting himself on top. Gimble gives a glance around the in to check how many people are sizing him up or perhaps suspicious of him. Damn it's dark in here can't see a blasted thing, ah but Bryce and Cary are the only ones talking I should be fine. Gimble waves to get the bartenders attention then pointing at a bottle on the display behind him says "I'll get 3 shots of that please." Not caring too much what it is he is pointing to but pointing to a shiny enough bottle that catches his eye. Then as soon as the bartender turns around picks the pocket to the man beside him. Sleeping in and out of the unconscious man's pant's, Gimble pulls out once enough coins inhabit his palm turning a looking right at the barkeep without batting an eye. Gimble turns around and speaks towards Balion and Fauntleroy "Ey Doctor, ranger! I got shots for the both of ya, Carwyn what'll ya have?"
 
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Blood of the Vine Tavern:

"Professor you said? You must have traveled far then, we've not many of those around here," the woman says thoughtfully, sipping her tea. "The Red Academy perhaps? Or that Kantora College? Most of the snobbier ones try to avoid our area altogether." She looks over to Carwyn and adds, "Three raven-claws per room-- er, silver pieces. I haven't seen you around before so I can't assume you know the currency." Glancing across the pile of papers in front of her she reaches for one and begins to read it over, adjusting her spectacles. "Hmm... I think perhaps Arik over there knows how to make that but unfortunately we don't have any leftover meat this late at night. Perhaps my sister will stock up in the morning. Would porridge suffice for now?"

Edmon opens his mouth as if to say something in protest, but then his stomach rumbles and he nods with a slight pout.

"Shots...? Only wine glasses..." The bartender apparently named Arik half-turns to look at the shelves behind him, which Gimble catches too late is filled only with wine bottles, mostly of the same branding and color in pristine alignment. He looks back just as the gnome finishes fishing into the man's right jacket pocket, though he doesn't seem to register what had just transpired.

Grasping his prize in his hands Gimble comes to realize his mark didn't even have a coin pouch, just a pitiful smattering of copper and silver coins, many of which are old from wear and tear. Upon peering closer he might notice that the coins are crudely stamped with symbols resembling animal claws or teeth. "G'dammit..." the man mumbles in his sleep, turning the other way. "Ya better git me what I'm owed if ya know what's comin' to ya, ya bast'rd..."

The man at the counter meanwhile wordlessly grabs one of the many bottles and a wine glass and sets them down on the counter in front of Gimble. "3 rat-tooths a glass," he intones, holding a hand out expectantly towards the smaller figure.
 
Carwyn laughs at Edmon's pout and ruffles the boy's hair. "Just water for me and the lad please Gimble." He turns to the woman and smiles gratefully. "Porridge will be perfect. If it could be heated a little whilst I sort something out in the room that would be wonderful. Oh would it be possible to have a bowl of water or something brought up?" He reaches, gingerly with a wince, into his belt and pulls out two gold pieces. He hands them over to the old woman with a kind look in his eyes. "One for the room for me and the boy and the porridge. One for the kindness you have shown tonight. Thank you."
 
“I’m not familiar with those academies,” Fauntleroy admits. “But I haven’t been this far north before.” Nonetheless she finds it weird. She thought she’d heard of most academies, through affiliation or hearsay, but perhaps she was wrong.

Fauntleroy hesitates, taking a step closer in an attempt to get a closer look at the files. She hesitates for a few moments, before tilting her head. “Excuse me, but I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure what ‘this area’ is. I fear we might have gotten lost in the woods.”

After a moment she moves to the bar, giving Gimble an appraising look. She’s not entirely sure if he’d managed to steal anything. She glances at the glass of wine. “I’ll pay for it myself, master Waywocket.” She reaches inside her pouch. “Are ‘rat-teeth’ copper coins?”
 
Looking around a bit perturb at the currency change Gimble grumbles "Ah, 'ave it your way 'B'. Though looking to the man he stole from, the third drink is for this guy, whenever he wakes up. Also," flicking a gold piece on the counter "Get whatever the boy and my injured friend would like." Looking back at Bryce Gimble states."We haven't been travelling too far from Daggerford I don't understand how the currency could be so different!." Gimble both frustrated at the need for an exchange rate of his coin and the fact he was in a different economy altogether was not a charming thought.

Turning to the woman that Fauntleroy was talking to earlier he speaks up a bit to get her attention. "Excuse me Miss! Could you perhaps tell me what this village is called? I am not familiar with your currency and I would like to know the name for any possible future business ventures if the opportunity were to present itself."
 
Balion's eyes narrow, a very uncommon sight on him, and his voice seem to get lower and a tad slower as he speaks. All not good signs to those who know him. "Yes. Where are we? My knowledge of the land in this area...This isn't right." As he speaks his tone wouldn't be aggressive or rude as a person unfamiliar with him would notice. To his companions, he might have as well drawn a blade and demanded answers though. After a few moments, he closes his eyes and takes a few breaths before opening them again. Seems he has found his center once more. "I apologize. I am not used to surprises like this...especially when I am familiar with the land somewhat."
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Arik nods at Carwyn's request, before heading into a backdoor that presumably leads to the kitchen. The woman raises an eyebrow at the gold coins offered to her, then nods slowly and takes them, inspecting them as they gleam in the lamplight. "Dragons, huh..." she murmurs, before flipping open a page in her ledger and making a mark. "Yes, copper will do for rat-teeth, as long as it's the same size. And I'm sure we have a spare bowl or something else that should suffice," she says, glancing over at the lot of the group. Iselka, who quietly came in last and shut the tavern door behind her, nods softly in response as she rummages through her small pack of belongings, keeping her eyes cast downwards.

"Familiar with the land, eh... that's not something most people here would claim," she notes, rubbing the coins between her hands one last time before stowing them away. "I don't know where you came from originally but it seems you've ended up in the domain of Barovia, as ruled over by a certain Count Strahd von Zarovich. This specific area is normally referred to as the Village of Barovia." She shrugs. "I would have named it something better, considering that it's no longer the only village in Barovia, but I am also not the ruling count of the land."

She looks over to Gimble and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. "I am curious as to what you mean by 'business ventures', though I would dare to say that it is a conversation best saved for sometimes besides the middle of the night." She takes another sip of her tea, before refilling from the small pot nearby. "Though perhaps it can start with a name. You may call me Sorvia."
 
Carwyn looks down at Edmon fondly as he takes the key from Sorvia. "You have your porridge and then come straight up to the room okay? You will need your sleep." He looks to the other members of the group, nodding at Balion with a wince. "Balion I leave the boy in your care. I won't be too long." Now satisfied that the boy will be fed and looked after he moves up the stairs, grimacing heavily and almost dragging himself up the stairs by the banister. Whilst he hears the rest of what Sorvia says he isn't concerned now, the morning could be the time for worry. He is more concerned about everyone getting rest and tending to his wounds.

When he is clear of everyone's eyes, he leans against the wall breathing heavily almost at the point of collapse. By the gods his side was on fire. He moved slowly to the room, unlocking the door and leaving it unlocked for Edmon. As he gets into the room he puts his pack down and peels off his robe, struggling to get it over his head. Looking down at the caked blood and the large puncture wound in his side he winces, it looks worse than he first thought but at least his shoulder feels minor. Tearing the robe into strips he binds the wound tight although he almost passes out from the pain a few times as he cinches the makeshift bandages. He throws on his spare robe, this one blue and green with frayed sleeves, and sits down facing the door waiting for the boy to come up.
 
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