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Party 9

Davavor looks around him for another path that might have let this stranger sneak up behind them but doesn't see one. A chill runs down his spine, his shoulders straighten as he shivers, "Chilly here, isn't it." he asks the stranger masking his bewilderment with the man's sudden appearance.

"Barovia...I don't know that village. Perhaps I'll finish up the song once there with a larger audience."
 
Willan throws his hands up in the air in exclamation. "Thank Tymora! It seems ages since I've seen a friendly face!" Willan strides over and slaps the old man on the back. "Why yes, we were indeed headed to town. You say Barovia is it's name? I'm glad to meet someone in the know. I certainly intend to accomplish my goals of a warm meal and a soft pillow. Come, walk with us and tell us more about this fine place we've found ourselves in!"
 
As Aelar passes through the gate he investigates the statue heads. His attempts to identify the type of moss growing on the stone were unsuccessful nonetheless. It was a strange moss and he couldn't tell either the type or the amount of time it had been growing there. He reaches down for a sample and sticks it in his pack.

As the man comes up from behind them Aelar walks to the edge of the forest and blends into the woods. He doesn't trust this man and he is irked that his new travelling mates are so trusting.
 
Shae jumped at the unfamiliar voice, but ended up trying to hide a sigh of relief. She didn’t realize how much she missed meeting people who didn’t want her dead, even if the merchant was a bit... shifty? Still, friendly conversation couldn’t hurt, and she sauntered over to him.
“You’re a merchant, yeah? Got anythin’ interesting with ya? I’m sure you at least have some good stories.”
 
"ah stories a plenty of this land have I and wares as well. Come let us make our way to town, we don't want to be caught outside at night." His wizened hand waves for the group to follow as he starts making his way to town.

"Tell me travelers, from what lands do you come? The mists have a way of bringing people here, taking them back however is a different story."
Whatever wares he has in his pack jangle about as he trudges onwards. Whistling a tune as he goes.
 
Davavor looks to the sky, trying to make out the time of day through the mists by finds them obscuring and difficult to read the sun, "Is it always so foreboding here?" the bard asks still staring at the sky, "The Sword Coast." he answers keeping the answer intentionally broad until they got to know their new companion better, "It's just on the other side of those gates about a day and a half..." the realization of how unbelievable that sounds suddenly strikes the half-elf. Surely gates such as that would have been mentioned at some point in his travels. This, 'Barovia', too.

"Merchant, what is your name? Are there any oceans or seas in this land?"
 
"Barov Fallona is the name young pup, and I'm not sure what you mean by foreboding. The weather is as it's always been, except when it's raining that is."
As if on que the first drops of rain fall from the heavens. The peddler pulls his cloak tighter around him as he attempts to hurry toward the town.

"Come along travelers, if you don't want to catch your death we should make for the Blood of the Vine tavern."
With some distance to go the cold rains pummel the group, and seep into your bones. A thick, dense fog crawls acrossed the ground chocking out your surroundings from sight. Your "guide" seems to know his way however and soon enough tall shapes loom out of the dense fog. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance...
 
How far from Daggerford did we travel? the bard wondered to himself trying to make sense of the new climate and unknown land, "Is it always so...quiet?" he asks of their guide.
 
"oh it usually is at night around here, the town has no walls and nothing to keep the monsters at Bay." His comment is somewhat offhand, as if such things are common knowledge.

The party comes to the centre of the town, and single shaft of light thrusts illumination into the main square, its brightness looking like a solid pillar in the heavy fog. Above the gaping doorway, a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the Blood on the Vine tavern. Use to the normal bustle of taverns back home, this one is quiet in comparison. A general feeling of unease curls up and makes its bed in your stomachs. "There she is, the only tavern for miles. Now if you'll excuse me the hour grows late and I have something to deliver to the Burgomaster." Without much further ado the peddler walks off into the mist, his walking stick clacking on the stones growing further away until the sounds becomes swallowed by the mist. The group stands there watching him disappear.

The main door to the tavern groans in protest, as it catches on the uneven floor boards. Evidence of it's once grand nature have become worn and shoddy with age and neglect. A blazing fire in the hearth gives scant warmth to the few huddled souls within. Three men dressed in bright silken clothes have taken a table by the door, they seem engrossed in their drinks and pay you no mind as you enter. A bartender absentmindedly cleans glasses behind the counter with what was probably a clean rag when he started. The last occupant is a middle-aged man who looks up at your arrival, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. He makes no motion to welcome you to his table by the fire, but seems to be the most welcoming face that the party has seen since arriving here.
 
The half-elf looks askew at the elderly merchant at the nonchalant mention of monsters. After saying his farewells to the man, Davavor looks around the empty town, concerned for its state, "There seem to be trees a-plenty. Why don't they build some walls?" he asks the group rhetorically before entering the tavern.

"Have you ever seen a more pitiful lot?" he says quietly back at his companions. He gives a polite nod to the brightly dressed men, "Special occasion?" he asks of them, "You certainly stand out in this crowd." he says leaning in, gesturing subtly with a cock of his head over his shoulder at the more somberly dressed folks.
 
The girl glanced between the now leaving merchant and her companions, at a loss. "Not like any merchant I've ever met. They usually love talkin' about themselves." Shae followed Dav into the tavern, her expression slowly falling and clearly lost in thought.

Inside the tavern was not much more inviting than the rest of the village. Shae eyed the room warily, occasionally fidgeting with her bag. "I'll see about us getting somethin' warm. I don't think I'm the only one that nearly froze ta death out there." Before she gets a response, Shae's wary demeanor melted away as she sauntered over to the bartender. "'Scuse me sir, have ya got anythin' for some poor freezing travelers. A few beds would be nice too." She leaned against the counter, and gave the bartender her friendliest smile.
 
Aelar enters the tavern last and silently as if he was invisible from the heavy rain. As he crosses the threshold he wipes the rain off his mossy covered armor. He follows his companions over to the table of gypsys. His mind suddenly goes back to sitting in the grass during the sunrise with Vadoma from the Zarovan clan of the Vistani. He remembered her telling him "A claim is a fickle thing. The green wishes to claim, seeks to claim, but in the end it shall be claimed as well....."Tell me, child. What would you seek to claim?".... like it was yesterday. These people reminded him of the Vistani.

Aelar snaps out of the day dream to the sound of Davavor mentioning trees to build a wall. "Maybe they like the trees right where they are Davavor" Aelar said in a half-joking, half-serious manner, "you know some of us like the trees....still in the ground".

Aelar overheard Shae asking the innkeeper about a room. It would be nice to sleep inside for once, although under a great oak under the stars was preferred. Aelar looks over at Shae and flips her a coin to pitch in for a room and some food "Hey Shae, take this". Aelar didn't drink ale though, he thought it clouded hid mind and judgement and he needed to be sharp at all times.

As soon as Dav got finished talking to the gypsies he asked them about the Vistani and if they knew them. He mentioned he met a great friend named Vadoma and if they had heard of her.
 
The vistani gathered around the table only glare in response to Davavors question. They seem to have little interest in conversation with the half-elf, even muttering something in a language the group doesn't understand, however it sounds rude.

However Aelar's mention of Vadoma brightens the biggest ones face, "Vadoma? She is my cousin! I am Alenka." Before you can resist he grabs you by the shoulders and kisses both of your cheeks, his breath smells of garlic. His grip is like a pair of iron manacles clapped on your arms. Luckily before you loose circulation; he releases you and instead wraps an arm around you.

"This is Mirabel, and Sorvia. come, you sit with us and drink! When did you see her?"
Cheers from the other smaller man Sorvia, and the raven hair woman Mirable. They raise glasses and offer one to you. Interestingly enough they still don't pay and mind to Davavor.

The short pudgy fellow tending bar, nods in acknowledgement of Shae's questions. He finishes mindlessly cleaning the glass he'd been working on for far too long and waddles over to a cauldron by the fire. He ladles out four wood bowls of a thin stew. Emaciated as the stew is you find your stomach's yearning for it's warmth. He places them on the bar in front of you and in a low hollow voice answers your question, "stew is five copper. The common room upstairs will cost you one raven apiece." His expression is one of tired boredom. He glances over at his rag and glassware, apparently eager to stop interaction with people and return to his routine.
 
Davavor straightens up, "Well, I can take a hint." he says sneering at the Vistani. He makes his way over to the middle aged man, "What's their deal?" he says, taking a seat next to the man, gesturing to the now more jovial Vistani. The half-elf raises his hand for the bartenders attention, requesting a drink before offering the hand to the middle aged man, "Davavor." he says in greeting.
 
"Ismark the Lesser. They are vistani, they care only for themselves." His eyes betray an obvious distaste for the vistani, the only crack is his otherwise stoic expression.
His eyes look over your outlandish appearance, clearly he had very little experience with your kind. "You are not from here yes? From where do you travel?
 
Wookie Nookie said:
"Ismark the Lesser. They are vistani, they care only for themselves." His eyes betray an obvious distaste for the vistani, the only crack is his otherwise stoic expression.
His eyes look over your outlandish appearance, clearly he had very little experience with your kind. "You are not from here yes? From where do you travel?
Click to expand...

Davavor glances over at the Vistani silently agreeing with Ismark's impression of them, "
 
Wookie Nookie said:
"Ismark the Lesser. They are vistani, they care only for themselves." His eyes betray an obvious distaste for the vistani, the only crack is his otherwise stoic expression.
His eyes look over your outlandish appearance, clearly he had very little experience with your kind. "You are not from here yes? From where do you travel?
Click to expand...

Davavor glances over at the Vistani silently agreeing with Ismark's impression of them, "Daggerford, of the Sword Coast." he answers, taking for granted that everyone knows where the Sword Coast is, "It's not more than a day or two from here. Just past those massive gates we walked through before arriving here. Thankfully, we met a merchant, Barov Fellona, that guided us safely here. Do you know him?"[/B]
 
Shae caught the coin, and nodded at Aelar before putting down the rest of the copper. “This should cover four bowls of food. And for the room, er...” she leaned in closer, friendly smile still firmly in place. “How much copper is in a raven, again?”
 
"Nice to meet you all" Aelar says as he sits in an empty chair at the table with the Vistani, " Mind if I sit?".

"I travelled with Vadoma and their group for many days. They were very nice and inviting. I slept on top of one of their carts at night in exchange for my knowledge of the woods and my hunting skills. Was Vadoma…." he took a long pause as to not offend the Vistani "blind? She told me that she did not see as I saw. Either way she was very wise and gave me some good advice. I owe her a lot and I consider the Vistani my home away from home."

Aelar glances around the table at the intricately dressed group. He felt safe around this people and was glad to see some friendly faces.

"What are you doing in this strange place? Why aren't you travelling with Vadoma?"
 
"our friend, you are welcome here. This is our tavern. Yes yes, very strange, Vistani that own tavern, but we still travel when the road beckons." They pour Aelar a generous glass of wine, and slide a shakutery board over. Given the general state of the tavern it's an obvious sign of wealth in comparison. "Vadoma was no mere Vistani, she was a seer. One who sees the future and speaks to the spirits. A truly rare gift few posses." Their tones are secretive, clearly others in the tavern are not meant to have this information.


Isamark raises an eyebrow, "If you are truly not of this land then you are not in league with the devil Strahd. I would be cautious of strangers you do not know Mr. Davavore, especially those you meet on the road. Not everyone you meet is as they seem." He furrows his brows, the creases on his forehead betray how much time he spends in such concern.
"I may have a proposal for you and your company, something best not discussed here..." His eyes dart to the colourful figures by the door, "come to the Burgomisters house tomorrow before noon and we shall discuss it further." He rises and leaves 3 gold coins on the table. A hawkish unfamiliar face looks back from the coins..."for your lodgings."


Over at the bar, the innkeeper takes the appropriate amount of silver from your hand, examining the coins for weight. Judging them true, he wordlessly makes his way back to the glasses he was previously cleaning
 
"Well bless my feet, I haven't seen a nicer looking tavern in ages." Willan poked around, admiring the craftsmanship, smiling and nodding to the scant few people here.

Willan climbed into a seat at the bar next to Shae, "What deliciousness did you order us dear? Meat pies I hope?" Willan's optimistic expression faltered for only a second when the sorry looking stew was placed before him. "Weeeeell, look at this umm... delightful cornucopia." He tried his best to chat with the bar tender but the fellow barely made eye contact, insisting on scrubbing that glass. So much for civilization. He had better conversations with the acorns on the way here.

The barkeep's lethargy irked Willan. "Whatcha got planned for breakfast? If you've some pork, spices, flour and butter I be happy to whip up some of my Pa's breakfast pies. It's well worth the effort let me tell you. I'm usually the first one awake anyhow and I can do it with my eyes closed. Yessir just point me to the kitchen and everyone will have a good start to their day."

As the barkeep continued to ignore him, Willan turned to Shae and rolled his eyes. "At least Aelar is making friends."
 
Davavor's eyes linger on the face of the coins and a chill runs down his spine. He collects one in his hand, replacing it with a gold coin of his own, to keep as a novelty upon his return.

He walks languidly to the door way, watching Ismark disappear into the dark, shuddering at the seeming ill omen. He makes his way to Wilan and Shae, eyeing Aeler, "We will need all the friends we can get here, I fear." the Half-Elf tries to get the barkeeps attention, "Who is that man, Ismark? and Strahd? Is he the lord of this land?"
 
Shae snorted, “Right now I’ll take about anythin’ as long as it’s hot. If you can get your hands on the ingredients I would love ta try one of your Pa’s pies, though.” She glanced between Aelar, and the Vistani, and hummed. “Bring a bowl to Aelar, will ya?”

The soup did look terrible, and Shae found herself debating even trying it. She took a sip as Dav approached them and grimaced. “Gods that’s vile. I almost regret wishing for anythin’ warm.” She sighed. Dav didn’t seem to have any more luck than she did. “Friends seem to be I’m short supply, unfortunately. I couldn’t catch the bartender in time to get ya an ale, but we at least have food and beds for the night. I don’t expect much from the beds, given... this” she gestured at the soup.
 
The portly barkeep sneers, "Ismark the lesser is the Burgomisters brat. Never done nothin' 'mportant but sit in here and drink wine with 'is daddy's money." He snatches a good coin from your hand before you can blink and holds it up between his indeed finger and thumb, Strahds face visible. "LORD Strahd, as he should be rightfully called, has always been good to this establishment. His tax collectors leave us alone, and he's a good friend to the owners." He juts his chin toward the vistani seated at the table.
Pocketing the coin he returns to his glassware, mumbling something about local government and no respect for the crown.

A call from one of the vistani, "you ask many questions and presume much outsider. If you truly wish to know the tale of the great general then sit and listen. It will only cost you a bottle of good wine." Their earlier opposition to your presence has seemed to have eroded with their liking of their current company and the absence of Ismark.
 
Willan listened as the barkeep finally engaged in conversation but, hearing what he had to say, wished he hadn't. Glancing back at Shae, "Maybe some other time for the pies darlin' but I'd be happy to take Aelar his bowl aaaaand relocate myself to some.. aah, more pleasant company."

Gingerly cradling the 'precious' cargo of steaming soup, he awkwardly slunk off the too-high stool and made his way over to Aelar and the Vistani. He managed to make eye contact with Aelar and questioningly held up the bowl and nodded to an empty seat. Thankfully Aelar got the hint and gave Willan a brief introduction.

"Well met! My name is Willan! This is a fine establishment indeed and I'm glad to be here but do tell me a bit about...", Willan placed the bowl in front of Aelar as he hummed in thought, "... was it called Bavaria? I've traveled plenty but I can't say I've heard of it. Strange indeed as it doesn't seem like we've traveled that far from Daggerford. My companions and I have been hunting children stealing wolves and somehow ended up here. Where exactly are we?"

Just before his rear hit the seat he popped back up, "Oh, but please, before I settle down to hear your stories, we need that drink." Willan hustled back to the bar and called out to the bartender. "Lets have two bottles of wine. I have a feeling these stories will pair nicely with a deep red."
 
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