Scholar of Barbarism
New Member
"Perhaps we should determine exactly where we are, then?" Cassia rises, carrying the two skeletons, and walks over to the gates, intending to open them and see just what this strange village has in store for them.
Party 8
- Thread starter Kanaxe_Ru
- Start date
As Cassia pulls open the gates they are stiff and creak with almost a scream of protest but eventually open up enough to squeeze through with the skeletons in tow as well as the rest of the party. You are sure that the loud noise from the gates must have brought some attention but the night is silent and the village seems empty and dark. There is a moment where you wonder if all of the houses are like the one you have just spent so much of your energy fighting through. However the faint flickers from a fireplace behind a boarded up window a few houses down gives you the reassurance that it is an occupied village with living residents. Although it is a far cry from Daggerford and the other places you have been on the Sword Coast.
The rain starts when you are a few steps into the village, not a torrential downpour but a pervasive misty rain that seems to find every crack in your armour and hole in your clothing leaving you soaked to the bone in minutes. The few torches burning in wall holders in the streets splutter in the damp and the space between the cobbles turns to sticky mud quickly coating the bottoms of your shoes. The only thing more noticeable than the silence is the total lack of people on the streets. Even in rain late at night you would expect the odd drunk straggler stumbling his way home but these streets are empty, leaving narrow side streets and alley ways looking like silent tunnels to damned places.
After a good ten minutes you spy a church and a graveyard up a small hill and silhouetted against the dull grey of the night sky like shadowy sentinels of silent death. Off another street in the opposite direction looks to be a tavern with a bar of light spilling out through a murky window onto the mud and stone in front. Given your promise to lay the children's bodies to rest you make out towards the church, spotting a gentle light coming from inside one of the side windows as you get closer. The building itself is squat and not impressive, a few bells swaying listlessly in the wind and a large wooden door. When you get closer to the door you notice that it has large gouge marks on it, splintering the wood. A square dull metal knocker sits in the centre of the door which is slightly askew.
The rain starts when you are a few steps into the village, not a torrential downpour but a pervasive misty rain that seems to find every crack in your armour and hole in your clothing leaving you soaked to the bone in minutes. The few torches burning in wall holders in the streets splutter in the damp and the space between the cobbles turns to sticky mud quickly coating the bottoms of your shoes. The only thing more noticeable than the silence is the total lack of people on the streets. Even in rain late at night you would expect the odd drunk straggler stumbling his way home but these streets are empty, leaving narrow side streets and alley ways looking like silent tunnels to damned places.
After a good ten minutes you spy a church and a graveyard up a small hill and silhouetted against the dull grey of the night sky like shadowy sentinels of silent death. Off another street in the opposite direction looks to be a tavern with a bar of light spilling out through a murky window onto the mud and stone in front. Given your promise to lay the children's bodies to rest you make out towards the church, spotting a gentle light coming from inside one of the side windows as you get closer. The building itself is squat and not impressive, a few bells swaying listlessly in the wind and a large wooden door. When you get closer to the door you notice that it has large gouge marks on it, splintering the wood. A square dull metal knocker sits in the centre of the door which is slightly askew.
Scholar of Barbarism
New Member
Cassia shivers a bit in the rain. "Ah, of course it's raining. Couldn't have a beautiful summer's day for respite, now could we?" She sighs, and lumbers up to the door. Noting the gouge marks with a grimace, she lifts the knocker and raps on the door. "At least a rest for the little ones will soon be at hand, even if the rest of us still have far to go."
Boonslayer
New Member
Tazkul looks a bit off-put by the gouge marks in the door, and stands behind Cassia. "I would advise caution, given what we're seeing here and what we have already seen." Tazkul had seen the light coming from the other direction; the light of a tavern that, with a good bit of luck, would still be somewhere they could obtain their long-awaited rest after the children got theirs...Rose was do a gentle repose, after all. "The good news is I saw a tavern in the other direction, so perhaps our rest can come shortly thereafter."
VidkunFanel
New Member
Gaarek, fearful of what may be to come, moves toward the side of the church upon seeing the damage done to the door. He paused a moment there surveying the graveyard and listening for any signs of life or danger. He noticed there were tracks leading to the church which were being washed away by the rain in the muck. All he could hear were the faint movements of one person inside the church which led him to believe it to be a groundskeeper or perhaps a mourner. "I believe whatever caused that damage to be gone at least for the time being. Someone was recently in the graveyard but likely just a villager. Still.. be careful," he warned as he returned to the group on the stairs.
RuneRW
Can't Rune away from me!
Baltair is tapping at his drum while they leave the ruins of that damned house. He hoped to cheer himself and the others up, even if just a bit.
Elbowing Tazkul in a friendly manner, he says "Here's tae hopin' they still serve ale!" He then adds after a quick pause, in a more solemn tone "Of course, only after the little ones have been laid to rest."
As they get closer to the church, he stops his quiet drumming to show proper respect.
Elbowing Tazkul in a friendly manner, he says "Here's tae hopin' they still serve ale!" He then adds after a quick pause, in a more solemn tone "Of course, only after the little ones have been laid to rest."
As they get closer to the church, he stops his quiet drumming to show proper respect.
The knocker seems to boom against the old sodden wood of the door, possibly a little louder than intended, and echoes across the empty graveyard. The rain keeps going but in response to the knocking the very air itself seems to stay still, any semblance of the breeze completely dying. There is a moment of hanging silence before the sounds from inside continue and get a little louder. There are the sounds of moving furniture and clinking silverware before a haggard and reedy voice calls out from the inside, not loud enough to be a shout but clear enough to be heard. "Okay. Okay. I'm coming eh. I'm coming."
There is the dull scrape and thud of a bolt being pulled back before the door opens a crack and a silver candlestick, covered in scratches and dents, with only a couple of well used looking candles pokes out of the door. The candlestick is soon joined by the face of a old human male and the glow of a thin pipe. The man has long white hair and a full white beard with sad eyes that look world-weary and almost broken in the dim light. With every pull of the pipe the bowl glows and the man's eyes catch a bit of the light and look more alive but still deeply troubled. He looks you all up and down, noticing the skeleton's over the shoulders, and merely nods. "Late for a burial. Late indeed eh. Still best get it done. Let me get a shovel." And with that the man closes the door.
After a moment he opens it again, this time fully, and steps outside into the rain with you all. He thrusts a battered looking old shovel towards Gaarek with a nod. "You look like the type that can dig. Good eh. Saves me a job." The old man is wearing a heavy brown woolen priest's robe but he has no iconography on him and no holy symbol that any of you can notice. He sets off towards the graveyard and it is clear that he is trying to put on a confident walk but it is difficult for him, his gate stuttering and almost artificial as if the mere act of walking towards the cemetery is the limit of his physical ability although it doesn't seem like he is injured. He walks in silence towards an empty plot of land, stops and points down. "Here."
There is the dull scrape and thud of a bolt being pulled back before the door opens a crack and a silver candlestick, covered in scratches and dents, with only a couple of well used looking candles pokes out of the door. The candlestick is soon joined by the face of a old human male and the glow of a thin pipe. The man has long white hair and a full white beard with sad eyes that look world-weary and almost broken in the dim light. With every pull of the pipe the bowl glows and the man's eyes catch a bit of the light and look more alive but still deeply troubled. He looks you all up and down, noticing the skeleton's over the shoulders, and merely nods. "Late for a burial. Late indeed eh. Still best get it done. Let me get a shovel." And with that the man closes the door.
After a moment he opens it again, this time fully, and steps outside into the rain with you all. He thrusts a battered looking old shovel towards Gaarek with a nod. "You look like the type that can dig. Good eh. Saves me a job." The old man is wearing a heavy brown woolen priest's robe but he has no iconography on him and no holy symbol that any of you can notice. He sets off towards the graveyard and it is clear that he is trying to put on a confident walk but it is difficult for him, his gate stuttering and almost artificial as if the mere act of walking towards the cemetery is the limit of his physical ability although it doesn't seem like he is injured. He walks in silence towards an empty plot of land, stops and points down. "Here."
Scholar of Barbarism
New Member
Cassia stares at the priest, somewhat stunned by his blase attitude. Her tail twitches and her eyes flicker red, but the moment passes. Death must be no stranger to the people of this sad place. She follows him out to the graveyard wordlessly, paying no mind to the rain pouring over her shoulders and sloshing in her boots. When she reaches the plot, she turns to the priest. "Thank you for attending to this so late. We are strangers here, as I am sure you can tell. So many questions - but first, we must pay respects to these two." She lays the skeletons to the side, and begins using her shield as a makeshift shovel to assist Gaarek. "Rose and Thorn, they were called. We found them as you see, in a place of death and corruption. We were much too late for them, and all we could do was bring them here. I wish...I wish..." She trails off, as looks downward as her eyes mist over.
RuneRW
Can't Rune away from me!
"Calm yerself, Cassia. We were far too late tae save them. We did what we could, at least their spirits are at rest now." Says Baltair, trying to console the paladin. "They didn't deserve any of it, but none can choose their own fate. I'll make sure tae make mention of 'em in the stories of our adventures." He continues, trying his best to shift their focus from the grim present to the likely just as grim, but at least hopeful future.
Boonslayer
New Member
Tazkul likely didn't look as much like the digging type as the others, but he did look strong enough to lift the others out when the digging was done, and although he had no digging implement himself, he had a bit of a somber look on his face as he observed for the moment, bending down towards the bodies. He could give them a better state in the afterlife than this with a little bit of Mending. After all, Rose was in some ways a part of him now...better to give them as proper a respite as possible, looking up towards the man that brought them to this site as he did so. "Come to think of it, we seem to have sort of crashed here. What is the name of this town that we've found ourselves in in the aftermath of all of this, friend?" He was ready to write this information down...now that he had someone to ask.
VidkunFanel
New Member
Under different circumstances Gaarek may have had something to say about the old man trying to avoid doing his own job. Gaarek was more than happy to dig for the children though. "I was thinking about Rose and Thorn. They couldn't defend themselves while they were alive but maybe they can in the next life.." he says as he continues digging. "My people would often bury the dead with weapons to serve them in the afterlife. How would you feel if I offered them each one of my axes? With those and the fighting spirit they likely learned from you two," turning to Baltair and Tazkul, "I'm sure they will be just fine in the next life."
The priest listens to your words and nods to himself, seemingly only half paying attention. It seems like he doesn't care about you and the skeletons but when Cassia hangs her head he lays a frail hand on her shoulder in a reassuring way, a show that you aren't alone in sharing the burden of what needs to be done to put these children to rest. His voice is still world weary and rasping but there is a resolve and a strength that was missing from when he first called out. "Rose and Thorn eh? Sounds like they had it rough but everything here is rough in some way." He takes out one of the half burned candles from the candlestick and pushes it, still lit, into the dirt at the top of the grave. He looks back to Gaarek as he lifts the two skeletons into the grave with solemn eyes. "That's a fine thing to do lad. A fine thing."
When the corpses are placed into the hole correctly the priest moves around and pushes the dirt back in over them with his feet. The lack of respect might be shocking to some of you but the look on his face just seems like he is trying to get it finished. When the job is roughly done he leans down over the candle and waves his hand over it. The flame turns a light blue and stops flickering in the rain, casting a steady light over the grave even if a little dimmer than the sputtering normal candle flame before. With a little effort the old man stands up, looks to the rest of you and sighs. "Say your goodbyes then get out. Leave the shovel." He looks to Tazkul and shakes his head. "It's too late for questions lad. See me in the morning eh? After dawn." With that the old priest slowly makes his way back towards the church and slams the door.
When you are all alone in the cemetery the blue light flickers once then twice and standing on the grave are the disheveled children you saw before but now translucent and slowly fading. Thorn is pressed up against his sister's side, too shy to talk, but Rose looks to you all and smiles. As she does so the creeping sadness seems to leave her face and she looks like an innocent girl again. "Thank you. Thank you so much for rescuing us." Her voice is full of genuine gratitude and she saves her biggest smile for Tazkul. Ever so slowly Thorn steps forward and hesitantly reaches for Baltair's hand if Baltair takes it then it feels cold and not all there like mist on a winter's morning. He looks up and sniffs a little bit but the hidden away and scared expression cracks just for a moment and the corners of Thorn's mouth twitch up. Rose calls her brother over and together they wave goodbye, Rose's voice coming through clear on the quiet night. "We will always remember you. Please, remember us." The pair of them lean over and blow out the candle and as the blue flame vanishes so do they leaving you stood alone around a rough grave in the pouring rain.
When the corpses are placed into the hole correctly the priest moves around and pushes the dirt back in over them with his feet. The lack of respect might be shocking to some of you but the look on his face just seems like he is trying to get it finished. When the job is roughly done he leans down over the candle and waves his hand over it. The flame turns a light blue and stops flickering in the rain, casting a steady light over the grave even if a little dimmer than the sputtering normal candle flame before. With a little effort the old man stands up, looks to the rest of you and sighs. "Say your goodbyes then get out. Leave the shovel." He looks to Tazkul and shakes his head. "It's too late for questions lad. See me in the morning eh? After dawn." With that the old priest slowly makes his way back towards the church and slams the door.
When you are all alone in the cemetery the blue light flickers once then twice and standing on the grave are the disheveled children you saw before but now translucent and slowly fading. Thorn is pressed up against his sister's side, too shy to talk, but Rose looks to you all and smiles. As she does so the creeping sadness seems to leave her face and she looks like an innocent girl again. "Thank you. Thank you so much for rescuing us." Her voice is full of genuine gratitude and she saves her biggest smile for Tazkul. Ever so slowly Thorn steps forward and hesitantly reaches for Baltair's hand if Baltair takes it then it feels cold and not all there like mist on a winter's morning. He looks up and sniffs a little bit but the hidden away and scared expression cracks just for a moment and the corners of Thorn's mouth twitch up. Rose calls her brother over and together they wave goodbye, Rose's voice coming through clear on the quiet night. "We will always remember you. Please, remember us." The pair of them lean over and blow out the candle and as the blue flame vanishes so do they leaving you stood alone around a rough grave in the pouring rain.
Boonslayer
New Member
Tazkul watches the priest get himself away, and curls his lip slightly, a bit of air escaping his nose. Fundamentally, he could not disagree much more, as it rarely was not a time for questions, but if they were fundamentally similar to a great degree, then...well, Tazkul would be burying dead at some graveyard away from wherever here was, so he let that be. A dragonborn's features do not seem to naturally come to a smile, but Tazkul seemed capable of giving one in return. He may have never been an older sibling to another like Rose, but there was one thing he was that made him relate to her desire to protect Thorn; a cousin. He'd failed to protect Baltrun those years ago in pursuit of that accursed ring, but he'd do everything he could to not fail the others. A moment of silence later, Tazkul looked to the others. "Perhaps it is time we head for that tavern, then."
Scholar of Barbarism
New Member
Cassia smiles weakly at the apparitions of Rose and Thorn, as they fade away. "Goodbye, little ones. We will carry your memories with us throughout our lives, I do not doubt it." She looks to the church with a frown, then back at the makeshift markers Gaarek set up. Her face takes on a determined look, as she falls to one knee, drawing her sword and leaning both her hands on its hilt as it stands perpendicular to the ground, in imitation of images of noble knights she caught a glimpse of somewhere. "I came here thinking I could find the goodness left in people's souls, to help them reach a state of forgiveness. But this dreary place, I see now, does not need the soft touch of redemption - it needs the strength of devotion, to cast away the shadows that curse it, to be a beacon of hope in a place that is lost." Her voice rises, and becomes preternaturally thunderous, drowning out even the pouring rain. "Today, I, Sorrowful Cassia, swear to whatever Gods may deign to cast their eyes on this benighted land, that I will devote my life, to my last dying breath, to cleanse it of evil; to root out the darkness; to be a beacon of hope to the hopeless, and a visage of dread to the corrupted." Her body seems to glow - not fiery red this time, but with a faint radiance of light. It fades a few moment later, and Cassia rises - more confident and spirited than before. "Yes, Tazkul, it is time we have a rest of our own - I am sure we will need all our wits about us in the morning, for there is much to do!"
RuneRW
Can't Rune away from me!
Baltair gives a solemn nod as he takes Thorn's hand. "We will do our best tae remember ye." He says as he reaches towards his eyes with his free hand. "Thank the Gods above it's raining" he mumbles to himself as he is in the verge of breaking into tears. He always had a good relationship with his siblings, however, now he is left to wonder if he'll ever see them again. "Rest easy, little ones." he says, staring at the ground before him.
Finding strength in the paladin's words, he finally manages to steel his resolve and fight back the tears. "I won't swear anything tae any gods, but I'll swear this tae ye. We won't fall tae the despair of this place, not while we still have our blades in our hands and song in our hearts. We weren't brought here just tae fall prey tae this evil, we will fight it tae the very end. Either ours, or its end." After his short speech, he stares into empty space for a while. This time however, he doesn't stare in despair, but in hopefulness for the future.
Turning to Tazkul, he answered "I could do with some sleep, and if our luck has it, with a drink!"
Finding strength in the paladin's words, he finally manages to steel his resolve and fight back the tears. "I won't swear anything tae any gods, but I'll swear this tae ye. We won't fall tae the despair of this place, not while we still have our blades in our hands and song in our hearts. We weren't brought here just tae fall prey tae this evil, we will fight it tae the very end. Either ours, or its end." After his short speech, he stares into empty space for a while. This time however, he doesn't stare in despair, but in hopefulness for the future.
Turning to Tazkul, he answered "I could do with some sleep, and if our luck has it, with a drink!"
VidkunFanel
New Member
Gaarek was very pleased he got to see the children once more and with a smile on their faces. "Goodbye young ones, we will hold you in our hearts.." his voice trails off as he struggles with the lump in his throat. As his companions start to leave the graveyard he plants the shovel in the earth near the graves. As he approaches the group he attempts to collect himself wiping away tears, "I don't know how well I will be able to sleep tonight but perhaps a drink would help.. or even a song. I wouldn't blame you if you were in no mood for such a thing but your music does calm my nerves Baltair."
Making your way back from the hill, you are struck again by the quiet of the town almost deathly in its silence. There should be the movement of rodents or something but nothing but silence and rain. The rain at least is steady having been your constant companion from the fall of the house to the burial to now as you step onto the street with the tavern. A grimy light pours out from within in a thick rectangle on the floor and there is only the faintest of sounds from inside, voices talking as hushed as possible. A worn and weather beaten wooden sign hangs down from a pole above the door proclaiming the name to be the 'BLOOD ON THE VINE TAVERN'.
Stepping inside the tavern the first thing you notice is that the door creaks something fierce as though it is opposing being opened at night. The bar itself is sparse, a few scattered tables with mismatching chairs dotted about but the bare stone floor and the lack of anything on the stone walls leaves a feel of poverty in the air. There is a fire that is lighting up the room and providing some warmth, meager though it is. At one of the tables sit three men who are talking among themselves but they stop when you walk in instead giving you all glares of mistrust and suspicion. This place has a different feel from other taverns you have been in before, there is something guarded and private about this place.
The other people in the tavern are a drunk with his head down asleep and drooling on the bar slightly, a stoic looking giant of a man behind the bar and a woman sat on her own at a table knitting. The barkeep is around six and a half feet tall and broad across the shoulders, he doesn't look in your direction when you enter instead focusing steadily on his mindless task of cleaning the glasses. The cloth in his hand does not look like the cleanest but he is persevering nonetheless, that slight squeak of the cloth on glass one of the only sounds left in the tavern after the conversation dies off. As soon as he finishes on glass he moves on to the next one, all without looking.
The woman is the one who seems the most out of place, she is heavily wrapped up in woolens and blankets of all different colours reminiscent of the Vistani that you traveled with before but perhaps a little less outwardly extravagant. She has dark auburn hair with streaks of white and grey in it as well as kind brown eyes that glitter with intelligence and scan over you as you all enter. She is knitting with a large set of bone needles and the pattern seems to be a white and lilac flower on a green background but it isn't finished yet. For a moment she seems like a kindly grandmother but at a second glance it seems like she is younger than she appears, the wrinkles in her face not showing the sort of age you would have expected on first looks.
When you step inside she lays her knitting down and looks you all over, tutting a little at how soaked you all are before she breaks into a warm and motherly smile. It is the first true showing of care or affection that any of you have seen from the living since you were pulled in by the mists. She waves you all into the room and gestures for you to hang your coats up by the fire. Her voice is warm and soft and gentle, both homely and comforting. "Goodness, goodness. Come in. You will catch your death of cold out there. Coats off yes, yes. That's it. Travelers? It's been a long time since we had those at the Blood. Please come in, come in." She turns to the barman and waves her hand. "Arik, go and fetch our guests some towels. They need to dry off somehow." She looks back over towards you and smiles again. "Oh where are my manners I am ever so sorry. My name is Sorvia and I am one of the owners of this tavern. Can we get you some wine or anything? The food service is over I'm sorry but I'm sure we can rustle up a drink for you while you dry."
Stepping inside the tavern the first thing you notice is that the door creaks something fierce as though it is opposing being opened at night. The bar itself is sparse, a few scattered tables with mismatching chairs dotted about but the bare stone floor and the lack of anything on the stone walls leaves a feel of poverty in the air. There is a fire that is lighting up the room and providing some warmth, meager though it is. At one of the tables sit three men who are talking among themselves but they stop when you walk in instead giving you all glares of mistrust and suspicion. This place has a different feel from other taverns you have been in before, there is something guarded and private about this place.
The other people in the tavern are a drunk with his head down asleep and drooling on the bar slightly, a stoic looking giant of a man behind the bar and a woman sat on her own at a table knitting. The barkeep is around six and a half feet tall and broad across the shoulders, he doesn't look in your direction when you enter instead focusing steadily on his mindless task of cleaning the glasses. The cloth in his hand does not look like the cleanest but he is persevering nonetheless, that slight squeak of the cloth on glass one of the only sounds left in the tavern after the conversation dies off. As soon as he finishes on glass he moves on to the next one, all without looking.
The woman is the one who seems the most out of place, she is heavily wrapped up in woolens and blankets of all different colours reminiscent of the Vistani that you traveled with before but perhaps a little less outwardly extravagant. She has dark auburn hair with streaks of white and grey in it as well as kind brown eyes that glitter with intelligence and scan over you as you all enter. She is knitting with a large set of bone needles and the pattern seems to be a white and lilac flower on a green background but it isn't finished yet. For a moment she seems like a kindly grandmother but at a second glance it seems like she is younger than she appears, the wrinkles in her face not showing the sort of age you would have expected on first looks.
When you step inside she lays her knitting down and looks you all over, tutting a little at how soaked you all are before she breaks into a warm and motherly smile. It is the first true showing of care or affection that any of you have seen from the living since you were pulled in by the mists. She waves you all into the room and gestures for you to hang your coats up by the fire. Her voice is warm and soft and gentle, both homely and comforting. "Goodness, goodness. Come in. You will catch your death of cold out there. Coats off yes, yes. That's it. Travelers? It's been a long time since we had those at the Blood. Please come in, come in." She turns to the barman and waves her hand. "Arik, go and fetch our guests some towels. They need to dry off somehow." She looks back over towards you and smiles again. "Oh where are my manners I am ever so sorry. My name is Sorvia and I am one of the owners of this tavern. Can we get you some wine or anything? The food service is over I'm sorry but I'm sure we can rustle up a drink for you while you dry."
Scholar of Barbarism
New Member
Cassia smiles weakly at Sorvia, glad to encounter a friendly face at last. She puts up her overcoat by the fire as suggested, her tail twitching slightly as she stares into the flames for a moment or two. "Thank you very kindly, Sorvia. Yes, I think a drink would be in order, after the...experience we have had." She straightens up, still shivering a bit. "Not from around here, no. By way of introduction - I am called Sorrowful Cassia, and what we have seen today would have been enough to give me that moniker if it wasn't blazoned on me from my youth."
Boonslayer
New Member
Tazkul, perhaps a bit on the short end compared to most Dragonborn, made his way in, a rather curious look on his face as the woman directed his coat off, having little problem doing so as he found himself a seat, and he raised a hand. "I could go for a drink as well." Tazkul was not normally one to drink casually, so the fact that he so readily requested one was indicative of Cassia's words about their harrowing ordeal getting here. "I am Tazkul Aphid, researcher and treasure hunter. Well, I suppose you'd call me a hunter of treasure, although my interest lies more in objects of significant arcane and archaeological study than simple baubles worth a handful of coins. Anyway, a pleasure." Another nickname some had for him was Tazkul the Long-Winded.
RuneRW
Can't Rune away from me!
Back before they left the cemetery, Baltair answered Gaarek's question. He turned to the half orc and said "I would happily play something in their honor, however, we are next tae a town and we are in the middle of the night. I don't think these folk need waking up at this time." His voice was sad, but his face and posture didn't show it.
Once they arrived at the tavern, he hanged his coat together with the others. He was happy to see a cheerful face, and he introduced himself as well. "Name's Baltair! I'm a storyteller first and a warrior a close second. Ye might say, a Skald! And I've never refused an offer of drink before. I won't be brraking me habit today!" He said cheerfully. He then added "If ye would like, I can perform for yer customers the next night, they sure look like they could use some cheering up!"
Once they arrived at the tavern, he hanged his coat together with the others. He was happy to see a cheerful face, and he introduced himself as well. "Name's Baltair! I'm a storyteller first and a warrior a close second. Ye might say, a Skald! And I've never refused an offer of drink before. I won't be brraking me habit today!" He said cheerfully. He then added "If ye would like, I can perform for yer customers the next night, they sure look like they could use some cheering up!"
VidkunFanel
New Member
Gaarek, though pleased to see a friendly face, was quite wary of the otherwise unwarm welcome. He was no stranger to this kind of reception being an "orc savage".
"It is nice to meet you Sorvia, I am Gaarek. Thank you for your hospitality it is much needed on this night, as much as a drink." Not wanting to seem rude or untrusting of his hosts that night Gaarek would have a glass or two, but to those who knew him it would be easy to see he was holding back. He wanted to keep his wits about him just in case the locals got any ideas.
"It is nice to meet you Sorvia, I am Gaarek. Thank you for your hospitality it is much needed on this night, as much as a drink." Not wanting to seem rude or untrusting of his hosts that night Gaarek would have a glass or two, but to those who knew him it would be easy to see he was holding back. He wanted to keep his wits about him just in case the locals got any ideas.
The lumbering barman returns a few moments later with a towel for each of you handing them out silently without really looking at any of you. The towels were likely once white but are old and a little threadbare, not rough but not newly pressed and fluffy either. They are clean though and there are no stains merely aged. As he moves back behind the bar Sorvia calls out to him. "Arik, four wines for our new guests." He nods and you all now notice that the only thing behind the bar in terms of drinks is wine. There are many different labels and bottle shapes but there is no whisky or brandy or ale, only wine. Arik picks one almost at random and pours out a glass of red wine each, finishing the bottle off with the last glass before moving back to the spot he was in before and picking up a glass to clean it.
Sorvia looks back to you and smiles that warm, motherly smile again. "On the house since it is such a chill night and by your own admission you have had a hard day. Dearie me. Well it is lovely to meet travelers at least, tell me where are you from? You all speak very good Balok but..." She gestures towards all of you. "Without being rude or anything, you do not look like people we usually see in here in Barovia. Are you from Kartakass or Richemulot? Mordent maybe?" There is confusion in her eyes and then she slowly nods as if thinking of something. "Or outside of Ravenloft entirely perhaps. My, oh my. Travelers from outside of the core. I have heard stories but I have not met any outsiders that have walked the mists before. Did you have help?" She tuts for a second and shakes her head a little. "Sorry, sorry. Manners again, sometimes I just get too curious. Please, enjoy your drink and I will have some rooms prepared. You can speak to my sisters in the morning about payment for the rooms. As for you Mr Baltair, Mirabel loves a good song I'm sure she would adore it if you could play something for her tomorrow, we don't get music around here a lot." She roots in her bag for a little bit and pulls out three room keys with wooden tags attached showing the numbers One, Three and Four on them, sliding them towards you on the table.
Sorvia looks back to you and smiles that warm, motherly smile again. "On the house since it is such a chill night and by your own admission you have had a hard day. Dearie me. Well it is lovely to meet travelers at least, tell me where are you from? You all speak very good Balok but..." She gestures towards all of you. "Without being rude or anything, you do not look like people we usually see in here in Barovia. Are you from Kartakass or Richemulot? Mordent maybe?" There is confusion in her eyes and then she slowly nods as if thinking of something. "Or outside of Ravenloft entirely perhaps. My, oh my. Travelers from outside of the core. I have heard stories but I have not met any outsiders that have walked the mists before. Did you have help?" She tuts for a second and shakes her head a little. "Sorry, sorry. Manners again, sometimes I just get too curious. Please, enjoy your drink and I will have some rooms prepared. You can speak to my sisters in the morning about payment for the rooms. As for you Mr Baltair, Mirabel loves a good song I'm sure she would adore it if you could play something for her tomorrow, we don't get music around here a lot." She roots in her bag for a little bit and pulls out three room keys with wooden tags attached showing the numbers One, Three and Four on them, sliding them towards you on the table.
Boonslayer
New Member
Tazkul does notice a few irregularities about the place. For one, the fact that they served only wine caught his attention. In fact, such types of drinks were normally a commodity, at least as he was used to seeing it, but that did not feel like the most appropriate question right now; as fascinating as it was, especially after the question of where they come from came up. Of course, then that name tickled his memory. "Barovia you say?" A curious hum from the dragonborn. Once again, it was...strange how similar it was to somewhat of a growl coming from his deep voice. "It is funny you should mention hearing stories and us being from outside of this Ravenloft in the same breath. We met a nomadic group that claimed to be from a Barovia...seeking some assistance with a long-standing matter here. We were told that we were being brought here to assist, although we awoke to a crash of the caravan we rode with."
Scholar of Barbarism
New Member
Cassia smiles at the barkeep, Arik, on receiving the wine, and takes a sip. She instinctively rubs one of her black horns as Tazkul mentions the crash. "That was nothing compared to our foray into the house of death we came across. Sorvia, had you heard of the Durst family? We found what remained of their home, and the depravity therein. The remnants of a cult obsessed with a monstrosity called Lorghoth. Except - it seems to have completely disappeared since we left it..." Her eyes turn towards the keys, and begins to reach for one of them. "Three rooms - two of us will have to share. If you all don't mind, I would prefer to sleep alone."
RuneRW
Can't Rune away from me!
Thanking the towel passed his way by a nod, the bard then turns to Cassia. "I think we can understand that. I on the other hand, have no objection for sharing a room, I served in the army after all. Had no choice there!" He says with a soft chuckle. He then continues, talking mostly to Sorvia "I can attest tae my companion's story here. That house was a wee bit on the horrendous side for me likin'. I'm just glad we sorted that mess out!" Baltair sits in thought for a moment before going on. "In any case, I be wonderin' what could've befallen the good folk we were travelling with. Vistani, I believe they called themselves. They were nowhere to be found when we came tae after the crash."