RandomWombat
As so often is said, it was a dark and stormy night. The sort of night that no amount of praying, nor chests of gold cast into the sea, can appease. The waves churned below, tossing the ship hither and fro, and a man could scarcely see five feet before his eyes - so thick and oppressive the fog upon the water.

Kellon had been hired to guide the ship of a crew of pirate hunters. Rumors had spidered out of ghost ships in the night, manned by beastly creatures not entirely man nor wolf. Such tall tales, Kellon had come to expect out of the fishermen and sailors. But they had seemed so far from the awesome power of nature that he had come to know, so ephemeral next to its booming and swirling anger.

Until this night, he had not known that power can be in silence, as it can be in rage. Nothing in him had sensed its approach, nothing in the weather predicted it. And even as the storm raged around them, there was silence. The stillness of the grave muffling the cries of the sailors. Muffling the cracking of wood as the ship ran aground. Muffling the splash as he hit the water.


How long has it been? Feet sluggish, arms drooping, Kellon finds himself wandering through a dense fog. Its wetness clinging to his face and choking his tongue with a paradoxical dryness. All around him as he walks, he can feel it move, curl, clutch at his arms and legs and shell like spectral hands.  "Lost."  It whispers. The voice in the mist.  "Listen."  It worms into his ears, like a parasite. All around him it tingles, with every swirl of the fog, every slither of its currents.  "Learn."  It tells him, his tired mind, his thoughts dragging through mud and trying to comprehend.

 "Wake up." 

Ahead, he can feel it before he sees it. The mist clearing. On the other side, an expanse of darkness. Infinite black of the void. For a moment, it seems this is the end of the road. Is this death?


Then his eyes snap open, as he gasps for breath. The sound of running water to his left, his arm lying in its cold current. He is on his chest, lying in the mud of a riverbank. To his right are trees, bushes, thorny thickets and gnarled branches that loom above, jagged like bolts of thunder stretched across a grey and overcast sky.

Across the water to his left... the other bank is unseen. A thick fog is slowly rolling in, advancing across the surface of the water like a thousand serpents crawling through the grass, weaving between and around river stones. The longer he looks at the fog, the more Kellan feels that sluggishness from his dream creep into his bones. The fog is bad. This he knows, instinctively.
Prehysterical
In those dark moments before disaster, Kellon wondered in his heart if he had somehow betrayed the Tempest's trust and was punished with the most frightful storm one can imagine: one with no warning. Even the crash of thunder murmured like a distant brook, lightning invisible and reduced to causing the unearthly mist to glow ever so slightly brighter. Was it because he had taken the hunters' coin, using his gifted talents for his own profit? In the horrible, unbearable silence of the mist enshrouding the vessel, Kellon's thoughts swelled and roared like an advancing tidal wave. The sailors' questions and demands fell upon deaf earholes as Kellon stared out into the impenetrable mist, trying to glean some sort of clue out of its appearance. It was almost a relief when the ship struck rock, the slightest stimulation to prove that they had not merely sailed into a ghostly afterlife. That split-second of sensation instantly lost its value as Kellon felt himself catapulted through the air, the ship crashing with such violence that even his hundreds of pounds of weight were sent arcing like stones from a catapult. He didn't even feel himself hit the water, lost in a daze and feeling uncharacteristically weak as he began to sink.

If it had had the spare energy, his mind would have reeled at finding himself wandering through fog instead of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Kellon would have preferred the latter, if only for the honesty of the sharks making a meal of him on the way down instead of being drained and probed by this fog so clearly unnatural and invasive. It is only his natural drive that keeps him moving forward, instinctively seeking the exit from this planescape of torment. Was this what the drowned saw in their final moments? Imaginings of being lost in a fog because the thought of dying alone in the open ocean was too much for a mind to bear? This was not how Kellon would have envisioned his death. He had always envisioned his death with a crash and a roar, not a whimper...

The void stretches before him. He cannot go back; he must go forward, whatever the outcome...

Breath raggedly enters his lungs as Kellon's eyes snap open. He can feel and hear the mud churning under his shell as he moves. He can feel the cold water trickling over his arm, hear it churn and ripple over the intruding limb. He can hear! The foul mist is gone! Rising quickly to his clawed feet, Kellon takes stock of his surroundings. His entire frame swivels as he examines the treeline and searches for the opposite bank. Cold blood runs colder as Kellon sees,  feels , the fog from his dream returning. Despite lacking any hair, the spikes of Kellon's shell allowed him to bristle convincingly.  "Would that I could blow you away in a hurricane's gust,"  Kellon cursed in an uncharacteristic hushed hiss. He needed to move. Before panic and survival could overtake him, however, Kellon needed to take stock of his possessions... and make at least a token attempt to see if anyone else survived.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
So, which way is left? The trees or the water? You used left for both of them.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
A slip of the mind as I was typing, the water was supposed to be to his left, the trees to his right.
 


A quick skim of his possessions finds Kellon's pack safely upon his person - albeit soaking wet, which may not do wonders for the longevity of his emergency rations. His crossbow remains strapped to the pack, but his warhammer is nowhere in sight.

Then, almost as if Poseidon had heard a silent prayer, there is the sharp clank of metal against rock, like a thunderstrike. Just a few feet out into the water, shallow enough to wade, a warhammer has been caught between a river stone and a tree root.

Across the river, through the fog, Kellon can hear the muffled sounds of sloshing footsteps. A shadowed figure wades out from the other bank, a good twenty or more feet out and perhaps further beyond the fog. It seems that the river is not deep here, and fordable were it not for that spectral wall in the way.

A slightly familiar face wanders out, with deep bags under her eyes and a shambling in her step. An elven woman, one of the sailors from the ship. Her name escapes Kellon for the moment. She is clad in a plain brown tunic and has a large spiked club strapped to her back, with rust-colored hair tied back behind her and a few dark-colored tattoos on her neck. Her eyes are distant as she falls forward into the water and begins to be swept downcurrent. The fog continues to advance, uncaring, behind her.
Prehysterical
All things considered, a soaking wet pack and its contents were better than none at all. Fortunately, Kellon had had the foresight to have his crossbow carved from driftwood so that it would not bloat or warp when exposed to seawater. It seemed like the warhammer was the price to pay for his life and the rest of his possessions, but the clanking scrape of metal against rock and water glimmering off of the weapon's head would have brought a smile to Kellon's face were his beak capable of such an expression.

At first, the sound of stamping splashes puts Kellon on his guard. Upon seeing the elf woman's familiar face, however, his alarm dulls to wariness. Kellon can see the weariness in her eyes that he himself had felt in that strange dream fugue of the fog. Before he could ask a question or snap her out of her torpor, the sailor woman faceplants into the water and the current begins to tug on her as if greedily seizing its prize. The wall of fog keeps advancing and Kellon has a split-second of torn decision-making. He clenches and pumps his fists in annoyance at this obvious dilemma.  "Damnation!"  Kellon surges forward, trying desperately to rescue the elf.
RandomWombat
The river, as luck would have it, hides no sheer drops that would send the tortle under. Kellon is able to wade out into the water, though it soon reaches the point where swimming would be faster if he intends to catch up with the elf before she is swept away - or lost in the gossamer shroud.

 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
Kellon may make an Athletics check. The river is not flowing terribly fast, but this will determine whether they are overtaken by the Mist before he can get back to shore.
Along with the Athletics check, he can roll a contingent Constitution save against the Mist's effects, should the Athletics check fail.
 
Prehysterical
Athletics check:  (1d20+4)[ 7 ] 
 
 Spoiler: Contingent Con check 
 (1d20+1)[ 17 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Though he is swift in the water, Kellon is accustomed to the open waters of the sea. His bulky shell bumps several times into river stones, slowing him or sending him off course. By the time he reaches the woman and begins to drag her away, the Mists are advancing past them. As Kellon pulls in a breath, he feels his mouth dried by its touch as if he'd swallowed a cloud of dust, bringing him to a coughing fit.

Pulling the elven woman out on the bank of the river, the Mists are right behind them now, looming far above like a wall as tall as the sky. The dark woods lie ahead. She is coughing and slowly coming back to her senses as she crawls up onto dry land and starts staggering away from the wall of fog. She tries to say something, but it is lost to another coughing fit as she grabs onto a tree for balance.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Kellon and the elven woman have each suffered a level of Exhaustion; for her, another one.
 
Prehysterical
Damned rivers! Why did they have to have so many things to run into?! Only Kellon's fearsome strength lets him save the woman at all, but the fog creeps over both of them. The air is foul, stealing moisture and vitality from him instead of restoring it.

Looking back, Kellon feels a sense of sheer dread as the mist marches forward just as mercilessly as the fiercest thunderheads or a looming tsunami. Fortunately, the woman stops being dead weight and stumbles desperately to her feet. Her disorientation is understandable, but Kellon knows that this is a test for both of them. He moves forward and shoves the woman forward into the treeline, his bulk and strength making it an easy proposition. Kellon's voice is raspy from the effects of the fog, making him seem even more like haggard flotsam.  "Can't stop. You stop, you die. Keep going." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
If the woman makes no effort to move, Kellon will go on without her.
If the woman moves forward but isn't moving fast enough, Kellon will do what he can to help.

In all cases, Kellon will try to get his warhammer if he can make it before the fog reaches them.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
The warhammer is within arm's reach from shore, so he can grab it as he makes his way into the woods.

On a side note, let me know if the elf's shade of green is too bright to see well.
 


The elf nods weakly and begins trudging into the woods. Her steps are ponderous, as though she is trying to wade through molasses. Her eyes are unfocused and she is visibly struggling to pry open their lids enough to see where she is going. With a guiding hand from Kellon, she is able to keep up - well enough, at least, to outpace the fog wall and leave it behind them out of view. But Kellon can tell, in his gut, that its inexorable march has not ceased.

Ahead, they can hear the thwack of an arrow and the yowl of a beast.   "Hunters?"   she manages to utter, uncertainly. The two of them break through to the other side of a treeline, where they can see a sloped hill ahead and open fields beyond. There are four wolves ahead - one dead with two arrows embedded in its head and side, and another injured with an arrow protruding from one limping leg. Atop the hill are a trio of humans of fair complexion and dark hair, garbed in bleak browns and greys.

One of the men, wearing a floppy cap, notices the two emerge and points in horror.  "By the Mornin'lord, Andri, what sort of mongrelfolk is that?"  he shouts, elbowing one of his comrades and pointing in Kellon's direction. The other men gawk and back away. As the wolves snap, snarl, and lunge closer, the three hunters turn tail and run.

The wolves do not give chase, sensing the threat emerging behind them. The two uninjured wolves move between Kellon and his wobbly elf, and the injured wolf, snarling with their teeth bared. The beasts' positioning puts them unfortunately straight in the path away from the encroaching Mists.

  "****,"   the woman reaches up and fumbles with her greatclub, unslinging it and letting it drop to the ground beside her, handle in both hands.   "I must look like..."   she coughs again.   "Easy prey."  
 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
If Kellon wishes to try and bypass the wolves, he can attempt Animal Handling alongside whatever he tries. The yet unnamed elf will provide a Help action, giving him Advantage on the roll (roll twice and take the better result). This cancels out the  Exhaustion  penalty he is currently experiencing, which inflicts Disadvantage on Ability checks (roll twice and take the worst result).

If he feels it would take too much time, he can roll Initiative instead and try to fight their way past. Initiative is a Dex-based Ability check, so it would also have Disadvantage.

The elf woman currently has Level 3 Exhaustion, giving her significant movement and combat penalties.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon was surprised to hear signs of other humanoids so quickly. He only hoped that they were not hostile to outsiders... Their sudden arrival into open space catches Kellon by surprise. Wherever they were, this was no island like he was used to. It is obvious that these hunters are being cornered by the wolves, but before Kellon can offer assistance, the trio point to him in horror and flee. Kellon has no time to be insulted as the wolves turn to new targets. His gut tells him that they cannot afford prolonged combat with the wolves. Even if his rescued sailor survived the encounter, the mist crept ever closer to them.

Through the slight fog in his own mind, Kellon replies to her,  "Well, I am not."  Kellon's beak clicks a single syllable as he steps forward, unafraid of the wolves. When he speaks, his voice booms like thunder as the storm lends him its voice.  "SHARKS OF THE FOREST, BEGONE! NO MEAL HERE FOR YOU TODAY BUT DEATH!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Rolling for Handle Animal with Advantage
 (1d20+3)[ 18 ] 
 (1d20+3)[ 14 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Stepping forward behind Kellon and lifting herself up to be larger and less like prey, the elven woman swings an arm to the side and calls out after him,   "Get! Begone!"   Kellon can hear her hoarse voice straining not to crack. But their loud display and lack of fear have shaken the wolves, who take a few steps back, still snarling and baring their teeth.

Thinking better of getting into this scrap, one of the wolves grabs the dead one by its neck and drags it away, the injured one limping behind. The third remains between them and the two shipwrecked sailors, not moving its eyes from them until the beasts have reached the treeline and skulked away.

The way is clear, and the elf droops back down with a sigh, walking forward again. The grass beneath them is slippery and slick, as if with dew. But between his taloned toes, Kellon can feel the dew is slicker than water, leaving a gross-feeling residue on his feet, like slime or blood. Yet a glance can see that it is clear as water. More than once on their way up the hill, the elf slips and has to struggle back to her feet.

From the hilltop, open fields stretch out around them. The open is broken sporadically by thickets and more patches of trees, and hilly. No sun can be seen in the sky, its light diluted and cast everywhere as a grey curtain through the clouds. More menacing is the Mist closing in from all directions, creeping out of the treeline like gnarled fingers.

Yet not all is bleak. Ahead, they can see the three hunters ahead of them still running, having gained a significant lead. And they are running towards the silhouette of a town.
Prehysterical
It takes a bit longer than Kellon would have liked, but the fight is avoided. The two of them move forward again, uncomfortably aware of the ooze generously called water beneath their feet. He has to help his ward one or twice as they scramble up the hill away from impending doom. Kellon looks up and hisses at the lack of a sun.  "Another bad omen... Have the gods shut their eyes to this place?" 

Each passing moment gives the fog more and more resemblance to an incoming tide as it pours out of the treeline. Kellon points after the fleeing hunters.  "Fond of outsiders, they are not, but that town is our only chance. Make haste!" 
RandomWombat
  "Going,"   the elf responds, taking a step down the other side of the hill. She slips again and goes sliding down, rolling through the grass at the bottom. With a groan, she gets back up and wipes some of the ooze off of her arms in disgust.   "What is this?"   she asks tiredly, and it's not clear if she's speaking to anyone, or just to herself as she continues to force herself forward.

It is a long walk through the dreary field. The ambient light begins to fade, the sunset carrying an eerie blue or purple tinge instead of the warm pinks, ambers and oranges of the sun setting over the sea. It appears that they had the misfortune to arrive near dusk. Ahead of them there is the flickering light of a small campfire, and two of the hunters with their bows drawn.

 "Hold on. Hold on!"  one of the hunters raises his shortbow, though he doesn't draw back his arrow yet.  "Creature. What are you?" 

The second hunter looks towards the elf, narrowing his glaring, suspicious eyes.  "A female duskie? Thought the King killed them all." 
  "What... is a duskie?"   she responds, her club dragging behind her as she steps up beside Kellon.

 "The ears!"  the second hunter points at her head.  "You've the sharp ears. Like the duskies, the nighteyes." 

No sign can be seen of the third hunter, the one called Andri. But behind the campfire is an old road, barely a worn dirt path where many people have walked. It stretches from the east to the west - the cardinal directions finally having become clear along with the direction of sunset.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Also, not sure if the roll20 link in the OOC thread works without a  game invite , so here is one.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Yeah, it wouldn't let me in without an invite.
 


Kellon himself slips down the hill, but his shell only seems to serve as a sled on top of the vile sludge. He is thankful that he cannot feel its disgusting muck on his hard shell like he can in the sensitive webbing between his toes. He says nothing in response to her question, lacking a single clue to answer truthfully.

While there is some small comfort to be found in finally establishing the position of the sun, the sky feels...  wrong . The colors are muted, choked, and stifled by the oppressive atmosphere of this country. They approach the campfire, apprehensive about confronting the hunters from earlier.

It seems as though coldbloods are not the only unwanted guests in these lands. Kellon had never heard an elf referred to as a "duskie", but the term did not sound flattering at all. He spreads his arms wide, showing that he is unarmed. His voice speaks with confidence, his tone measured like a sermon.  "I am Kellon, herald of the Tempest."  The bronze of his trident-headed amulet gleams in the firelight.  "I am a tortle; my folk are of the ocean isles. That is why I am lost. Our ship wrecked in a foul storm and we have been stranded in this strange country."  He looks pointedly around at the sky.  "I can see why you call upon Lathander in a place of such vile mist and feeble light. Tell me, what happened to the other hunter? Andri, his name was? He was not hurt by the wolves, was he?"  Perhaps if Kellon shows that he is no threat, these landlubbers will tell them where they are.
RandomWombat
The broad stance of the turtle only seems to intimidate the hunters more, as the nearer of the two - the one facing him with bow ready - takes another step back.  "Ocean?"  the man asks, in confusion.  "The ocean is only a myth." 

Before more can be said, the answer of Andri's location becomes clear. From the gloom of the nearby buildings, across the road and up a slight incline, walks a man flanked by several other townsfolk. They are dressed in bland cloth tunics and trousers draped around gaunt, hunched forms, and wearing perpetual scowls. The blue light of the dusk sets their faces an eerie hue, streaked with long shadows.

One of the men carries a torch, its flame giving a more familiar, comforting red hue to the light around him. Comforting were it not for his fear and hate filled eyes locked onto the tortle.Two more flank him, carrying a pitchfork and a hoe. To the side of the men is a woman in a bloody apron, carrying a butcher's cleaver. Her hair is held back in a net.

Lastly, leading their pack, is Andri - the third of the three hunters.  "We are here,"  he tells the other two, reassuringly, though his voice wavers with doubt.

 "The creature speaks of the legendary ocean,"  the first hunter speaks again, informing Andri.

 "Ocean?"  the woman crows in a shrill voice.  "Wait. That is no mongrelfolk, you fool menfolk,"  she points her cleaver at Kellon.  "Look at their garb, their weapons. These are outlanders." 
 "Outlanders?"  the man with the torch keeps his eyes locked on Kellon. The two with farming equipment remain silent, and if their stares could kill Kellon would be dead twice over.

 "Said they were 'shipwrecked'. They got a female duskie-"  the second hunter points at the elf again.

  "I'm an elf,"   she corrects him this time, starting to get her breath back after a few moments standing. And for every moment standing, Kellon can sense the Mist growing nearer as it encircles the village.   "Where are we?"  
 "Why, you're in Barovia, lass,"  the human woman answers, waving her butcher's cleaver around emphatically at their surroundings.  "My condolences." 
Prehysterical
A sense of unease grows in Kellon as the hunters deny his words and what can only be a lynch mob approaches from the settlement. He does not back down from the torchbearer's gaze, looking back with eyes colored like a clear ocean sky. Even as this confrontation played out, Kellon could feel his skin prickle as the Mist creeped ever closer. Dropping his arms in an attempt to calm the hunters, Kellon makes a request.  "I know nothing of these lands, save that the Mist here is more foul than any threat I have ever come across. Even as we speak, it creeps in toward this village. I request sanctuary for the both of us. We have already been exposed to the Mist and death will find us quickly if we do not find shelter. I ask not for charity; I can provide healing or fresh water as payment for your hospitality." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion check:  (1d20+3)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "The Mists are coming?"  Andri parrots, looking out past Kellon. Indeed, behind him it has begun to crest the hills since past, and glide down them in rivers of pale white.  "He's right! We must get to shelter." 

The hunter whose bow is still lowered goes to the fire and starts to stamp it out, but the other grabs him by the arm and pulls him back towards the mob.  "The Mists will snuff the fire, leave it!"  Both of them shoot another look at Kellon, but retreat towards the village without another word.

 "I'm not having outlanders at my house! Nothing but trouble,"  the man with the pitchfork declares, turning around and following on his neighbors' heels. None of the others seem particularly keen on having two strange houseguests either and begin to fall back.

The butcher, at least, offers them some parting words:  "You'll find yourselves the tavern near the center of the village... keeper doesn't much care if guest is outlander, if they have coin."  With that she turns and hikes up her skirt to join the others retreating to their homes.

The elven woman beside Kellon finally slings her club onto her back once more.   "Quite the welcoming committee... legendary ocean? Where in the Hells are we?"   she asks the question quietly, as she starts another tired march up towards the buildings over the road.
Prehysterical
Hardly the open arms that Kellon had been hoping for, but at least they had avoided an unnecessary bloodbath. What irony that the butcher should prove to be the most diplomatic of the bunch... Kellon didn't have much coin to his name, but maybe a few gold would convince the innkeep to at least tolerate their presence for one night. As he trudges forward, Kellon replies facetiously to his companion's question.  "Didn't you hear? We're in Barovia!

...Wherever in the Abyss that is." 
RandomWombat
  "Guess I can't say which, never been to the Hells  or  the Abyss,"   the elf responds dryly, as they move. Not far to their right, they see a fork in the road that leads up into down, likely a main road used by traders and the sort.

Walking into the village, they find it a gloomy vision. The homes are old, with peeling paint and poorly kept porches, and their owners pointedly shut the blinds or close the shutters whenever Kellon's eyes drift their way. Many have the look of old money that has dried up, homes that at one time must have been quite nice. While the road outside of the village was little more than dirt, the streets inside are gravel. Some patches are missing or filled with holes, leaving the streets bumpy and uncomfortable to walk on.

 "A-a- aaaahaaaagh!" 

Their walking is interrupted by a sound from the north, as they arrive at a four way intersection. The sound of a very small boy crying. Up the road, they can see two human children in the middle of the road, in front of a particularly tall, thin and worn down brick row house with cobwebs on the windows and eaves. The boy is sitting on the ground crying, with a cloth doll clutched in his little hands. A hooded jacket is bundled up around him and shrouds his crying face, save for the tears streaming down his cheeks. An older girl is kneeling next to him, trying to shush and comfort him. She is wearing a high-collared cloak.

The girl looks up, hearing the clunk of Kellon's hammer against his shell as he walks.  "H-hello?"  She looks at the two of them in awe.  "What are you? Can you help us?"  She points at the tall scarecrow of a house.  "Please! There's a monster in our house!"  The boy stops crying and looks up at Kellon uncertainly.

On either side of the house are abandoned homes, their doors and windows boarded up. A gated portico on the ground floor of the indicated home hangs open, its rusty gate creaking in the wind. Next to the gate is a water damaged copper plaque with a family name that Kellon has trouble making out.

In spite of her condition, the elf doesn't seem to hesitate before going over to try and calm the children.   "Where are your parents? Did they just leave you out here? Easy, easy."   She squats down and holds up her hands, making sure not to reach for them and set the boy off again.   "It's dangerous to be outside right now, can we talk inside?"  
 "Mama and papa keep the monster trap in basement,"  the boy answers with a slight lisp, between a gap in his two front teeth.

 "We're not going back inside until the monster is  gone ,"  the girl insists, hugging her presumed little brother tighter against her leg.
Prehysterical
The whole place reeks of misery, an animal living on the last of its fat. Kellon finds himself confused by the villagers' behavior. If they despise outsiders so much, why just leave them be? Why not run them out of town? They didn't seem afraid to use violence...

Fierce wailing and sobbing shatters Kellon's resentful contemplation. They move up to investigate the source of the noise, surprised to see children out in the street at this hour. He finds their clothing strange, but it seems better made than the rags worn by the rest of the townsfolk. While the elf tries to comfort the children, Kellon can just barely make out the name on the plaque. It is nice for once to be regarded merely as strange and not a "monster" in his own right.

He finally turns to speak to the frightened young ones.  "We are outsiders, but we will help you, little one. Quickly now, what does the monster look like?" 
RandomWombat
The boy sniffs a trail of snot from his nose back up into the nostril and whimpers,  "I down know... we never see the monster." 
 "But we can hear it howling from the basement,"  the girl adds.  "A terrible howling like the wolves." 
 "What will we do if monster gobbles mama and papa?"  the boy asks, lip quivering and voice wavering again. His sister pulls back his hood, revealing short brown hair, and runs a hand through the bristles.

 "Ssssh, hush little Thorn, don't be afraid. Big sister will make sure nothing bad ever happens to you." 

The elf stands up and looks at the house. She walks over into the entryway with Kellon. Inside the portico are two hanging oil lamps, unlit. Beyond them is an impressive, sturdy oak door, slightly ajar. She reaches out and tugs on the handle, and it swings open to reveal a foyer. It, too, is unlit, though another lamp with oil ready in it is sitting on a small side table. On the south wall, to their right, is a shield mounted on the wall with a coat of arms, that of a golden windmill standing over a red field. Flanking the shield are portraits of stony faced aristocrats with the characteristic hard-knock look of the Barovian people they have met thus far, but with clothes of fine quality like the children have.

At the other end of the dark foyer is a set of mahogany doors.

Looking to Kellon, the elf asks,   "Should we go check it out?"   She adds in a quieter voice,   "We can check quickly, then lie to them and say there's no monster before we search more. They can't stay outside with that Mist coming."  

And indeed, it has not stopped. In fact, Kellon can sense it drawing closer with growing speed, already encircling them as if swirling and probing the edges of the town for its lost prey. For all the storms and weather Kellon has faced, never has one  hunted  him so.
Prehysterical
There must be something that Kellon is missing. How could the rest of the village be so heartless that the sobs of a scared child do nothing to stir aid? Apparently, their blood was colder than his own...

After inspecting the foyer, Kellon turns his stumpy neck and nods his agreement.  "I will go on ahead. Bring the children into the foyer. Protect them while I investigate. If I am not back by the time that the Mist clears, take the children to the tavern. If this monster should prove deadly, I will not go quietly..." 

Kellon lifts the spare lamp from the side table and lights it before fetching his warhammer from its sling. Armed and illuminated, Kellon ventures past the mahogany doors.
RandomWombat
The elf follows behind him, stepping into the foyer and watching through the mahogany doors as he investigates.

With lamp in hand, held by a brass handle that allows it to hang as a lantern, Kellon steps through. He finds himself in the main hall, running the width of the house. Contrary to the exterior, everything in here looks much fairer, better maintained, and newer. Just to his left is an unlit black marble fireplace, with logs and kindling inside a small metal grate. Above the mantle is a longsword mounted on the wall, and much like the shield it possesses a windmill cameo worked into the hilt. In front of the fireplace, a few paces away, is a trophy rug made from a whole wolf's hide, head and all. To the right, across the room, is a red marble staircase that curves around, leading to the second floor. The wood panel walls and the railings of the staircase are decorated with imagery of vines and flowers, and a sculpture of a frolicking nymph and satyr decorates the room as a centerpiece.

There are several other doors, leading elsewhere in the house, but no sign of a basement staircase yet. As Kellon is about to begin searching further, the elf behind him gasps. She's turned around to call the children in, but when Kellon looks past her he can see them both standing calmly with the Mist at their backs, weaving its way through their bodies with white tendrils as if they were not there. Where it passes through them, their forms shimmer and drift apart like smoke and mirrors. Before they fade, consumed by the fog entirely, Kellon can see the older sister mouth two words with a desperate look in her eyes.

 
 Spoiler: Insight 
For the sake of narrative, I have rolled an Insight check to try and read her lips, but Kellon was unable to make out what she was saying.
 


As the elf is running for the door to close it before the Mist can come in, she jumps - a figure dashes around the corner of the portico and she nearly decks him in the face before he backs away and holds up his hands.  "Wh- hey hey hey!"  It is a bespectacled human man with a fuller complexion than the locals, and strange outlandish garb. He is dressed in a fine leather coat with a blue shirt underneath, and a pair of tailored trousers, leading down to equally fine leather shoes. His spectacles are even gilded with gold - or a good fake.

  "Who are you? Where are the children?!"  
 "Chil...dren?"  the man looks behind himself at the creeping mist, streaks of white already creeping around his heels like fungal hyphae.  "Didn't see any children, nope. May I please take shelter in your house? I'm really terribly lost, and the Mist, and..."  he pulls out a handkerchief and dabs sweat from his forehead.
Prehysterical
Compared to the squalor outside, the interior decorating seems positively lavish compared to what Kellon is used to. His head whips around at the shocked gasp of the elf and he feels his blood turn to ice as the children... not torn apart, but dissipated by the mist. No grinning specter, the girl seems desperate to tell him something, but Kellon cannot make the words out.

When the newcomer comes around the corner, Kellon instinctively takes a step forward with weapon raised to punish the ambusher. The intruder is not one of the townspeople or some cutthroat brigand, however, at least not obviously. It is disquieting to consider whether the two of them have gone mad or if the man pretended that he didn't see them, but the Mist is a threat that will not be ignored.  "Shut the damn door,"  Kellon orders with a shout shy of a roar, hoping to remind the elf of the immediate threat. As the man enters, Kellon steps back into the foyer and looks his fancy garb up and down. A thought occurs to him.

 "You're not from Barovia, either, are you?" 
RandomWombat
Kellon's shout reminds her, and the elf grabs the stammering man by the arm, practically hurling him inside at Kellon's bulky frame. She slams the door shut behind him - and locks it for good measure, whatever good it will do against the mist. But it seems that the malevolent weather is unwilling to enter the strange house... whether that is comforting or foreboding, is hard to tell.

The newcomer steps back after stumbling into Kellon's chest and adjusts his glasses, looking up at the tortle.  "Oh - you are... quite large. And menacing."  The man swallows with a gulp as the elf comes up behind him.  "Is that where we are? No, decidedly not. Hold on, do you mean...  Bavaria ?" 
  "No, Barovia. Unless the locals were pronouncing it wrong,"   the elf answers.   "I guess that means you don't know anything about where we are either, which is just our luck so far. Do you have a name?"   She asks, rubbing her tired eyes.

 "Of course, where are my manners,"  tucking away his handkerchief, the man offers a handshake to each of them in turn.  "Anton Burrel, novelist, perhaps you've heard of me?"  He takes note of her prominent ears and his brow creases in confusion again.

  "Not in the slightest. I'm Gweyir,"   her answer indirectly answering the unasked question of her name, Gweyir returns the human's handshake.
Prehysterical
For the immediate moment, they are safe. The Mist's reluctance to test the house's gaps leaves Kellon with mixed feelings. He brushes off the man's comments. This one looked as soft and weak as they came, a hollow and rigid reed that would snap at the first gust. The man seems just as confused as the villagers, but is obviously another outsider. What even was a 'novelist', anyway? Reluctantly, Kellon stows his warhammer and accepts the strange warmblood custom of handshaking, having to take care not to accidentally flay the man with his claws.  "Kellon,"  he says simply. Looking past the man as if he was yet another spirit, Kellon addresses Gweyir.  "I know that you are tired, Gweyir, but something strange is going on with this house. I refuse to rest until I know that this place is secure. We should go together, room by room, and check this place from top to bottom. Then we might actually have a chance at some rest in this gods-forsaken place." 
RandomWombat
  "Safety first when sleeping in haunted houses,"   Gweyir agrees without complaint, stepping out into the main hall. Her elven eyes don't have much trouble in the gloom outside the reach of Kellon's lantern.   "Where do you want to start?"  

The soft little man marvels at the shield on display, scrambling to catch up behind them only when the removal of Kellon's light leaves him in the dark.  "Haunted, you say?"  the man asks, with perhaps too much eagerness mixed into the nervousness.  "Perhaps I can be of some help, then." 

Turning to face him and looking him up and down, Gweyir pays him a doubtful quirked eyebrow.

 "Now, I may write fiction, but I  do  my research,"  Anton explains, holding up a finger.  "What is a horror writer without a passing knowledge of the occult, hm? A hack, that's what. Why, together we could have this place exorcised in a jiffy... er, I suppose we would need a  priest  for that, actually. But you know what I mean." 
  "Not sure I do,"   reaching up, Gweyir takes the longsword from above the mantle and tests its balance in her hand.   "Better than a club,"   she comments to herself, drawing it from its scabbard. The blade is polished and oiled, clearly well maintained, and there is a gleam of silver down its length.
Prehysterical
Kellon follows her into the main hall.  "Like I said, I think we should start upstairs first. The... children said that there might be something awful in the basement.  He shares Gweyir's skepticism. This clean-cut human, obviously born of privilege, an expert of spirits?  "As it just so happens,"  Kellon rumbles in annoyance,  "You are  looking  at a priest."  A free claw holds up the trident head of his amulet in emphasis.  "So, please, by all means, don't let that stop you." 
RandomWombat
Leaning forwards and holding his spectacles a little further down his nose, Anton examines the trident symbol.  "Aha, the symbol of Poseidon, god of the sea!"  He pushes his glasses back up and points at Kellon.  "I've figured it out. You are some variety of Atlantean, from a colony in the Ionian Sea! Am I correct?" 

Gewyir turns and looks at Kellon. If he meets her eye, she seems amused by the man's guesses. She walks over to one of the doors and opens it up, revealing a closet with some coat racks. There are warm-looking black coats hung up inside, as well as a black top hat hanging from a hat hook.
Prehysterical
At the very least, the man correctly identifies Kellon's god. The rest, however, is pure nonsense. Kellon's reply is curt.  "I am a tortle and those names mean nothing to me."  He rolls his eyes at Gweyir before heading upstairs. At this point, he would rather deal with restless spirits than this human's inane chatter...
RandomWombat
Not wanting to be left behind in the dark or alone, the other two climb up after Kellon. The red marble stairs hold his weight well, proving themselves sturdy.

In the upper hall they arrive in, there are four looming suits of armor, cast in eerie shadows by the firelight of the oil lamp. They stand on either side of the room, flanking wooden double doors with images of dancing youths upon them. The suits of armor each hold spears, and their helmets are sculpted into the shape of a wolf's head. More unlit oil lamps in ornate sconces adorn the walls.

Above another fireplace, situated above the one below and sharing a single chimney, is a large portrait of the Durst family, an oil painting with a wooden frame. The mother and father stand behind two smiling children, who Kellon recognizes as the apparitions from outside. In the father's arms lay a swaddled baby, which the mother seems to be eyeing with a hint of scorn.

The stairwell continues upwards past this floor, and from above the party can feel a cool draft.
Prehysterical
Kellon's gaze passes over the still suits of armor, suspicious of them in a place so haunted.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Perception
 (1d20+3)[ 5 ] 
 (1d20+3)[ 7 ] 
 


He looks sadly upon the family portrait on the wall. Things had not ended happily here, though who was to blame was unclear for the moment. Feeling the air from above, Kellon looks consideringly from the staircase to the fireplace.  "Do you think that the Mist might try to come down through the chimney? Perhaps the windows upstairs?" 
RandomWombat
None of the statues move an inch, their visors watching in the lamplight. Kellon lifts up one of the visors... and finds the structure of a wooden mannequin inside, holding the display together.

  "Do you want to go check?"   Gweyir looks up the stairwell towards the third floor. Beside her, Anton is trying to wiggle one of the other lamps out of its sconce - and he manages it. With a twist of the knob he switches it on, holding it by a structure around the base like a chamberstick.
Prehysterical
 "...Aye. Best be sure."  Kellon makes his way up the marble stairs to the third floor.
RandomWombat
Following the marble staircase to its conclusion, the party arrives at the top. Overlooking the staircase is a dusty indoor balcony. This floor has none of the finely maintained furnishing of the ones before. Straight ahead, against the wall, a suit of rusty black plate armor stands, draped in a cloak of cobwebs. The walls are decorated with woodland scenes of trees, falling leaves, and small woodland critters scampering to and fro. More oil lamps dot the wall, these ones clouded by a layer of dust and grime.

 "Well. It looks like the house servants quit halfway through,"  Anton comments, jokingly. Then he stops and flinches as the old wooden floor, scuffed by age and covered in a layer of dust that kicks up with every step, groans under Kellon's weight.

  "We should try not to bunch up here,"   Gweyir tells him, kneeling down a the top of the stairs to feel at the floorboards, pressing with her fingers.   "The wood is spongy, poorly maintained."  

The source of the draft seems to be a long crack in the wall over the staircase, through which a cold wind blows. Thankfully, no strands of gossamer Mist are slithering inside.
Prehysterical
Indeed, the inconsistency seems puzzling. Why would the previous two floors be so free of neglect and yet this one shows its proper age? His beak clacks together in unpleasant surprise as the wood protests under his weight. Kellon steps back to the safety of the marble staircase.  "I shall stay here, it seems. Check the rooms. Be careful." 
RandomWombat
  "Come on, then,"   Gweyir tugs at Anton's sleeve and leads him up, squeezing past Kellon on the stairwell. The two of them begin by walking towards the small alcove that turns around a corner, and the double doors inside. But as the two of them pass by the suit if black armor, a dim blue glow starts to awaken inside of it, shining through the slits of its visor like a pair of blazing eyes the color of Barovian sunset.

Before its sharp, rusted gauntlets can reach for Gweyir, her stolen sword is drawn and she takes a defensive stance.   "We've got trouble, Kellon!"   Just behind her, Anton yelps and snatches a small wooden stick from an interior pocket of his jacket.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
 Initiative time , as the animated armor attacks.
All party members pass a background Perception check to avoid being Surprised.

Gweyir: 6
Kellon: 4
Anton: 4
Animated Armor: 4

Yes, everyone rolled astonishingly low. For tied rolls I will favor PC -&gt; Ally -&gt; Enemy
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Gweyir uses the Dodge action, forcing attacks against her to be made at Disadvantage.
It is Kellon's turn.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon raises his warhammer as the plate mail reveals its hidden spirit.  "Behind me, you two!"  He points at the armor and invokes the searing heat of lightning.  "Skyfire!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Sacred Flame on the armor.
 
RandomWombat
A sphere of white flame manifests above the armor and surges downwards, but the armor moves with jerky mechanical motions to sidestep the flame, which dissipates against the floorboards. Without second guessing, Anton uses the railing to leap over Kellon, landing behind him on the stairwell, out of reach of the haunted armor.

The armor reaches back and swings a metal fist towards Gweyir's center of mass, but she parries the blow with her sword and backs away, sidling past Kellon onto the stairs between him and Anton. The armor begins to lumber after with slow, deliberate steps.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Animated Armor passes its Dex save vs Sacred Flame.
Anton uses Disengage, and moves behind Kellon.

Animated Armor attacks Gweyir, but misses.

Gweyir uses Disengage, and moves behind Kellon.
It is Kellon's turn again.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon growls as the armor somehow manages to dodge despite its clunky movements. Fortunately, the other have fled to the safety of the stairs and now Kellon stands as their bulwark at the top. He cannot move forward to engage the foe, but instead tauntingly smacks the head of his warhammer against his plastron.  "I am right here, foul spirit! I shall put you to rest!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon readies an attack for when the armor closes.
Attack roll:  (1d20+6)[ 26 ] 
Blunt damage:  (1d8+4)[ 6 ] 
 
RandomWombat
With a creaking of rusty joints, the armor steps implacably onto the stairway. Before it can attack, Kellon is ready, and he slams his hammer into the armor's knee plate. It snaps and crunches under the blow, but the armor does not topple, instead standing lopsided as it grabs at Kellon's shell with its gauntlets, and then drives its plated metal head into Kellon's forehead. The blow leaves him reeling, and he feels dribbling blood trickle down his face. In response to the contact, a sudden surge of electricity bursts out, scattering across the surface of the armor and leaving scorch marks behind.

From on the stairs, Anton waves his wand around in the air as he incants,  "Suffosio!"  The light within the armor flickers for a moment, as the rusted ends of its joints curl and corrode further, and it falls to the ground limply for a brief moment. Then it begins twitching and spasming as the pieces begin to stand once more.

Reaching out, Gweyir causes a thorny vine to grow out along her forearm.   "Lash it!"   she commands, and the vine lunges out, trying to snap some of the leather straps holding the armor's joints together. But it fails to find purchase.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon's readied attack triggers, and he critically hits for  12  damage.

Animated Armor slams Kellon for a painful  7  damage. Edit: Kellon's Wrath of the Storm triggers, dealing  7  damage after a successful Dex save.

Anton casts a spell (Kellon Arcana: Failed to identify), causing  3  necrotic damage and the armor to fall Prone. Melee attacks against it are at Advantage, while ranged are at Disadvantage.
Gweyir casts a spell (Kellon Arcana:  Thorn Whip ), but misses the armor.
It is now Kellon's turn again.
 
Prehysterical
Despite striking true, the armor care not for things like pain. Pain is something Kellon finds himself immediately reacquainted with as the armor slams its helmet into his own brow. His knees wobble as his head spins from the impact, but he stands firm as the storm repays the blow. Fortunately, his allies find a way to contribute to the fight from behind him and the armor is suppressed by their magics. Glaring down at the unfeeling armor, Kellon raises his warhammer and brings it swinging down toward the foe's helm.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack rolls:
 (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
 (1d20+6)[ 20 ] 
Bludgeoning Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Damn, impressive. Exactly enough damage.
 


The hammer raises high, and like thunder it crashes in a cacophony of metal on metal. The helmet crumbles as blue light splatters out of it like blood, dimming in sparkling patterns on the marble until it fades away. Piece by piece the armor begins to crumble and lose its shape, pieces tumbling down the stairs past Kellon and making a hell of a racket.

  "Are you alright?"   Gweyir asks, placing a hand on the back of Kellon's shell and stepping up to take a look at his forehead.   "You're bleeding pretty bad."  

Anton picks up one of the gauntlets that rolls down next to his foot and looks at it, then startles and drops it down the central shaft of the stairwell when one last twitch escapes the 'dying' construct.
Prehysterical
The ringing of metal as the spirit is put to rest satisfies Kellon even through his pounding headache. He leans against the wall for support as Gweyir checks on him, waving her off.  "We all must weather the storm from time to time. Fortunately, the waters can give life as well as take it."  Kellon puts away his warhammer and touches his forehead, letting healing energy flow back into him.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Cure Wounds on himself.
 (1d8+3)[ 11 ]  damage healed
 
RandomWombat
The wound mends, the bleeding stops, and Kellon's pain becomes only a recent memory. Gweyir nods, satisfied that he's taken care of it himself.   "I have some healing magic of my own, so keep that in mind while we're fighting these ghosts."   She turns to look at Anton down the stairs.   "What of you? It seems your magic is more than just empty boasts."  
 "Oh, well, given an hour I can put together a little something to help treat wounds,"  the soft highborn replies, considering his wand and whether to tuck it back into its place. Ultimately he decides to keep it out, in hand and ready.  "By the way, that was no ghost, but a construct,"  he points his wand at some of the scattered pieces, as if seeing them again means anything more to the other two.  "Animated armor. Popular security for nobility, or occultists of means." 
  "I don't think we can afford to leave any of us alone around here,"   Gweyir tells Kellon, largely tuning out Anton's ramblings.
Prehysterical
 "I will keep that in mind, hunter."  Kellon is pleased that he is not the only one who is capable of mending wounds. His opinion of Anton has also gone up. The man's magic proved useful during the encounter and Kellon gives nods slowly to acknowledge Anton's correction. Not quite as sinister, but irrelevant to the dead.

Kellon gives a single fervent nod in agreement with Gweyir.  "Agreed."  Looking back to the landing, Kellon asks,  "Now... should we try this again?" 
RandomWombat
  "As long as we stay spread out, I don't think the floor should give out,"   Gweyir states thoughtfully, testing the wood again with her foot.   "A shame we don't have any way to make you lighter. No offense."  
 "We could tie some helium-filled balloons to him,"  Anton suggests.

  "Do you have helium-filled balloons?"  
 "Well, er. Not so much  on  me."  The man looks around as if seeking any sign of one nearby, then shrugs.  "In any case, you both seem a little flagged. Perhaps we should focus on securing a single room, that we may take a rest in peace?" 
Prehysterical
Gweyir's apology puzzles Kellon. Tortles have thick shells by their very nature, so being heavy is normal for his kind.  Anton's inane comments leave the tortle only more confused. What was 'helium'? This stranger was full of foreign words.

Kellon shakes his head firmly against Anton's suggestion.  "We need to make sure at least one floor is secure before we rest. We do not have the means to barricade, so we must be sure that no surprises come bursting through doors. Lead on, Gweyir." 
RandomWombat
Taking the fore, Gweyir keeps the silver sword in hand as she enters the small corner alcove she'd ventured before the armor attacked. The double doors are decorated with inset panes of dusty stained glass, depicting the windmills that appear to be the Durst family's crest. As she takes hold and swings them open, a dusty master bedroom is revealed. The centerpiece of the room is a four-poster bed with once-white, now-stained embroidered curtains, and a tattered cloth veil. Matching tattered curtains hang in front of old, cracked windows, and a pair of wooden wardrobes stand between the bed and the wall.

To the left is a vanity table with a wood-framed mirror, with a jewelry box upon it and a padded chair sitting in front of the mirror. Alongside that end of the room is another fireplace and a rotting tiger-skin rug that reeks of decay. A few small mushrooms grow out of the moldy rug. Another portrait of the Durst parents hangs above the mantle.

To the right, the room branches off into a small parlor covered in webbing. A few tiny spiders crawl hither and to, tending to their weaves. A cloth covered table and two chairs sit in the parlor, with an empty porcelain bowl and a jug with many spouts sitting upon the table. Just off of the parlor is a clear glass door to a balcony, where the Mist swirls around, but refuses to touch the balcony itself. On the opposite wall from the balcony door is a smaller - almost comically small - wooden door set into the wall, at about chest height on a human.

The ceiling of the parlor has a hole in it, which as since been covered thickly in webbing. Some broken boards lie on the floor beneath the hole.

Anton opens a door across from the foot of the bed, upon which a full body mirror is affixed. Inside is an empty, dusty closet full of motheaten remnants of clothes.  "Not a whole lot here, but the jewelry box might be worth something." 
Prehysterical
Slowly, gingerly, Kellon follows after the pair. Who were these people that had such wealth to spare for fancy furs and stained glass in doors? He gags at the smell of the rotten tiger skin. Sure, the ocean often had its own rank foulness from clumped seaweed and fishbait, but this was a different flavor of awful. The Mist's unwillingness to even intrude upon the balcony is puzzling. What could hold such a powerful force at bay?

Kellon scoffs at Anton's comment.  "Nevermind that we don't know what happened to these people, I don't think you'd make much of any money selling to the folk around here. They'd probably just fill you full of holes and take the jewelry for the trouble. Let's focus on surviving the night and not lining our pockets." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon is going to look around the room for anything seemingly out of the ordinary.
 (1d20+3)[ 18 ] 
  (1d20+3)[ 21 ]  
 
RandomWombat
Anton's face flushes a bit and he clears his throat.  "Right, of course. Though..."  he stops as he explores the parlor and examines the jug on the table. He leans in closer and adjusts his glasses to peer at it from a few different angles, while the others continue to search the room.

Opening one of the wardrobes, Gweyir is greeted by a shriek of a bat as it flutters out, startling Anton. The elf doesn't seem bothered, and ignores the bat as it flies out of the room, fleeing its uexpected new housemates. She picks up a few vials from a rack in one of the wardrobe drawers.   "Healing potions, I think,"   she relays, examining the bottled red liquid.

The jewelry box that Anton pointed out is made of solid silver, with gold filigree. Were there anyone to sell it to, he would be right; this sort of thing would sell for near a hundred gold coins, easily, even if it's empty. The drawers of the vanity table contain nothing but old, dried makeup in a wooden case and two bottles of perfume.

Two things catch Kellon's attention. The first is the mockingly small door, which opens to a small shaft that seems to run down to lower levels of the house. It's musty and damp inside, and stinks of mold and mildew. A rope and pulley system hangs in the middle of the shaft and there is a small button on the wall next to the door. Anton comments,  "That's a dumbwaiter. You press the button and it rings a bell down in the kitchen, then they use it to send up food."  He picks up the jug and holds it for Kellon to look at, stretching out his arms so as not to share too much floor space.  "This may be of use as well. An  alchemy jug , able to produce many mundane liquids. Fresh water, salt water, oil. Beer if this place has left you in need of a drink."  The man chuckles.

The other thing that Kellon notices is that the threads of the webbing in the ceiling hole are much thicker than the ordinary spider-spun cobwebs.
Prehysterical
Kellon listens to Anton's explanation of the strange doorway and grunts in surprise. That must have meant that not only had a family been here, but also servants working further down. It is much more fancy than what Kellon is used to.

Mindful of the floor, Kellon stretches his arms out as well and hefts the strange-looking device while Anton what it is. Kellon nods his approval.  "Now  that  sounds useful. If this can make drink, that means I won't have to worry about invoking water."  Kellon places it back on the table, fulling intending to come back for it later.

Looking up through the hole in the ceiling, Kellon asks Gweyir,  "How big do you think the spider is that made webbing such as that?" 
RandomWombat
Gweyir comes out from around the corner and sets the rack of potion vials on the bed. She looks up at the webbing, which Anton makes a point to back away from when Kellon mentions 'spiders' and 'size'.

  "More than a dog, less than a house,"   the elf answers.   "If need be, I have a spell that can pacify one. I doubt there would be more than one in a home like this, giant spiders tend to be solitary unless there's a Queen or drow involved. Not enough room for one of those, but maybe the 'duskies' they mentioned are drow elves?"  
 "Oh, are you an elf?"  Anton asks, from the other side of the bed.  "You don't fit the lore at all... would you mind if I ask you questions later, for scholarly purposes?" 
  "One thing at a time,"   Gweyir shakes her head.   "Anyways, it should leave us alone if we leave it alone. Just don't go poking the webs."  
Prehysterical
Given his propensity for the elements, Kellon has always respected druids and Gweyir proves to be a more and more useful ally by the minute.  "We shall have to keep our eyes and earholes open."  He shrugs at the mention of drow.  "Perhaps, but they are the least of our worries right now.

All right, we should move on. This can be where we rest once we have inspected the rest of this level. On to the next room. I will bring up the rear." 
RandomWombat
The group shuffles out of the room, after Gweyir plucks out the red potions and tucks them in her belt pouch. She opens the nearest door to the master bedroom, revealing a bathroom. There is a chamberpot - thankfully empty - in the corner, along with a wooden tub with clawed, metal feet. Lying in the tub nowadays would be less pleasant than in its heyday, as the wood is splintered and soggy. There is a barrel nearby with a spigot attached to a pipe above it, likely leading to some kind of receptacle for rainwater on the roof.

Unfortunately for Kellon if he fancied a dip, Gweyir tests the spigot and finds that the plumbing is no longer working, for whatever reason. Anton moves on from the room and waits in the landing where the armor had been, watching the other doors. The next one Gweyir opens leads to a small storage closet. Folded sheets and blankets seem to have escaped the predation of moths, and a basket full of bars of soap sits on the floor. A wooden broom leans against the far wall.

Lastly comes the final door on the landing. It leads to a far more modest, but elegantly simple bedroom with a second set of glass doors leading out to another balcony. A crisscrossing wooden fence with a latch separates the room from a smaller adjoining nursery, with a crib surrounded by a hanging black shroud and some small baby toys lying on the ground.

The bedroom contains a double bed, a tall mirror with patterns of ivy and berries along its border, a few end tables, and a simple wooden writing desk. There is yet another fireplace here, for those cold Barovian nights.
Prehysterical
After being tossed from a ship and dealing with unnatural Fog for most of the day, Kellon is just fine missing out on a bath. Honestly, he is thankful that, for moment, the tub is the most dangerous thing that they have come across since the armor.

Kellon enters the room after Gweyir, looking around and examining the furniture. He is not just interested in anything that might be immediately useful. There might be clues about the family or the layout of the house.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Perception rolls
  (1d20+3)[ 22 ]  
 (1d20+3)[ 16 ] 
 
RandomWombat
In his search of the room, Kellon opens up the writing desk and finds a small black book inside, a diary. The parchment pages are old and water damaged, but he can make out a few sections. It is the diary of a nursemaid working for the Durst family, her name lost to time.

 
 Spoiler: Entry 1 
  I have seen the dim look in Gustav's eyes, the dour scowl he wears whenever his wife is not looking. They were so happy once, but she grows more and more obsessed with her readings and her 'ceremonies' in the basement. More than once they have forgotten to feed the children in their room. Thank the Morninglord they have me.  
 

 
 Spoiler: Entry 2 
  Forgive me, my Lord of Light, for I have committed grave sin. I pray that Elisabeth never finds out. Gustav was so sad, and full of tears. When at last his handsome face smiled again, I thought, what harm could there be? Perhaps if he returned to his old self, the children would be better off.  
 

 
 Spoiler: Entry 3 
  The lady of the house has grown so much worse. Guests over at dark hours, gatherings in the basement herald unearthly howls from below. The children are petrified. And I've become so swollen, it's only a matter of time until she notices. What will she do with me?  
 

 
 Spoiler: Entry 4 
  Praise you for Gustav's protection, my Lord of Light. Were it not for he, I fear the lady would have had me stoned in the street, or worse, dragged below to whatever hideous revelry she partakes. Even still, I fear for my life. She wants me dead, commanded Gustav to be rid of me by morning and he looked so afraid of her. Walter. I must flee with my Walter.  
 


There are no entries past that one. Kellon notices a few old bloodstains on the corner of the desk.

Looking up from the desk, he spots a hidden hole in the wall behind the mirror. It looks as though something were thrown through the thin boards, and the mirror hung up to hide the hole until repairs that never happened. Moving it aside, he sees a small alcove, with another hidden door built into the wall across the way, into the landing. To his left is a set of rickety wooden stairs leading up to an attic.

Anton meanders into the room, peeking into the nursery. He unlatches the wooden fence and steps inside to take a look. And when he approaches the crib - that's when the flames within their enclosed lamps flicker for a moment, the room's ambient light darkening. A chill runs down Kellon's spine as he sees the glass of the mirror and windows frost over.

   "WAAAAAALTEEEEER!"    a shriek like the heavens themselves were thrown open, and a hurricane wind rips through the room, flapping curtains and sending the pages of the diary flapping open. The mirror cracks and shatters, frosted fragments of glass scattering across the floor. Kellon turns around and sees a figure of a woman, skeleton thin and wrapped in a tattered night gown. It flaps around her in the wicked wind. He cannot see her face from his side, but her eyes are trained on a terrified Anton.   "DO NOT  TOUCH  MY WAALTEER!"  

Anton swiftly holds out his wand and waves it at her.  "Stay back! Suffosio!"  The spell does not seem to cause her any distress, but the Nursemaid falters and falls to a knee with another horrible shriek.

Gweyir sets one hand against the floor and calls out,   "Ignitum!"   Streaks of mana shoot out from her fingers and form a circle beneath the specter, igniting in a blaze. Despite the flame's heat being felt even by Kellon, it does not seem to catch on the floorboards.

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
And so the  second combat  begins. The effects that herald her appearance mean no Surprise condition.

Anton: 18
Gweyir: 17
Kellon: 8
The Nursemaid: 8
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Anton casts 'Suffosio'. The ghost is immune to necrotic damage, but is knocked Prone by his spell.
Gweyir casts (Kellon Arcana:  Create Bonfire ) under the ghost, dealing  2  fire damage.
It is Kellon's turn.
 
Prehysterical
As he reads through the diary, several pieces of the puzzle click into place. An illegitimate child with the nursemaid, though it sounds like the wife's unholy rituals had nothing to do with the infant's birth...

Setting the book down, Kellon notices the edge of the hole behind the mirror. Revealing the hidden room and stairs behind the desk, Kellon wonders what could have created such a hole.

Before Kellon can point out his discovery, Anton wanders into the nursery and the temperature in the room visibly drops. Kellon feels his scales prickle as the flames dim and the glass frosts over. The shattering glass and wailing banshee scream turn Kellon's blood to ice as the former nursemaid materializes in the room with them. It's like the Tempest itself made manifest in a ghostly apparition of fury.

His mind races as the others lash out at the spirit and Kellon raises a hand in supplication.  "STOP! CEASE, ALL OF YOU!"  Grabbing his holy symbol, Kellon invokes,  "In the name of the Tempest and the Morning Lord, we come to avenge you, madam!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Going to try a Hail Mary Persuasion check
  (1d20+3)[ 13 ]  
 (1d20+3)[ 5 ] 
Welp, I tried.
 
RandomWombat
  "THERE WILL BE NO MORNING... IN A WORLD WITHOUT MY WALTER!"   the spirit shrieks, surging forward towards Anton. Before Kellon can properly ready his warhammer again, she escapes his reach, standing and gliding across the floor into the gap left by the opened nursery fence. Her cold hands reach out to grab Anton by the throat, but he ducks and weaves around her grasp.

Anton waves his wand, casting his spell again and sending her to her knees. Gweyir closes her eyes and focuses on the spell, causing the circle to shift across the floor. The old flames go out and new ones erupt, though they barely seem to singe her spectral form.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
I will assume that Kellon will make an AoO as she leaves his threatened area. However, the attack misses.

Fortunately, the ghost also misses Anton.

Anton casts Suffosio again, knocking the ghost Prone.
Gweyir moves her bonfire onto the ghost's new location, dealing  1  fire damage.
It is Kellon's turn again.
 
Prehysterical
Sadly, the spirit seems too consumed by rage. Kellon knows better than to try and use his hammer, so he instead points at the ghost.  "Skyfire!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Sacred Flame on the nursemaid.
 
RandomWombat
The flames cascade down, but seem to dissipate in the presence of the woman's aura, unable to overcome. She doesn't seem to bother getting up, grasping manically at Anton's ankles. Her long-nailed, thin hand finds purchase and a grey rot begins to spread up his pantleg - and judging from the look of agony on Anton's face, the flesh below. His skin soon turns pale as black veins spider up his neck and down his arms to his hands, and he drops his wand and lamp. The lamp shatters and the flame within is swiftly snuffed by the spectral wind.

Trying to keep the ghost in the fire, Gweyir runs up behind her and stabs the silver sword into her form.   "Get off of him!"  
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
The ghost's Dex save succeeds against Sacred Flame, despite me giving her Disadvantage for being Prone. RIP

The ghost uses her draining touch on Anton, dealing  16  necrotic damage and knocking him unconscious. The ghost fails her Dex save against continued bonfire, taking  1  fire damage.

Anton fails one Death Save. Two more failed saves and he will perish.
Gweyir moves up and attacks, dealing  3  damage to the specter after resistance.
It is now Kellon's turn again, and this will likely be my last post for most of the night. Running a session game soon, so got to get food and get ready.
 
Prehysterical
Perhaps the sky's fire does not burn as hot as Kellon thinks... Urgency spurs Kellon as the ghost seizes Anton and he collapses. Only the ghost's own wind stops a fire from erupting in the building. Kellon moves up beside Gweyir and holds his hammer aloft.  "Sunburst!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Understood. Kellon casts Word of Radiance focused on the nursemaid.
 
RandomWombat
From his aloft warhammer, a golden gleam like the sun on a clear ocean morn shines down around him. The spirit hisses and recoils from the light.   "MY LOOORD, MY LORD HAS FORSAKEN ME,"   the spirit laments with a wail as she lashes out, swiping weakly at Kellon with her twisted, clawed hand, the freezing air from it passing in front of his chest sending chills through his body - but it does not make contact.

Gweyir speaks in a projected whisper as she takes another swing at the ghost, passing her blade through the arm reaching for Kellon. The blade does little damage, passing through and leaving the arm to reform behind it.   "Anton,  rise up , your fight is not yet over!"   At her command, laced with magic, Anton gasps. Color returning to his once grey and lifeless face. The ghost has not yet noticed his return, her new focus upon Kellon and his burning light.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Hand of Radiance, dealing  6  radiant damage to the ghost.

The ghost takes a swing at Kellon, but misses. She takes another  1  fire damage.

Anton fails a second Death Save.
Gweyir casts Healing Word as a bonus action, healing Anton for  6  and restoring him to consciousness. She then attacks the ghost, hitting for  1  damage.
It is now Kellon's turn again.
 
Prehysterical
 "It is you who have forsaken him through your rage, madam! CEASE! Sunburst!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Another Word of Radiance.
 
RandomWombat
The light sears her face, but her expression twists again from anguish to rage as she finally forces herself to her feet, rising against the light. The gaunt, ghostly flesh of her face peels away into a macabre skull as she opens her bony jaw and reaches for Kellon. But in spite of her defiance, the holy light from his icon of faith stays her hand and holds her back.

Behind her, Anton rises to his feet, the fear and naive inexperience that had laced his face for much of the exploration fading away into the sheer rush of adrenaline, the deep rooted wild instinct kicking in. He pulls a pen from his front pocket and pops off part of it, revealing a gleaming silver knife hidden inside, which he jabs into the back of the ghost's head. She is momentarily stunned by the attack from behind, and before she can react Gweyir capitalizes by driving her own blade through the spirit in a diagonal cut.

Too weakened to maintain her form, the ghost's shrieks drown and choke into a whimper, as she burns away, fading in the flames. The bonfire soon vanishes alongside her, as Gweyir dismisses the magic.

Panting and shaking with adrenaline still running through him, Anton points at the ground where the spirit had been and helpfully clarifies,  " That  was a ghost." 

Forgoing any snappy comment, Gweyir steps forwards and checks Anton over, but he seems mostly alright.   "You need to be more careful. That thing nearly killed you."   It takes the man a few minutes to catch his breath as Gweyir helps him sit down against the wall.

 "I think it should have,"  finally able to respond, Anton reaches into his jacket and pulls out what looks like a small lifelike effigy of himself. It looks withered and shriveled, the skin grey and covered in black veins as he was.  "A sacrificial effigy. Took the death that was meant for me, but... I would have died regardless if not for you. You have my thanks."  He regards the spent doll and sets it on the ground, picking up his wand instead.  "She was a specter. A ghost held back by fear, regret, sorrow. Very near to growing into a true banshee, judging by her shrieks."  Sorting out the scientific data seems to be helping him calm down and recompose himself.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
The ghost fails her save, but takes only  1  radiant damage this time.

The ghost stands and attacks Kellon, but misses. She takes no damage from the bonfire this turn.

Anton stands up and draws a weapon, attacking. He Flanks with Gweyir, granting him Advantage on the attack, which critically hits for  3  damage.
Gweyir attacks the ghost, hitting for  5  damage, which is enough to finish it off.

Combat has ended.
 
Prehysterical
Some semblance of warmth begins to return as the angry spirit is forcefully banished. Kellon lets out a weary sigh as Anton states the obvious in his delirious mind. While Gweyir checks up on their human, Kellon moves back over to the desk and moves it back in place to cover the hole. He gives a disapproving look out of the corner of his eye as Anton reveals the effigy. It reminds him too much of some of the vile voodoo magic that he has seen practiced among some cannibal tribes on the isles.

 " She  was the nursemaid of the family here. Caretaker of the children that we saw earlier and no doubt murdered by the wife. May Lathander have mercy on her..."  Leaning slightly on the desk, but being careful not to put too much weight in one area, Kellon relents,  "No more. We need a rest. You two go on back to the master bedroom. I will be right behind you." 

After the two others leave the room, Kellon inspects the nursery that was so fiercely guarded.
RandomWombat
Gweyir helps Anton up and guides him away, leaving the hexed doll lying on the floor. Kellon steps into the smaller room, shifting aside toy blocks with letters on them, or small rattles filled with what sounds like sand. He reaches the crib, covered with a black veil, like one worn by a mourner.

Parting the veil reveals a baby-sized bundle of cloth lying in the soft cushions of the crib. But when pulled aside, the cloth reveals nothing inside but a wooden doll. Wherever Walter may be, he is not sleeping soundly in his crib as the ghost had believed in her madness.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception 
Just when it seems all was for naught, Kellon spies something inside the bundled cloth. A small card, which by appearances is from some fortune telling deck Kellon is not familiar with. The card's name, displayed upon its face, is the Ghost. It portrays a hideous spectral figure crawling across the ground.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon is not sure whether he truly desires to know the babe's fate. Of all the things he had expected to find, a fortuneteller's card was not one of them. He picks it up and heads back ponderously to the master bedroom.

The tortle moves to the right side of the room and begins using the alchemy jug to pour fresh water into the clean bowl on the table.  "Are you all right, lad? Er, rather, do you still need a blessing? I'd prefer you to be fully free of the undertow." 
RandomWombat
As he walks back, Kellon sees that someone has tossed the rotting tiger skin rug outside onto the landing.

Gweyir is seated in the larger, padded chair in the corner of the room near the fireplace when he arrives, while Anton is sitting in front of the vanity rubbing his face with his handkerchief. It takes him a moment to realize Kellon is talking to him, then he sits up and sets the kerchief down, looking over.  "Huh? Oh. I think I'm alright, yes. Everything is where it ought to be,"  his eyes drift down to the bowl of water.  "Could use a splash of cold water, when you are done with it. I ah, will take first watch, if we're going to sleep here. Don't think I can sleep yet." 
  "Nnngh, I could really use some time to meditate,"   the elf states tiredly in her armchair.
Prehysterical
While Kellon is glad he doesn't have to smell rotten tiger anymore, the Mist could just have as easily taken advantage of the open door and killed them faster than the ghost would have. It didn't, though, so no point crying into the ocean.

Once the container is suitably full, Kellon sets down the jug and lifts the bowl up to drink. Without any lips, he has had to practice tipping his head back and tipping coconuts and the like at just the right angle for the liquid to pour directly into his open mouth. Clear, fresh water earns a sigh of contentment from the tortle. Water that wasn't trying to kill him... That was a nice change. Setting the bowl down, Kellon removes the pack from his back and begins searching through it. As he scrounges, Kellon remarks,  "You should get some food and water in you, Gweyir. You need to get your strength back. Rest with dehydration is hardly rest at all."  He seriously hopes his rations survived the wreck...
RandomWombat
  "Water's easy enough with the magic jug. But I lost all my things in the wreck,"   she answers, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Kellon searches through his pack and finds the package of trail rations inside. Soggy as they are, they should still be edible, but they won't last long in this state without getting moldy.

  "Let me take a look,"   Gweyir waves him over and looks at the soiled rations. Holding out her hand, she begins performing arcane gestures over it, slowly drying it section by section.   "A little bit of high elf prestidigitation,"   she says as she works through it.

 "Did you say you two were in a wreck?"  Anton asks, turning his chair around with a scraping on the floor.
Prehysterical
Kellon sets the rations out on the table one by one. He had packed about ten days' worth for the journey, more than enough if something went wrong... At least, that was the intent. It would not last nearly as long between three people. Thankfully, Gweyir seems more than up for the task.

He explains to Anton,  "Aye. We were part of a crew of pirate hunters, tracking the brigands across the sea. A storm overtook us out of nowhere. Not even  I  had any inkling of it."  Kellon sounds incredulous at the admission.  "One second, bright open sunny skies, then waves like walls, rain coming down like ocean spray, and a forest of lightning with thunder to match. Our ship struck rock and we were all cast into the air."  He turns to Gweyir.  "Did anyone else even survive the impact?" 
RandomWombat
Gweyir thinks it over.   "Before I hit the water, I saw you and the captain both get tossed overboard. I don't know if anyone else survived the impact, but if we both ended up here the captain may have as well."  
 "So you washed up here from a shipwreck. Curious..."  raising a hand to his chin, Anton runs it up and down the cleft in the center.  "I myself was invited. A letter was sent to me by a Lord from Bavaria... or, Barovia? I assumed he had simply misspelt Bavaria. He knew of my profession and wished me to appraise some occult artifacts he had come into the possession of,"  the man explains.  "The Lord was named Strahd von Zarovich. The messenger, who also brought me here via carriage, was a man named Arrigal. Though I lost track of him in the Mist soon after we arrived in the village." 
Prehysterical
 "We barely escaped ahead of the Mist. It's very possible that even if the captain survived, the Mist might have gotten him. Best not lose sleep over it." 

Kellon fixes Anton with a curious gaze.  "So, we were brought here unwillingly, but you were invited? Why would this Arrigal leave you to the mercy of the Mist if he brought you here? Did he describe the artifacts at all?" 
RandomWombat
 "I'm afraid not,"  he responds with a slow drift of his head from side to side.  "Arrigal certainly didn't seem concerned when the Mist started rolling in, but some of the locals told me it was cursed and to get inside." 
  "... Do you mind if I have some?"   Gweyir asks, motioning with a hand to the trail rations she'd dried out.
Prehysterical
A scoff greets Anton's answer.  "Some host, if he doesn't warn you about the Mist that can kill you." 

Kellon nods agreeably.  "That was the intent, lass. Please, eat up."  He grabs one of the other rations and begins crunching into it himself with his beak. After the hell that they have gone through, it's like eating a banquet meal.
RandomWombat
Picking up a handful of dried foodstuffs, Gweyir pours them into her mouth and chews, leaning her head back again in relief. Since the others are eating as well, Anton brings out a container from a messenger bag at his waist and opens it up. Inside is a piece of bread and some sort of spread in a jar, which he begins applying with a knife, using the vanity as a table.  "Would either of you care for some marmalade?"  he asks.

  "Sounds fancy. I'll take a bit, sure."  

Anton brings out a spoon and scoops some of it out, offering the utensil to her. She brings it to her mouth for a taste and nods in approval.   "Thas pretty good."  
Prehysterical
Kellon eats with the quick efficiency of someone who views eating as a necessity and not a luxury. Once he downs the rest of that pack of rations, Kellon pours himself another bowl of water and glugs it down to cleanse his palate. When Anton offers the marmalade, Kellon eyes it dubiously.  "I'll stick to what I know, thank you. Could be poison to tortlefolk, for all I know." 

Having satisfied his immediate needs, Kellon gingerly squats and goes to all fours before setting his shell down on the floor.  "I'm done with the water; use it as you need it. Anton, wake me in a few hours for my watch."  With an almost cartoonish popping sound, Kellon withdraws into his shell for some rest. Minus the poor condition of the wood, the wooden floor is no worse than the paneling of a ship.
RandomWombat
 "A fair reason if ever there was,"  Anton admits, getting up to retrieve the jug and bowl, pouring some more water. As Kellon settles in to rest, the other two finish eating and hydrating themselves, and Gweyir folds her legs up on the chair with her to meditate with a quiet hum.

 
 Spoiler: Long Rest 
Taking a sleep, the party regains their hit points and spell slots, and each recover from 1 level of Fatigue - for whom it is relevant.
 


Sleep comes easily, tired as Kellon is after the effects of the Mist. Alas, when he's awakened for his watch shift, he can tell from the windows and the balcony outside that it has not dissipated. Someone is gently rocking his shell from outside.  "Erm. Kellon? Can you hear me?" 
Prehysterical
Despite the horror of the day's events, sheer exhaustion draws Kellon into a dreamless slumber. The rocking of his shell has Kellon poke his head out to regard Anton.  "Ugh, aye. I can hear you, lad. Damned Mist has not left us, I see. You best find a good spot to lie down before I change my mind about relieving you,"  he remarks wryly. Just a few hours of rest has done wonders for the tortle's mind, but he won't mind returning to the depths of sleep.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Can Kellon prepare his spells during his watch?
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
He can, yes.
 


Anton returns to the vanity and closes a book with a fancy pattern on the cover, fastening a lock. Tucking it back in his bag, he walks over to the bed and climbs in, it would appear he has no compunctions about sleeping in the abandoned bed of some missing cultists.

With the adrenaline finally purged from his system, Anton passes out very quickly. Gweyir is still softly humming in her chair.

 
 Spoiler: Long Rest 
As an elf, Gweyir takes less time to rest than most. Normally long resting twice in a row doesn't really do a lot... but she gladly continues meditation, for that sweet, sweet Fatigue recovery.
 


For the first half, Kellon's shift goes uneventfully. Then he hears a quiet creaking sound, and small snapping sounds like tiny threads being pulled apart.
Prehysterical
Kellon hardly faults Anton for wanting to sleep on the bed. Warmbloods have such soft skin and this is far from prime wooden flooring. During his vigil, Kellon invokes the Tempest and the elements to renew the storm in his shell for the coming day.

He snaps to attention at the sound of movement. His warhammer raises as he warns,  "Wake up, you two."  Kellon's voice is low but firm, the rumbling of a distant storm approaching and heralding trouble.
RandomWombat
Cracking open her eyes, Gweyir unfolds her legs and stands up. She was never really asleep, and so ready to respond at a moment's notice. Anton on the other hand groans and rolls over onto his back, forcing himself up into a seated position off the side of the bed. He makes a quiet, inquisitive grunt.

Seemingly not frightened of his rumbling, a figure starts to droop down from the hole in the ceiling, parting the webbing. A hairy arachnid head dips into the room, mandibles twitching and eight beady black eyes staring into the room.

Then, perhaps the most unexpected thing happens.

 "Hello!"  chirps a cheerful, soft toned voice from the arachnid perched above.
Prehysterical
As the spider descends, Kellon keeps a firm grip on his warhammer. He is visibly taken aback when the spider not only speaks, but arguably with more warmth than any other greeting in this land. Kellon gives a significant look to Gweyir. She had volunteered to be the "spider whisperer" and Kellon was prepared to follow her lead.
RandomWombat
The elf seems as baffled as Kellon as she stands and walks where she can get a better view of their guest. Anton doesn't seem to have realized what's talking yet, with the veils and curtains of the bed in the way.  "Oh, did we find another person? Or them find us, rather."  He yawns, holding a hand over his mouth.

  "I'm going to go with a solid maybe,"   Gweyir answers. She waves at the spider, which droops a mandible down, mimicking her motion upsidedown.   "Hello there. Sorry if this is rude, but how can you talk?"  
 "With my mouth, silly!"  the spider chirps, followed by a high pitched clicking noise something like chopsticks being tapped together... or spider laughter?

  "Of course, how silly of me,"   she reaches back and rubs the back of her head, looking at Kellon and only offering him a shrug.   "Do you live in this house?"  
 "Yes! I used to live outside but now I live here. There aren't as many things to eat here. Do you know the way out?" 
Prehysterical
This place only brings stranger and stranger things... Kellon brings himself into the conversation.  "Yes, we do, but the Mist is unfortunately keeping us in here. Even if we needed to go outside right this minute, we would be dead in less time than it would take for us to have walked down the stairs to the door." 

Kellon examines the spider's demeanor closely.  "You said there weren't many things to eat in here... What have you been eating, exactly? Do you have a name?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Insight:  (1d20+5)[ 12 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "Oh, that's not good,"  the spider laments in a disappointed voice that doesn't last long before its bright demeanor returns.  "I eat the bats, and the rats, and sometimes the dead bodies!" 
  "Dead bodies? Other people have died here? Did you kill them?"   cautiously, Gweyir questions the spider further. Anton finally leans out from behind the bed curtains to see what's going on and looks up in fascination.

 "So many things I've never seen before. Such a curious, if terrifying place,"  he murmurs to himself, audibly.

 "I don't kill people, that would be very rude! Unless they try to stab me. One tried to stab me. I tried to tell him not to, but he wouldn't listen! It was very sad,"  after its lamentations are finished, the spider answers Kellon's other question.  "I'm Spider! What are you?" 
 "I am Anton. Do you mind if I try something? It'll tingle a little, I just need you not to resist."  Bringing up his fingers, Anton forms them into a shape of a rectangle, as if framing an image of the spider in the hole above.

 "Okay!" 
  "Hey, you're not going to hurt it are you?"   Gweyir steps up and puts a hand on his shoulder.   "I'm Gweyir, an elf. Nice to meet you."  
 "Nice to meet you, Gweyir An Elf and Anton!" 
 "Of course I'm not going to hurt it,"  Anton answers. A small field of purple light begins to shimmer between his fingers, like a pane of glass, and his eyes glow in the same hue. With a somewhat disappointed frown, he lowers his hands.  "... Well, it's no demon or devil in a disguise. Its True name is... Spider." 
Prehysterical
The spider truly seems innocuous. Kellon slings his warhammer back into its halter as Anton attempts more of his strange magic. The purple light of his shows more witchery and Kellon grows ever more concerned about how Anton has gone about acquiring his powers. Focusing on the moment, Kellon clacks his claws on his plastron as he gives a slight bow to Spider.  "I am Kellon. My people are the tortles. We are strangers to this land of Barovia."  His mind races with questions, but Kellon focuses on being diplomatic in this case.  "We don't have much in the way of liquid food, but could we interest you in some water? It seems like the plumbing in the building has gone dry." 
RandomWombat
 "Barovia? I never heard of it, nope."  At the mention of water, the spider lowers itself down to the floor by a strand of white webbing and lands, crawling over to Kellon. Its limbs make a sort of eerie creaking sound when they move, the same sound he heard moving above them on the next floor up before its appearance.  "I'd like some water please! Thank you, you're very cute!"  it says gratefully.

Anton takes a few steps back, as the group has started to cluster together and the floor groans a bit under the weight.  "I've certainly never heard of anything like this. Highly unusual. Do you think Spider is a native of Barovia, or lost like ourselves?" 

Gweyir shifts from one foot from the other, seemingly resisting the urge to get a closer look at the spider now that it's down there with them. 'Spider' has a large body - comparatively speaking, to ordinary spiders - about the size of a larger dog like a mastiff.   "I'm still only an apprentice, but none of the druids of my circle spoke of anything like this. A few awakened animals, perhaps, but nobody was ever said to have awakened something like a giant spider."  
 "Don't worry, you didn't wake me up,"  the spider reassures her.  "I woke up to go hunting for prey! A bat got caught in my webs in the higher place." 
Prehysterical
How can something be so unsettling and yet endearing at the same time? Kellon found the question turned on himself when Spider compliments him. Of all the things that Kellon has ever been called, "cute" was limited to only his own parents. While Anton and Gweyir discuss academics, Kellon gingerly makes his way across the floor past Spider. They need to redistribute the weight. It's also necessary so that Kellon can access the table in the corner and use the alchemy jug to pour some water for Spider. Once Kellon fills the bowl up, he sets it on the floor for Spider's easy access.  "Tell me about the man that tried to stab you. Was he part of the family that lived in this house? Or did he come in alone like you did? Have you seen anything strange, like dead things that are not dead or anything that howls?" 
RandomWombat
Spider dips its head into the bowl of water and happily starts lapping it up, making little tiny waves in the water. It's silent for the moment, as it drinks. Then Spider comes up for air and immediately begins talking again.  "I don't think he lived in the house. Oh no! Did I invade his nest!"  the spider's tone shifts to worried distress.  "Was that why he was stabbing me? I must have been really, really bad." 
  "Sshh, sshh, calm down. Can you tell us what the man was like first? We've seen what the... nest owner looks like,"   Gweyir takes a seat on corner of the bed as she talks, trying to comfort the worried spider.

 "Oooh, well he had a face with a nose. And he had hair. Really really long hair, all over his face, but none of it on his head. And he was small and wide. And he had a big long stick that was glowing and had a poking bit like a sharp stinger at the end." 

Taking in spider's description, Gweyir nods along.   "Well, I don't think you hurt the nest owner, so don't worry. The master of the house had no big long hair on his face."   She looks up to Kellon and shifts out of her softer, kid talk tone from dealing with Spider.   "It sounds like it was a dwarf."  

While they talk, Anton takes a seat at the table and opens up a small personal journal similar to the one the nursemaid had, beginning to jot things down in it.
Prehysterical
The village seemed to consist of only humans, from what Kellon had seen. Perhaps the dwarf had been another outlander like them? He had a suspicion that searching through the dwarf's belongings would likely bring some answers. Looking back down at Spider, Kellon asks,  "Spider, it is very nice to meet you, but we need to get some rest. We were in the Mist earlier, you see, and Gweyir here was very sick from being in it. We would be happy to talk more later, but we need to get some sleep. Would you mind if we come up to the attic later? The above space? We are trying to figure out what happened to the nest owners." 
RandomWombat
 "Okay, Kellon! You can visit my attic nest anytime, new friends!"  Spider cheerfully affirms. It dips its head again and drinks most of the rest of the water in the bowl before it goes. Crawling around Kellon back under the hole in the ceiling, it shoots out a web above and starts to lift off.  "I'm going to eat more bats and bugs and get a nice breakfast! Sleep tight, eat very good bedbugs!" 
 "Um, have a good breakfast,"  Anton looks up from his book and waves. Spider waves a mandible again, as it did with Gweyir's greeting, before ascending back into the ceiling.  "What a pleasant little fellow." 

Getting up from the corner of the bed, Gweyir returns to her chair and sits once more.   "It's kind of nice to see a friendly face for once, in this place. Even if it's a spider face."  
Prehysterical
Were he capable of it, Kellon would be smiling as he waves farewell to Spider. In response to Gweyir's remark, Kellon responds,  "I'll take that spider over this entire village so far. This one only takes what it needs and doesn't judge by appearances."  Turning his gaze to Anton, Kellon suggests,  "Well, you should get back to sleep, Anton, unless you are now so taken with your little book that that's impossible.  One  of us will be sleeping, whichever way." 
RandomWombat
 "I think I'm too awake to get back to sleep at this point,"  Anton answers tapping his fingers on the desk.  "Go ahead and get some rest. I'm recording some things in my journal." 

With no complaints for Anton volunteering to run a second shift, Gweyir folds her legs back up to return to her meditations.   "May as well. We don't want to sit around too long."  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Since Spider interrupted the second half of the rest, they'll finish the rest now - and Gweyir finish her second rest.

That's it for me tonight, got to turn in for work tomorrow. Probably not much posting will happen tomorrow, Tuesdays are busy ones for me.
 
Prehysterical
The others may be too wired, but Kellon happily goes back to rest. A few hours later, he wakes up feeling completely refreshed and ready to take on whatever the house has to offer... barring any surprise dragons or archfiends.

Before things get rolling, there is one thing Kellon wants investigated. He carefully approaches Anton and flashes him the Ghost card from earlier.  "You seem to deal in sorceries. Can you tell me anything about this?" 
RandomWombat
The rest is welcome to weary bones, but soon comes to an end. The Mist has not retreated, and many dark forces still lurk in the corners of this house of death. Hearing Kellon stir, Gweyir stands from her chair and stretches, working out any remaining stiffness from her time in meditation.

Looking up from his writing, Anton closes the little journal and reaches up to take the card in hand.  "How fortuitous! Earlier this... well, can't tell if it's morning, but let's say morning for convenience's sake. I prepared and memorized an Identification spell, in case we should find anything cursed in this place."  Setting the card down on the table in front of him, bringing his hands together with his fingers and thumbs in the shape of a rectangle, much as he had before. This time a shimmering sheet of green light takes form between his hands, and glows behind his eyes.

 "Hm...!"  the magician hums in a pleased tone.  "Not exactly cursed, but not exactly not cursed either. It appears to be part of a set. Something in it calls to others, a greater whole."  Picking up the card, Anton turns it over to examine the other side. The back of the card is inlaid with strings of silver in flowing patterns around its edges, and in the center is a stylized silver sphere that gleams like a full moon.  "According to my Naming Magic, this is the Ghost, one of a set known as Mother Night's Tarokka Deck... what those words mean is anyone's guess. I can conjure names, but not what they mean." 

Finally, he hands the card back to Kellon.  "As to its effects, one who attunes to it will be able to call upon its power to speak to corpses, and ask them questions. For a time, it can also allow the bearer to walk as spirits do. On the other hand, its connection to the other side means that the bearer can be turned by holy powers as those same spirits." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon has obtained The Ghost, one of  a set of magical Tarokka cards .

(A cleric bearer is not affected by their own Turning, only that of others)
 
Prehysterical
Kellon regards the card as he would an orca: respectful of both its power and its potential to cause problems. He stashes it in his belt pouch before heading back to the table to get himself some more fresh water. Sated, Kellon makes sure to grab his oil lamp.  "Well, might as well be thorough today. I will be heading up to the attic to inspect it... I am sure that Spider will be glad for the company. You are welcome to stay or come with. The dead dwarf might be up there, Anton, and it sounds like he had some magical items on him." 
RandomWombat
Anton nods, collecting the alchemy jug and carrying it under one arm.  "Certainly. May as well bring this along, don't want to lose track of it!"  He falls in step behind Kellon - but not too close.

Taking up the rear, Gweyir adjusts her belt to slip the silver sword's scabbard into it.   "I may as well accompany you as well. I'd rather not wander alone around this place."  

Together they cross through the landing above the stairs, where the stinking tiger rug is still lying there. Now that he knows where it is, Kellon easily shifts the false wall out of the way, opening up the path to the attic. The wooden stairs creak as he walks up, and one of them is too worn and rotten - snaps beneath him, sending his leg down through. But the others hold and he is able to pull himself up the rest of the way. The two behind him skip over the missing step.

At the top of the stairway is a door, which they enter. On the other side is no fancy landing or hall, but a dusty wooden hallway absolutely covered in webbing that sticks to Kellon's feet. The web-covered hole from below is right ahead. If there is any blessing here, Spider's webs appear to be helping hold the place together, and the wooden floor stops creaking.

There are a few other doors in the attic. One of them stands out, nearest to the hole in the floor, because the lock is on the outside, not the inside.

 "Hewo fwens!"  Spider speaks with its mouth full, coming around the corner with a limp rat hanging from its mandibles slowly being drained into a desiccated husk of rat jerky as the arachnid drinks its insides.
Prehysterical
Kellon's heart stops for a split second when one of the stairs breaks underneath of him, but heaves a sigh of relief when the rest hold. He will be a very happy tortle when he is out of this damnable place.

Mindful of Spider's presence, Kellon refrains from complaining about the feeling of sticky webbing against his claws. Somehow, it's less offensive than the foul dew they ran through yesterday. Besides, it is a small price to pay for not crashing through the ceiling.

Kellon gives a small wave of greeting to Spider's welcome, trying not to look too closely as Spider enjoys its meal.  "Hello again, Spider. Please, don't mind us; we are just going to check these rooms up here."  As Kellon makes for the door opposite of the locked door, he asks the other two adventurers,  "I don't suppose either of you have a lockpick?" 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
To clarify, it's one of those deadbolt locks that you turn, not a padlock or keyed lock. The turning bit is on the outside, allowing it to be locked and unlocked from the outside.
 

 "I do not, no,"  Anton answers as he follows, struggling a little to step through the webbing - he is not as physically strong as Kellon and Gweyir. The elf shakes her head as well, and leans down to pat Spider on the back, seemingly not disturbed by its eating. Such is nature's way after all.

  "It's nice to see you got a good breakfast, Spider."  
 "Yup!"  Spider finishes its meal and sets the rat down. Kellon feels the crunch of more bones beneath his feet, leftovers from past meals. True to its word, there are no human (or human-like) remains among them. The dwarf's remains aren't in the hallway either.

Opening the door at the end of the hall, Kellon finds a dirty old guest room that doesn't seem to have been in use when it was abandoned, all of the sheets and bedding folded up and put away in a wardrobe. There is a slender bed, a nightstand, a wood-burning iron stove, a writing desk with a wooden stool, and a rocking chair. In the window box sits a smiling doll in a yellow dress, cobwebs adorning her like a wedding veil draped down her back.

Lying on the unmade bed are shriveled, mummified remains of a dwarf, his dried and peeled skin partially eaten by other insects since Spider laid him to rest. Across the chest of his body is a spear, the head of which is glowing with a white light and adorned with the symbol of the blazing anvil of Moradin. He is clad in ring mail that is still in decent condition.

Crawling up behind Kellon, Spider tugs at the bottom of his backpack.  "You are looking for lock wigglers?"  it asks.  "I know how to do the wiggling using little bones!" 
Prehysterical
Fortunately, the bottoms of Kellon's feet are tough enough not to mind occasional poking from the odd rat or bat bone. Kellon has mixed feelings upon finding the dwarf's corpse. On the one hand, Spider was just defending itself. On the other, Kellon imagines dying alone in a foreign land, without anyone knowing your fate... A terrible fate.

Kellon's musings (and appraisal of the spear) are interrupted by surprise tugging on his backpack. Ponderously looking past his shell, Kellon blinks in surprise at the offer.  "Well, now, that is very useful, little one! I do not think that we need that for now, but I will keep that in mind. I would certainly like to see you do it! Now, could you please the room for a moment? I would like to give this dwarf some last rites. It will help his spirit move on, hopefully to Moradin's forge halls." 
RandomWombat
 "Okay, tell him sorry for me!"  with that, Spider shuffles back out of the room and closes the door behind it.   "Kellon is saying goodbye to the dwarf,"   he hears Spider telling the others through the thin wooden door.

Kellon is left alone with the body of the dwarf. Thankfully, no vengeful spirits seem to erupt at the worst possible moment.
Prehysterical
It is difficult for tortles to kneel due to their shell, so Kellon instead bows his head and closes his eyes as he says the words.

 "Moradin, I am not one of your priests, but I call on you nonetheless. Please, see this poor lost soul home, so that his kin may find peace and closure. Welcome him into your halls and let him feast with his ancestors. In the name of the Tempest, may the currents of the afterlife bear his spirit swiftly to rest. In the name of the Storm and the Anvil, let it be so.

...And Spider apologizes for killing him, so please be merciful and gracious." 
RandomWombat
If anyone hears his prayer, Kellon does not know. For the room is as silent as ever, only the sound of a slight draft and quiet chatter from outside between the other three.
Prehysterical
It was about all that Kellon expected, really, but it had to be done. At least the dwarf's spirit was not haunting the room and swinging a spectral weapon around in furious vengeance for his untimely death.

Kellon goes to the door and opens it, waving Anton inward.  "Anton, I found the dwarf. Could you come take a look at his spear? It's blessed by the gods, but I can't tell much more beyond that." 
RandomWombat
The three of them are outside, with Gweyir talking with Spider, and Anton trying not to touch anything and get his clothes caught on the webbing.

  "So your ancestors used to live in a cave?"  
 "Yup! And then Spider led us outside, and we lived outside where there was a lot more food!" 

At Kellon's invitation, Anthon squelches his way over across the webbed floor, happy to cross into a room where the webbing is not so thick.  "It seems that all spiders are simply called Spider,"  he comments as he slides into the room and looks around.  "I suppose they tell each other apart some other way. Smell, perhaps?" 

Standing over the fallen dwarf, Anton restrains himself from touching the spear for now, holding out his hands in a familiar gesture. The screen of green light shimmers between his fingers as he examines the spear.  "Well, it is no grand artifact of 'Moradin', as I'm sure we surmised from Spider's survival. It is simply made to provide light."  He closes his hands and lowers them to his sides, turning his head and examining the dwarf.  "He is quite wide and sturdy for a dwarf. I get the sense that, much like elf, the meaning of the word is different where you come from. I've begun to suspect we may not be from the same plane at all." 

Gingerly, Anton picks up the spear and says,  "Off."  The spear's tip stops glowing, dimming down until it is only a normal spear head.  "On."  The spear begins to glow again, shedding light around its tip.  "Your dwarves are an uncomplicated and practical people, if their craft speaks to them,"  he observes, offering the spear to Kellon.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
The Spear of Light has a Light cantrip on its tip that can be activated or deactivated with On and Off commands, and triggers the light sensitivity trait of things like kobolds. It provides no bonus to hit or damage, but does qualify as a magical weapon for bypassing resistances.
 
Prehysterical
It is hard for Kellon to not respect the dwarves for their ability to combine function and simple beauty in their creations. Kellon douses his lamp and accepts the spear from Anton graciously.  "'Uncomplicated' does not fit their notions of honor, but their craft is well-respected among all races. We shall use this artifact until we come across a priest of the Forge-Father. The church has more right to the weapon than we do, but it shall do us much good in this accursed house. Still, it is strange... Dwarves are known for their ability to see in the dark. What need would one of the underfolk have for a light-bearing spear?"  The question is rhetorical; Anton is most definitely not the right person to ask.

Kellon intends to do a more thorough search later, but it is best to quickly check the rooms before getting "lost in the reeds", as his father would have said. He steps past Spider and Gweyir to approach the latched door. With one hand on his new spear, Kellon opens the latch.
RandomWombat
 "Perhaps the light is not to see, but to frighten or to blind?"  Anton suggests, following Kellon outside.  "Underground creatures such as moles can have very poor eyesight when it is too bright for them." 

The two of them rejoin the others in the hallway, and Gweyir gets ready as he opens a new room. The latch turns and clicks open, and Kellon swings the door open inwards. Insight is a somber sight.

There is a single bricked up window, flanked by two dusty, wood-framed beds sized for children. To the right of the door is a toy chest painted in once-bright yellows and blues that have faded beneath a thick layer of dust, and peeled with time and water damage. Spots of wood that are more damaged than others suggest some places on the roof leak, dripping down when it rains. To the left of the door is a dollhouse, modeled after the house they are in. Kellon recognizes several of the rooms they've already explored, and it gives a fairly good view of the ones they haven't. The third floor and attic are a lot nicer on the model, as they must have looked back in their own day.

Lying in the middle of the floor are two small skeletons wrapped in familiar clothing. The smaller has a doll clutched against its chest with its little arms, while the larger is wrapped comfortingly around its lesser sibling.
Prehysterical
Anton raises a good point, Kellon is forced to admit reluctantly.

Opening the door, Kellon audibly gasps.  "The children... by all the gods..."  Life is hard and uncertain, he has learned, but the death of those who have not learned to take care of themselves is always a tragedy. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils and releases it with a sigh.  "When all is said and done, they shall need a proper burial. I will not leave them like this." 

Unfortunately, that will have to wait. The Mist has no respect for funerary rites. He approaches the dollhouse and looks at it with great curiosity. If it is modeled after the same house, perhaps it can provide some clue as to what might lie ahead.
RandomWombat
The model house reveals the rooms yet to be explored:

On the ground floor there is a dining room, a kitchen and adjacent pantry, and a sitting room with a glass cabinet containing some crossbows on display.
On the second floor there is a ballroom containing a piano, a library, and a hidden room behind a bookcase that on the dollhouse is very obviously a door. There is also a small servant's quarters tucked away to the side, with an adjoined closet.
The third floor they explored completely.
And in the attic there is another guest bedroom beside the childrens' room, and a storage room full of spare furniture.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception 
There is a door hidden in the storage room in the attic, which even on the dollhouse is not obvious. Kellon is able to reach out and open it up, revealing a hidden spiral staircase that appears to descend throughout the entire house. Wherever it leads, the model house does not show.
 


As Kellon touches the dollhouse, he feels a slight chill. Not the dark powerful fury of the specter, but as he turns he can see two translucent figures standing in the middle of the room, over their skeletons. Thorn still clutches his little doll.

 "Please don't take anything from the dollhouse. I don't want it to get lost,"  the little girl asks.

 "Hello friends!"  Spider peeks into the door and waves a mandible at the children. Thorn smiles from his shy hiding spot behind his sister and doll and waves back.

 "Henlo." 
Prehysterical
The dollhouse proves to be full of information, even allowing Kellon to see a hidden staircase. Since the exit is not immediately obvious, they can do without probing its descent for now.

Itching in his scales prompts him to turn around and he startles at the reappearance of the children. They seem as harmless as ever, however, and Kellon relaxes. He hopes his smile reaches his eyes since his beak is incapable of it.  "I am sorry, little one. I was just admiring this tiny little version of your house. It is a very nice home."  His tone grows more sad as he is forced to ask,  "Tell me, children, why were you locked up here? Who locked you in?" 
RandomWombat
The girl looks down. Thorn seems too shy to speak much, so she does it for him,  "We... mother and father would lock us in here when they brought guests down to the basement. Father said, he didn't want us to see what was down there. Said we were still too little." 

Thorn holds his doll tighter.   "That's where the monsters howl."  
 "One day, mother and father never came back. I tried to break down the door, but I was too small,"  the girl recounts.  "We got hungry and thirsty, and then we just got tired. And I held Thorn and we went to sleep." 
 "It wad just me and Rose until friend Spider come,"  Thorn says. Spider slips by into the room and walks over to nuzzle Thorn. Its head phases through the boy's body and leaves little misty streaks, but it seems to tickle and causes Thorn to laugh and giggle.

Gweyir and Anton each watch from either side of the doorway.  "Well, there is no doubt that these are ghosts. But they don't seem like dangerous spirits at all."  Even the usually either fascinated or unfazed writer's voice dips low, and his eyes watch the children sadly.

  "They just locked their children up in a room?"   Gweyir asks, rhetorically - and angrily.   "So they could go do... gods know what?!"  
Prehysterical
Not quite the scenario that Kellon had feared, but this was not much better. Their parents must have run afoul of their own rituals and the children perished up here, since no one else knew about the hiding place. The fact that these children have retained their innocence even in the face of such death and evil makes their fate all the more tragic. Just the thought makes Kellon physically ill, a lump in his stomach.

Kellon gives Gweyir a look, showing that he shares similar feelings but silently asking for quiet. Turning back to Rose, Kellon tells her,  "When last we spoke, we did not have time to introduce ourselves. I am Kellon, the lady behind me is Gweyir, and the man is Anton. Now, Rose... Tell me everything that you can remember. The names of your parents, your nursemaid, anything that seemed strange... beyond the scary noises in the basement. How did your parents make so much money?" 
RandomWombat
Gweyir contains a primal growl in her throat, choking it back. She nods and calms herself before her shouting can scare or upset the children - though Spider is doing an admirable job of keeping Thorn cheerful, and Rose seems very levelheaded for her age.

 "It's nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances,"  Anton bows his head to the children.

 "Pleased to meet you, Anton and Gweyir, and Kellon,"  Rose performs a formal curtsy in her spectral dress.  "Our parents were Elisabeth and Gustav Durst. Our family were Barovian nobility, and owned the farmlands around the windmill west of town."  She speaks with the fluency and clarity of a child well-educated, in spite of her neglectful upbringing.  "Miss Georgia was our nursemaid. She took good care of us, and tutored me and Thorn. She took care of little baby Walter too - but I never got to meet him,"  she says sadly.  "She never came to check on us, but I hear her crying sometimes." 
 "We spoke with miss Georgia,"  Anton tells them in a soft voice.  "She really wanted to help you, but she couldn't. I think she would want to say sorry, and that she cared for you both. She left for a better place now." 

Rose's sad face turns up into a wistful smile.
Prehysterical
Perhaps an overly generous spin on the situation for Anton's part, but at least the children now know that their neglect was not due to their caretaker abandoning them.

Kellon thumps the butt of his spear on the wooden flooring emphatically.  "Well, rest assured, young Miss Rose, that we will put a stop to whatever evil has been hidden in this house. May Tempest strike me down if I lie!"  A claw points to the sky, hidden as it is by the roof.

Turning to the other adults, Kellon continues,  "But before we descend to the basement, we must inspect the rest of the house. There is another bedroom and a storage room here in the attic. I suggest that we investigate those before we head down to the second floor." 
RandomWombat
Gweyir takes a step inside the room and walks over to the beds.   "Children, do you mind if I use your pillowcases?"   she asks. Rose nods and looks down at Thorn, who thinks it over and then nods as well. Gweyir looks up at Kellon and says,   "I'm going to collect their remains to bring with us, so that we can give them a proper burial later. I'll be down in a moment."  
 "Do you want to come explore with us?"  Spider asks. The little boy smiles and nods and steps inside Spider's body, seemingly melding into the creature, Rose following with Thorn holding her hand and pulling her in. There is a brief blue glow in Spider's eyes.  "Let's go exploring!  I show you my best secret hiding spot!   Hey, stop pushing. " 
 "I suppose if everyone else is going downstairs, I will remain with Gweyir for safety. You know where to find me if you need me to elucidate this or that,"  Anton steps into the room, perhaps just to get out of the webbed hallway, and takes a seat on one of the beds.
Prehysterical
While Kellon appreciates Gweyir's thoughtfulness, there are things going on that have a higher priority. Still, that is something that she can do while he investigates the other rooms in the attic. Kellon nods his understanding.  "Very well. I will make a sweep of the other rooms while you gather the remains." 

A sympathetic shiver runs through Kellon's bones as he watches the children seemingly possess Spider. He steps over to the neighboring bedroom and performs an inspection.
RandomWombat
The second guest bedroom is much like the first, but covered thoroughly in Spider's webs. A bed of webbing seems to have been woven on the floor, and there are more desiccated and skeletal remains of small pests such as rats and bats.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception 
As he sweeps over the room, Kellon notices a small gleam of silver inside of the iron stove against the wall of the room. Pulling aside the webbing keeping it shut and opening it up reveals the silver lining of another Tarokka card lying in the bottom of the empty stove. Turning it over reveals The Innocent, with an image of a young human woman, surely a great beauty by their standards. Her hair is curled up at the sides and she wears clothes which somehow blend the fineness of wealth with a humble bearing.
 
Prehysterical
So... this is where Spider made its home. It seemed that even a mind as alien as Spider's liked the idea of a separate room.

He almost misses the Tarokka card in the stove, of all places, but the sheen on the back of the card catches the light just right. This house proves more and more unsettling by the hour... What sort of force  would leave these magic talismans lying around? Another mystery for Anton to decrypt.

Kellon steps across the hall and enters the storage room. He is on his guard; the layout of the furniture in this place make it a perfect candidate for an ambush.
RandomWombat
 "Do you like my nest? I made it myself,"  Spider asks as Kellon emerges from the room to check the one just across the hall.  "It's very impressive how many webs you can weave, Spider.  Aww, thank you! You're making me very happy! "  It is strange to listen to it converse with itself, in different voices.

But now is not the time to get distracted, as Kellon is greeted with a room covered in deep shadows. The shapes of chairs, tables, and lamps covered in white sheets is far eerier in the lamplight and the unsettling atmosphere of the house. More disturbing in a primal way are the mannequins also stored here, some covered and some left out in the open. The secret door, Kellon knows, is to his right upon entering.

There is an unlocked wooden trunk sitting near an iron stove, which seems a bit out of place amidst the covered furniture. Taking a peek inside, Kellon finds a pile of human remains wrapped in a familiar bloodstained nightgown.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Medicine 
Judging by the damage on the bones, the nursemaid suffered cranial trauma from a sharp object - calling to mind the bloodied edge of her writing desk. Her back and the bones of her left shoulder are damaged, as if from a fall... or being thrown through a wall. But it doesn't seem even that killed her, for there are many small nicks and scrapes along the bones that line up with the bloodstains on her dress. In the end, she was brutally stabbed to death - five times, by Kellon's count.
 
Prehysterical
 "It is very impressive,"  Kellon reassures Spider as he passes, trying not to listen too closely to the ghostly voices emanating in conversation from it.

Georgia's corpse is finally found in the chest and any doubt of foul play is gone from Kellon's mind. The nursemaid was viciously murdered, most likely by Lady Durst. Small wonder that she haunted this place.

After what happened with the black suit of armor, Kellon does not feel overly like taking chances. They will have to come back through this room eventually and he looks over the covered objects suspiciously. Chanting in a mix of tongues, Kellon attempts to coax the reveal of any magical energies that might be in the room.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon will perform a Ritual version of Detect Magic, which will take about 10 minutes. It should cover the entire room and even extend to the other side of the hall.
 
RandomWombat
Taking the time to scan the area around him for magic, Kellon senses nothing out of the ordinary save for the items already in the group's possession, on this floor. There is a single magical presence from the floor below, in the broom closet. In the time of the ritual, Gweyir finishes collecting the remains of the children and carries them on her back, walking in to find him. Anton is with her as well, carrying a shimmering vial of red liquid which also sets of Kellon's magic sense.

  "Find anything?"  
Prehysterical
Fighting a feeling of anticlimax, Kellon reminds himself that he should be glad that nothing bad happened. Turning to regard the pair, he answers,  "It seems that we missed something in that broom closet downstairs. I am going to investigate."  On his way down, he hands the Innocent card over to Anton.  "What can you tell us about this one? I found it in the stove in the other bedroom." 
RandomWombat
Anton takes the card in hand and examines it.  "If you don't mind waiting for an answer, I have begun to run a little dry on spells. While we are in no danger, it might be wiser for me to spend some time performing a ritual while you explore." 
  "Guess I'll keep sticking with him then. Spider can apparently pick locks, might be handy down there,"   Gweyir says, taking a wary look at the furniture much as Kellon had.   "Preferably somewhere else. Like in the kids' room or back the master bedroom."  
 "Friends Rose and Thorn know their way around!  I would be careful of the broom closet. The broom was made to attack mice, "  Spider chirps, shifting into Rose's voice halfway through.  "We were warned not to touch it." 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods his understanding of Anton's request. At the interruption from Rose and Thorn, he stops in place and holds up a finger in revelation.  "That must be it! The ensorcelled broom must be the source of the aura!"  Turning, Kellon comments,  "Well, that saved me a trip. I am in no rush, Gweyir, so we can all go back down to the master bedroom while Anton performs his ritual. The magic contained in that Tarokka card might prove useful, perhaps even life-saving." 
RandomWombat
And so they descend, back to the dusty third floor bedroom. Spider crawls down ahead of them through its hole in the floor, and is awaiting when they arrive. Anton takes the card and sets it on the table, laying a sheet of paper beneath it and beginning to construct a ritual circle with ink and pen.

Spider folds its legs beneath it and settles onto the floor, humming a tune - though whether it is Spider or one of the children who begins the humming isn't clear, as they soon all join in. Gweyir is standing nearby, pacing back and forth, her payload of bones in bags laid upon the bed for now.

With the circle trace complete, Anton holds out his hands on either side of the glyph and chants in some arcane tongue. A green glimmer, such as that between his hands when he casts the spell more swiftly, takes form in a dome around the card. His eyes widen a little a she peers down to the object's nature.

 "This one is certainly less foreboding than its sibling. Its magic forbids the bearer from doing harm to others unprovoked, but in turn shields those who do no harm. It calls to many others, tiny lights scattered like stars." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
The Innocent has been added to the Cards document.
 
Prehysterical
 "A worthy artifact,"  Kellon praises. He has no intention of using it himself at the moment, but it could definitely come in handy later, especially with the townsfolk. Looking at Gweyir, Kellon asks wryly,  "Well, shall we got on with it, lassie? You're liable to wear a hole through the floor at that rate. Down to the second level." 

The stairs are proving to be Kellon's favorite feature of the house. He thanks the stars, sky, and seas that the family's opulence included springing for stone stairs. He moves down to the bedroom immediately next to the staircase on the second level.
RandomWombat
  "Yes, we shall,"   the elf turns on the spot and nods, flashing a smirk of her own back.   "With this floor, it might just be a real risk."   She motions for Anton to go ahead and falls in behind him, with Spider taking up the rear - though it could easily overtake them by simply crawling along the ceiling.

Making their way back to the finer parts of the manor, Kellon finds that little details seem to have shifted or changed. In the landing above the stairs, the woodland scenes seem to have taken a darker turn. Bodies hang from trees, nooses around their necks, and the woodland critters frolicking below seem to have been replaced by writhing worms.

Further down, in the upper hall, he notes the two sets of double doors. Where the youths before seemed to dance merrily, they now frantically swipe at bats assailing them from above.  "Has everything always been this morbid?"  
 "I'm not sure. Maybe certain things just stand out more now?" 

As they others gather in the upper hall and enjoy some space, a relent from the cramped halls above, Kellon enters the servants' quarters. The room is undecorated, but as with everything on this floor in much better condition than those above. Two simple beds with straw mattresses each have a small footlocker at their end, and a closet to his left opens up to reveal pristine, ironed and ready to wear servants' uniforms.

A quick glance in the footlockers proves them to be empty, save for rolled up bedding not currently in use.

Spider crawls across the room and turns upwards, staring up at the family portrait above.
Prehysterical
Kellon suppresses a shudder as they pass the grim artwork. He doesn't know what possibility is more disturbing: that the art has changed during their stay, or that it has always been that way and they saw something else for a different reason. For that reason, he keeps his silence.

Nothing remarkable, malevolent or otherwise, is present in the servant quarters. Kellon steps out and over to the room next door. If he recalls correctly, there is a room hidden behind a bookshelf that very much warrants investigating.
RandomWombat
As he passes back through, Kellon sees that Anton has wiggled free another oil lamp to carry, replacing the one that broke upstairs.

The double doors open into a study. It is far from a grand library, with only a few rows of bookshelves, but those shelves are packed full. All manner of subjects among them - history, warfare, alchemy, first edition works of fiction and poetry, a few children's stories.

Two plush chairs flank another of many fireplaces that adorn the manor, and in front of them is a larger, oak writing desk. There is another oil lamp atop it, alongside a quill resting in a jar of ink, and a tinderbox for the fireplace. Inside of the desk is a pile of blank parchment, and a letter kit with a red wax candle and a wooden seal bearing the Durst family's windmill.

Going around into the alcove between the bookshelves, Kellon finds the last bookshelf, where the door is supposedly hidden. One of the books, red with a blank cover, stands out among the others. Kellon can see that the pages inside are fake, the texture of paper smoothed into the wood. With a pull of the book, the shelf pops, allowing Kellon a grip to slide it open.

Within is a smaller, cramped room. No desks or drawers, just more bookshelves, hidden here in the back. The tomes look eerie, with names such as Necromancies of the Priests of Osybus, or Gretelvuulf's Lesser Key of Fiends. At the end of the room is a large chest with iron clawed feet, much like the tub upstairs. The chest is partially open, with the lower half of a skeleton hanging out, clad in leather armor.

There is a creaking behind him as the door begins to swing shut, operated by a spring on the hinge, but a hand catches it from the other side. Gweyir pulls it back open and props it in place with her foot.
Prehysterical
It seems that the secret library of the family is just as dark as Kellon had feared. It would probably be easier to imagine what evils they had  not  tried to invoke.

Kellon gives a nod of thanks to Gweyir as he turns back to the chest.  "It seems that another looter came in here and paid with their life for it."  Kellon uses the tip of his spear to pry the top of the chest open the rest of the way.
RandomWombat
The top of the chest opens, and the skeleton's torso falls out, held together by its leather cuirass. Several darts are stuck into its chest, piercing the leather. A closer inspection finds them covered in a long since dried green substance, some kind of poison. But Kellon can see the trap mechanism inside the chest, and it seems it was never reloaded. Perhaps the Dursts were long dead when this unfortunate adventurer wandered in alone.

Within the chest are three books with black leather covers, their pages blank. They seem to be personal journals of excellent quality, completely unused, and might fetch a few coins. Unlike most jewels and gaudy trinkets here, they do have practical value... assuming the locals are literate. Deeper inside are the deed to the house and the deed to a windmill and the surrounding acres west of the village of Barovia, as well as a signed will and testament from Elisabeth and Gustav Durst, leaving their properties to Rosavalda and Thornboldt Durst in the event of their deaths. Underneath the legal documents are a trio of scrolls rolled up in leather cases.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Arcana 
The scrolls are of  bless ,  protection from poison , and  spiritual weapon .
 


And then there are the skull and other bones of the adventurer, having fallen apart into the chest. Kellon spots, clutched in its detached skeletal hand, a letter that its previous fleshy owner failed to pluck from the chest before he or she died.

 
 Spoiler: The Letter 
  My most pathetic servant,
I am not a messiah sent to you by the Dark Powers
of this land. I have not come to lead you on a path to
immortality. However many souls you have bled on your
hidden altar, however many visitors you have tortured
in your dungeon, know that you are not the ones who
brought me to this beautiful land. You are but worms
writhing in my earth.
You say that you are cursed, your fortunes spent. You
abandoned love for madness, took solace in the bosom
of another woman, and sired a stillborn son. Cursed by
darkness? Of that I have no doubt. Save you from your
wretchedness? I think not. I much prefer you as you are. 
 Your dread lord and master,
Strahd van Zarovich   
 
Prehysterical
Kellon wonders if the thief ever knew the value of what was inside the chest before they died... Dead men can't spend anything, after all. Kellon first picks up the scrolls and stows them away in his pack. He leaves the deeds alone for now and reads the letter clutched in the skeleton's death grip. The more Kellon reads, the more disgusted he becomes. This "Strahd" sounded like an oil spill, poison dropped into a well. This would need investigating...

Setting down the letter, Kellon picks up the enigmatic journals and looks at Gweyir sadly.  "Well, at least now we know what happened to little Walter... Gods, what a mess,"  he swears. Stepping out of the room, Kellon calls out.  "Anton! Spider! Come join us!" 

When the pair (quartet?) enter, Kellon passes the journals off to Anton.  "My eyes tell me that these are blank, but then why would they be locked up in a trapped trunk with the family's most valuable possessions? We need your truesight, lad. Something about this stinks worse than seaweed at low tide!" 

While Anton occupies himself, Kellon asks the ghost children inside of their spider friend,  "Rose, Thorn, do you know anything about Elizabeth and Gustav? I am guessing that they are your aunt and uncle?" 
RandomWombat
The others shuffle in - or linger outside, as the room has little space. Gweyir takes a look at the letter while Anton and Spider are finding their way.   "Stillborn. Poor nursemaid kept calling for him - she must have lost it in grief."  

Anton takes the journals and eyes some of the books on the shelves.  "I shall take a look through these, see what I can learn about what they were doing here. I'll just, er, step outside to the desk... pardon me,"  he tiptoes out, shuffling past Spider and Gweyir in the cramped space.

Spider climbs up onto the wall for more room and tilts its head at Kellon.  "Elisabeth and Gustav are our mom and dad.  Is this mama and papa special hiding place? " 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
For clarity, I had specified that Kellon had moved out into the larger library space instead of staying in the hidden compartment.
 


Kellon shakes his head and feels foolish at his mix-up.  "Er, one of their hiding places, yes, though I would wager not their most  special . And forgive me, children, but I was referring instead to Rosavalda and Thornboldt. Your mother and father left the house to them in their will." 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
My mistake, misread it as him stepping out to call Anton and Spider into the smaller room.
 


Everyone assembles in the more open space of the library after taking a look at the smaller room. Spider's body emits a small girl's giggle.  "That's us, silly!  Silly silly!  Rose and Thorn. We don't go by our full names because they're too long." 
Prehysterical
Kellon's eyes visibly flick as he connects the dots in his head and a look of embarrassment somehow works its way onto his beaked snout. He gives a good-natured laugh at his own lack of observation.  "Ah, yes, I suppose I should have recognized that. I shall make the excuse that we tortles don't normally do nicknames. Still, that does raise the question... Do you two have any family outside of your parents? Anyone else living in Barovia that is related to you?" 
RandomWombat
Spider raises a single foreleg up under its head in a curiously human gesture, though it may be Rose doing it rather than the arachnid itself.  "Let me think... do you remember big cousin Fiona, Thorn?  Yea. Fio-na.  What was her last name? She was engaged to Nick something.  Water?  Mmm, Nick and Fiona Water? That sounds close." 
  "If they're nobles, I'm sure some of the locals would recognize the name."   Gweyir pauses and looks outside through the windows of the study, where the Mist still clings to the glass.   "Assuming we can ever  leave  this house."  
 "Don't worry, Gweyir An Elf! We'll find a way!" 

Breathing in for a moment, Gweyir lets out a small half-laugh half-sigh.   "Gweyir is fine, Spider. No... need for formalities between friends."  
 "Okay!" 
Prehysterical
Gweyir's comment is an unwelcome (but understandable) reminder of the Mist that is ever present outside. Kellon wonders in his mind just how long they will be stranded here... The food will only last so long. He struggles to keep himself from laughing at Gweyir's expasperation.

 "Well, at the risk of running out of things to do, I suggest that we investigate the room across the hall while Anton is performing his inspection."  Kellon steps across the hall to do just that.
RandomWombat
Turning to follow Kellon, Gweyir strides out of the room in his tow. Spider crawls over to Anton's borrowed desk and lifts up to peek at what he's doing, an identification sigil in progress around one of the journals.

The door to the next room opens up, revealing the wide open tile floor of the ballroom. All of the furnishings are around the edge, wooden chairs with blue cushions arrayed beneath painted figures on the walls, dancing and playing instruments. About half of the figures have no flesh upon their bones, painted forms of skeletal merrymakers.

Two large instruments adorn the room. An old, but well maintained harpsichord and a tall standing harp. At the back end of the room is another fireplace. To the right of the fireplace is a silver flagpole, adorned with a flag. There are four colored squares, red on the top right and bottom left, purple on the bottom right and top left. In the center where they intersect is a simplistic figure of a raven.

The flagpole itself, on closer inspection, is a spear set into a stand on the floor. The head of the spear is not very sharp, but could be sharpened again with a whetstone. As it is, it is perhaps better called a silver club.

  "Think they had the 'guests' dance with them here, before they dragged them down to the basement?"   Gweyir asks in a disdainful voice.
Prehysterical
Kellon looks skeptically between the instruments and the flagpole at the edge of the room.  "Even if I knew the answer to that question, would it make any difference,"  he retorts lightly.

Since they have some time while Anton makes his observations, and nothing immediately jumps out at them, Kellon begins performing his own ritual to probe for the ebb of magic in the room. Now that he is no longer concerned with crashing through the floor, Kellon dances lightly to better facilitate his gestures, shifting from one foot to the other as he chants.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Another ritual of Detect Magic.
 
RandomWombat
As Kellon performs his ritual dance, Gweyir watches from the doorway, leaning on the frame. It takes a bit to fully perform, but finally his senses flow out. But no more magical forces are at play nearby, save the one he recognizes upstairs - the mouse-killing broom.

Not long after, Anton comes up to the door with Spider behind him, carrying the two journals. Kellon senses no magic in them, in his hands.  "Well, these are just what they seem. Empty journals. I tried checking for invisible ink as well, but no luck. As for the other books, I left those behind,"  he motions over his shoulder.  "Complete nonsense. If they were performing those rituals, nothing would have come from it." 
Prehysterical
It may seem like a waste of ten minutes, but Kellon is happy to be overly cautious. Time is something they have plenty of.

Soon, he learns that Anton's search was equally as fruitless. Kellon can't decide if it is somehow worse that all of the foul rituals performed by the parents of the household did not even have any basis in actual function.  "Well, I appreciate you being thorough, Anton."  Looking down and blinking at the books, Kellon looks back up at Anton and asks,  "What about the third journal? More of the same?" 
RandomWombat
 "Yes, I have it here,"  he pulls up the flap of his messenger bag. The book is there, alongside some other writing materials.  "Would you like them? I have my own." 
  "So you know the dark rituals are bogus from experience, do you?"   the druid leaning in the doorway between them asks, nudging Anton in the side with an elbow.

 "Of course,"  the man readjusts his coat proudly.  "As I said, I take pride in doing my research. Knowing the dark arts is not the same as using them, you know." 
Prehysterical
Kellon waves off the offer with visible contempt.  "I'm more than happy to leave the book learning to you, lad. I am a student of the school of life." 

In a way, Kellon can see Anton's argument. Just because servants of the Tempest could call forth typhoons and thunderstorms did not mean that they did so at every opportunity. Still, the man's enthusiasm for such dark matters was uncanny...

 "All right, let's be on with it,"  Kellon tells the other two.  "Back down to the main floor. Let's see if anything has changed..." 

Down on the main floor, Kellon decides to check the smallest room first.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
That would be room 2B on the map.
 
RandomWombat
With a shrug, Anton tucks away the empty journals and walks along with the others down to the first floor. This place, too, seems a little more morbid than they left it. The images of flowering vines along the wall revealed as serpents, the flowers hiding imagery of skulls. Where the satyr in the statue with the nymph once seemed joyous, now his gaze seems lecherous and diabolical.

A glance into the door, and Kellon recalls it as the coat closet. There remain inside a few black coats, and a black top hat.

 "For some folks, all they have is book learning you know,"  Anton converses as they traverse.  "Most folks back home, where I'm from, they don't even know about the supernatural. Government keeps it all hush hush. And when they read books by other hacks they learn all sort of old deep-held superstitions that are just completely untrue. When they read  my  books, they are armed with knowledge. And if they should encounter some dark force, perhaps they can manage to escape. Little survival manuals, hidden as leisure reading, and all without blowing the top on government secrets that will see witch hunters at my doorstep." 
Prehysterical
The closet proves to be uninteresting, but Anton's ramblings for once capture Kellon's attention. He turns from the closet and stares at the man in disbelief.  "Wait... How does a government stop people from learning about  magic ? Spirits? Demons? They are all an integral part of the cosmos! Why, that would be like me trying to hide me shell!"  Kellon clacks the Spear of Light against his carapace in emphasis.  "What about your wizards and sorcerers? The servants of your gods? Druids of nature and scheming warlocks? Can your government really control  all  of that?" 
RandomWombat
 "Oh yes, quite,"  Anton nods.  "Magic users must be licensed or employed by the government, and are legally obligated to keep their activities hidden. In the event of a major supernatural event, they all - myself included - are expected to participate in mass application of illusions, enchantments, and alchemical amnestics to keep the populace at large in the dark." 
  "And you said witch hunters will track you down if you don't?"   her interest captured as well, Gweyir, steps forward to join in the questioning.

 "Yes. In England, the worship of gods besides the 'One True God' - a false idol of perfect order and obedience invented to sap the true gods of worshipers and thus their power - is the only recognized religion. Pagan worshipers, unlicensed spellcasters, those who break the masquerade, all are pursued and eliminated by the witch hunters. Druid circles are expected to remain in their 'preserves' and avoid interaction with the general populace, where they care for controlled populations of magical creatures such as Spider." 
 "Controlled population?"  Spider asks, not really understanding the meaning.

 "Well, um. Keeping there from being too many of you... putting it in nice terms." 
  "That's- that's absolutely insane! Why would they go to such lengths?"  
 "Wars of men, wars of gods, vampire lords and wild magic,"  the scholarly writer explains.  "In the true history, time and again, the world has nearly come to an end. More than once we have been set back an age or more in progress. And so the governments of Europe have settled upon pacts to quell the spread of unchecked magic, and drain the gods of their power."  He shakes his head.  "I don't agree with it. As far as I'm concerned, they are leaving the greater populace completely unprepared should something happen again. They can't cage the world, not realistically. They can barely cage Europe." 
Prehysterical
Haunted houses, restless spirits, and blood cultists were one thing, but the world that Anton describes is... not just merely an authoritarian dream worthy of Hell. It is a world of madness masquerading as control. And the idea of intentionally leading people away from the gods... There is irreverence, there is blasphemy, and then there is downright  apostasy!!!  Kellon grips his spear tightly to restrain his outburst, like a black thunderhead waiting to unleash its cargo of lightning.

Finally, Kellon can only sigh in sadness.  "I suppose that they also plan to leash the tides, quash the waves, and shush the wind. What folly... You are right, Anton. Nature cannot be contained in such a way. All the artifice of man cannot compare to the sheer raw power of the elements themselves. There is no wall too high for the ocean, no way to fight the tides. I fear what will happen for the people of 'Europe'..."  With a snort of disgust, Kellon concludes,  "All we can ever do is be responsible for ourselves, for our own survival. Deal with the tide as it comes. Speaking of which, I suppose we should get on with the business of living... and scouring this den of evil."  He makes his way to the room to the right, expecting to see the kitchen.
RandomWombat
And the kitchen indeed he does see, as depicted in the dollhouse. There is a wash basin full of clear, clean water, a counter armed with an array of cutting tools and a cutting board, a rolling pin, a cabinet filled with fine ceramics and glassware, a cabinet filled with silverware - all of the forks, spoons and knives appear to be real silver. On the far left end of the room, from the door, is a large stone dome-shaped oven. Beside it is a thin wooden door to a well-stocked pantry full of fresh produce and even some smoked meats.

Spider crawls inside the kitchen and makes a beeline (spiderline) to the dumbwater. Using a pair of limbs with surprising dexterity, it operates the pulley system and lifts the dumbwaiter out of the way, then peeks in below it.  "Over here, Kellon!  This is my secret hiding place. "  When he comes over to look, Spider-Thorn moves aside. In the bottom of the dumbwaiter shaft is a small pile of loose coins and a small wooden toy horse.

 
 Spoiler: Dumbwaiter Loot 
5 gold and a wooden horse figurine.
 


While Kellon explores the kitchen, Gweyir opens the other door beside it and takes a look inside, where a wood-paneled dining room is dominated by a mahogany table and eight high-backed chairs. More highly polished silverware and glassware is laid out upon the table, and a crystal chandelier hangs above it. The walls are decorated with images of deer loping through the woods - woods with trees displaying horrified visages writhing in the bark, and wolves lurking in the foliage.

A large tapestry depicts horse-mounted aristocratic hunters with dogs chasing down a wounded wolf.
Prehysterical
Considering the state that most of the house is in, Kellon is astounded at the kitchen. Kellon follows when Spider calls and stops himself from chuckling at the child's self-congratulation.  "A very good hiding spot,"  he tells the child. The gold coins got into Kellon's pouch, but he leaves the wooden toy horse alone.

Popping his head into the dining room, Kellon questions Gweyir.  "The food in the pantry is still edible! It looks like these fruits and vegetables were just plucked from a garden. How is that possible?" 
RandomWombat
Spider('s guest) seems to beam up at Kellon at the praise. When the horse is left behind, Spider tucks it into a small bag made out of spider silk that it seems to have woven together at some point.

In the next room, Gewyir is looking up a the tapestry with some disdain. She glances back down at Kellon when he speaks.   "Hm? Let me see."   Following him back, she inspects the food in the pantry, kneeling down and picking a carrot out of a basket.   "It certainly should not be fresh. Kept in the open like this it should have rotted away long ago."   With her other hand she breaks off a tiny piece of the carrot and places it in her mouth, chewing. A frown grows on her face and she spits it out onto the floor.

 "Perhaps just a glamour. Was it rotten?"  Anton asks.

  "Tastes of nothing,"   the druid answers, standing back up.   "You may not be wrong. The way all the scenery changed gets me as well. Something's off about this house, and it's not just the spirits."  
Prehysterical
A small part of Kellon is sad that the food isn't actually real, but at least it's also not a poisoned bait. He stops to ponder something that has been bothering him.  "Why is it that the first two floors are so clean, but the third floor is a-"  Kellon looks down at Spider and changes his wording.  "a dust-ridden mess? Maybe they aren't actually clean, but there is some magic that makes it appear that way? But why?" 
RandomWombat
  "I don't know,"   her tone makes it clear that Gweyir does not like her answer any more than Kellon does. She steps past the others back into the main hall and regards the room, more cautiously than before.

 "Maybe the answers will be in the basement,"  Anton suggests. Thorn's voice makes a quiet whimper from Spider's form, and Spider and Rose both attempt to comfort him with quiet encouragement and lullabies.

  "There is but one room left to explore,"   Gweyir states, looking at last to the final door. She opens it. Inside is an oak paneled room, a blend between a hunter's trophy room and a sitting room to entertain guests. Above the fireplace sits a stag's head, stuffed as a trophy. Three whole stuffed wolves are placed around the room, as if circling the seating before the fireplace. The two padded chairs are draped in animal furs, and between them is an oak table with a cask of wine sitting upon it, along with a pair of carved wooden goblets, a rack upon which rest two tobacco pipes, and a candelabra. In one corner of the room is another wooden table, surrounded by four chairs. Wine glasses are arranged before each seating place; a chandelier - less fanciful than the one in the dining hall - hangs above it.

There are two cabinets in the room. The northern one is unlocked, containing a wooden box with a deck of playing cards, and a set of wine glasses. The western cabinet is a glass display case that Kellon recognizes from the doll house. Inside on display are three crossbows, of varying sizes. Accompanying each weapon is a quiver of full metal bolts, half iron and half silver. This cabinet is held shut by a lock, and the glass seems thick.

 
 Spoiler: Cabinet Loot 
Inside he can see a heavy crossbow, a light crossbow, and a hand crossbow. There are three quivers, each containing 10 regular bolts and 10 silver bolts.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon doesn't even need to look in Gweyir's direction to feel her disapproval of the space. He steers clear of the wine and crockery and stands before the glass case, looking at it in serious consideration. His eyes widen in sudden remembrance and flit to look at Spider.  "Spider, my little friend, you were wanting to show us how you can use little bones to pick locks, right? Well, I think this is the perfect opportunity to try!" 
RandomWombat
Crawling eerily around the frame of the door, Spider transfers from the wall to the ground fluidly and approaches the cabinet.  "I'll show you my special talent!"  Spider announces happily, drawing a set of bones from the little bag, sharpened to points and with little ridges made in mimicry of lockpicking tools.

Spider sets the bones into the little grasping mandibles of its mouth and stands up against the cabinet, fiddling with the lock with surprising dexterity. After only a few moments, there is a click as the cabinet unlocks.  "Huvay!"  Spider mumbles around the bones still held in its mouth. Anton claps his hands from the doorway, and Gweyir has an impressed smile on her face.
Prehysterical
Spider's enthusiasm is simply too infectious. Combined with the spider's muffled cry, Kellon gives a hearty laugh.  "Well done, little one! You just did with your mouth what most folk can't do with full fingers!"  He reaches down and scratches Spider's head affectionately, taking care with the tips of his claws.

Opening the cabinet, Kellon tells the other two,  "Well, if no one has any objections, I'll be taking this monster here."  He hefts the heavy crossbow. More than three times as heavy as his old crossbow, but he knows that the pull strength is greater, as is the range and stopping power.
RandomWombat
Gweyir approaches the cabinet as well, joining in giving Spider affectionate scratches on its back. All of the attention elicits what might generously be called a purr, and more accurately be called a tittering noise. She plucks the light crossbow from among those on display and claims the bolts that go with it.

Examining the hand crossbow, Anton admits,  "I'm really not familiar with the smaller design. Perhaps I could borrow your spare?"  he asks, motioning to the still slightly damp driftwood crossbow Kellon carries.  "Either way, we may as well take it. Could be worth something."  Gweyir nods and picks up the hand crossbow, tucking it away.

  "Maybe we can teach Spider to use it,"   she suggests half-jokingly.
Prehysterical
In response to Anton's request, Kellon reaches back with a practiced motion and pulls the crossbow from over his shoulder. He holds it out for Anton to take.  "Never had to use this too much, but I was always happy to have it when I did. T'won't be the weapon that fails ye, I'll tell you that!"  After Anton takes the lighter crossbow, Kellon takes some of the bolts from the cabinet.

Kellon knows that Gweyir's jest was not meant to hurt, but he points a claw at her to reinforce the idea.  "If you had told me before yesterday that a spider could learn to pick locks, I'd have told you to stop drinking seawater. If Spider can manage lockpicks, then Spider can sure as thunder learn to pull a trigger!" 

Looking between the others, Kellon reluctantly voices what they are all thinking.  "Well, that's every room in the house... except for the basement. What are you thinking? Straight into the sea serpent's lair, or do you want a bit of time to rest? I know that you've spent most of your magic, Anton. I will abide by whatever decision is made." 
RandomWombat
 "Given an hour, I can prepare us an additional healing elixir and restore some of my spent magic,"  Anton suggests.  "I do not think it would do us well to sleep in this house again if we do not have need. I'm wondering if this... decaying of decorum,"  he motions around at the formerly innocuous, now macabre scenery,  "Is only the beginning of some process." 
  "Have you noticed anything changing since you've been staying here, Spider?"   Gweyir asks, looking down.

 "Nope." 
  "Hm... then again, maybe the house just considers Spider to be more of a  feature  than  prey ."   She looks around following Anton's gesture, shuddering at the thought that the house - or something influencing it - might be watching.
Prehysterical
Anton raises a very good point.  "Very well. May as well rest here, since there are seats and all."  He tries not to think about the implication that they are being toyed with. That way lies madness, like a sailor too long at sea and desperate for any hint of land or a woman.  "I'd almost be tempted to light the fireplace for a touch of warmth, but it might just open up a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire or some layer of Hell for all I bloody know."  Kellon sits in one of the padded chairs, the ability to actually sit on something comfortable a rare treat.
RandomWombat
Anton goes over to the card table and takes a seat, opening up his spellbook and getting to work. Gweyir takes the second seat in front of the fireplace, and Spider folds its legs beneath itself, lying on the ground in front of them.   "Almost feels comfortable,"   the elf's gaze flickers to her side.   "If not for the prowling wolves in the periphery."  

She sighs and tries her best to relax.   "So you lived out in the islands, Kellon?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon gives a contented sigh as he sinks into the seat before answering.  "Aye. I never knew if the island that we lived on had a name, but we always called it 'Stormshield'. Something about the layout of the island made it a safe haven against the great storms that came through. Mother and Father thought it would be a nice, quiet place to hatch me and raise me and live out the last year of their lives."  He speaks casually of the death of his parents.  "It was rough at first, dealing with the idea of being alone and knowing it was inevitable, but they always warned me about it and gave me a great deal of advice. I buried them on that island. I even used their old rowboat as a coffin to protect their bodies in case the sand was swept away.

I lived alone for a while. At first, I ignored ships when they passed and actively resented any shore parties. In time, though, I got lonely. I started wandering here and there, staying only as long as I liked. I don't know how much of that was due to my kind's wanderlust and how much was the Tempest sweeping me up in the current."  He stops and looks at Gweyir.  "What about you? How does a druid end up on a pirate hunters' ship?"  At the time, Kellon had not felt like learning their names was worth the time... It is enough to make him feel at least a little guilty.
RandomWombat
She fiddles with the pommel of the Dursts' silver sword, looking a little forlorn.   "We are a circle of Dreamers, living along the coast of Tethyr. You lived in what we would call the Sea of Swords, notorious for many small uncharted islands... and many pirates,"   she relays, though it sounds more like she's dancing around the important thing by finding other things to say.   "It was mainly wood elves. I'm technically half wood elf, but I take more after my father,"   she rambles a little before sitting up straighter and getting more to the point.

  "The 'wolf pirates' we were tracking were not only raiding ships, but also the shores. They only take the young, and they abducted my younger brother - among others. That's why I joined up on the  Spurned Falcon . I hoped to learn where they take their captives."  
Prehysterical
 "And now the Falcon is truly spurned and we are arguably abducted as well,"  Kellon observes wryly.  "But why did they call them wolf pirates? 
RandomWombat
Spider raises a single limb to pat Gweyir on the leg. But it's Rose's voice that speaks,  "I'm sorry. I hope you can find him... I don't know what I would do if I lost Thorn." 

Taking a deep breath and swallowing, Gweyir nods.   "Thanks, Rose."   She looks back over at Kellon and answers,   "The rumors claim that the pirates are part man and part beast. Some go further and call them wolf men. They could be gnolls."  
 "Or werewolves,"  Anton speaks up, drawing Gweyir's gaze.  "Lycanthropes. Transform under the light of the moon into wolves, or partially between. Infectious,"  he holds up a hand at that word, as if in warning.

  "I never considered that,"   the druid admits with a frown.   "Usually on the sea you'd expect something like weresharks."  
 "Weresharks... never heard of such a thing. But I suppose anything is possible."  The man's work affords a second glance, as there appears to be a half-formed glass vial made out of shimmering reddish light floating in front of him, slowly gathering more material as he works in his spellbook with one hand and performs arcane gestures around it with the other.
Prehysterical
Kellon gently reminds Gweyir,  "It could also be that that particular lot are just hairier than usual or have some kind of wolf symbol. Magic isn't always involved, even if it is common throughout. Still, not that it matters at the moment. We have far bigger problems on our claws."  He looks out the window and curses,  "I'd rather fight an entire fleet of pirates than spend another day with this damned Mist!" 

Anton's magical preparations are visually interesting, but magic takes all sorts of forms. It seems like there are many different ways to channel the energy and people just use different methods. Looking down at Spider, Kellon remembers something that the townsfolk said yesterday.  "I heard someone here say that the ocean is a myth. Is that what the grown-ups told you, Rose?" 
RandomWombat
 "Oh, yes,"  Rose answers, with Spider turning to look up at Kellon with his eight eyes. One might wonder if it's strange looking out of so many eyes for the possessing spirits.  "I learned in my history lessons that long ago, before the devil Strahd ruled Barovia, its rivers ran to the ocean as all rivers do. But no one has seen the ocean for generations now." 
 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception 
As he looks out the window, Kellon notices a silhouette of a hunched figure walking through the Mists outside, seemingly unhindered. Should he move to take a closer look, he can see that it is a crooked old woman, her hair tied back with a colorful bandana.
 
Prehysterical
Normally, there would be a lot to unpack in Rose's statement, but the sight outside has Kellon flailing and rocking in his chair to get his shelled bulk standing.  "By the Eye of the Storm! There's someone out there!!!"  Kellon hurries over to the window, trying to get a better look.

Anton had mentioned that Strahd's messenger was unconcerned by the Mist... Could this strange woman be another of the devil's cronies?
RandomWombat
Seeing Kellon's reaction, Gweyir stands up, and Spider scrambles to its 'feet'. In spite of his obvious curiosity as he glances over, Anton does not abandon his rituals to go take a look out of the window.

 " Are they in danger?  I don't think so. It must be one of the Vistani. They are servants of the devil Strahd, and they can walk safely through the Mists of Ravenloft." 
  "Dammit, we can't even go out there to question her,"   Gweyir curses.
Prehysterical
 "Something tells me that we should be glad that we can't confront her, Gweyir... If she can freely traverse the Mist with no ill effects, I don't know if we could even do anything. Devils don't dole out rewards to weaklings. But why would she be here? It's not like this village is important in any way... Is it?"  Kellon looks down at Spider for confirmation, realizing that he is making assumptions.
RandomWombat
 "The Vistani are spies, that report back to their master. We should shut the curtains." 
 "Then I have good news, because I am just... about... done,"  with a final gesture, Anton finishes conjuring a shimmering vial of red liquid. He takes it and reaches down, slipping it into Spider's silk pouch.  "Just drink that if you're hurt, little fella. Should fix you right up. I should caution you that it will disappear in about a day, however." 
  "Alright,"   Gweyir grabs the curtains and draws them across her window as she turns around.   "Does that mean we're ready to go up to the hidden staircase?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon does as Rose recommends, though he tries to do so naturally and not draw attention. He wonders if it is too late, if this spy has already seen whatever she was looking for...

He nods grimly in response to Gweyir's question.  "Aye. This will be unpleasant business, but needs must. Spider, perhaps you should stay back with the children. There's no telling what we might find down there...."  His claws grip tightly onto the Spear of Light.
RandomWombat
 "But I want to help!"  Spider insists, sounding put out.  "I'll be very sad if my new friends don't come back.  I'll cover Thorn's eyes if we see anything bad.   We'll be good, promise! " 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives a reptilian hiss of displeasure, then puts his forehead into one hand. Spider is more mobile than anyone in the house. If the trio make up their minds to follow, they'll just do so. With a great big sigh, Kellon finally relents, but glares pointedly at Spider.

 "You are to stay out of the way and let the adults handle things. If I tell you to run, you put all eight of those legs to use, understand me? And no talking unless absolutely necessary, all right? If you really want everyone to make it through this, you will do as I ask. No games here; this is serious business." 
RandomWombat
Spider lowers its head and pulls its mandibles together.  "Okay, I will go into super sneaky mode!" 
Prehysterical
 "All right... Let's see this done, then."  Kellon says nothing more as they begin making their way up to the attic. He doesn't necessarily drag his feet to get there, but he is also not in a monstrous hurry. The darkest corners of his mind are furiously at work imagining what they might find in the vile hidden guts of this place, like water in the bilge...
RandomWombat
From the top of the wretched house, the descent begins. The stairs spiral downwards, for what feels like forever, into the dark. The stairs beneath are lit only by the spear held before Kellon, and the firelight of Anton's oil lamp behind him. Gweyir walks between, with Spider at the rear.

The stairs are rickety old wood, and Kellon can see as the descend no supports beneath each step. Yet these do not creak, they do not bend, they do not yield in the slightest to his weight. As if the rot in them has only made them stronger. The cramped space within the spiral seems to close in from all angles, particularly around Kellon's wide shell, drawing out feelings of claustrophobia.

At last, a tunnel emerges into view at the bottom of the staircase. Distant sounds of voices can be heard, in a chanting too distant to hear, echoing from the depths. The walls are stone, hewn from the earth, with wooden support beams at regular intervals.
Prehysterical
Everything about this place stinks to the heavens. Sure, it was convenient that the stairs did not give under Kellon's weight, but that only made them all the more suspicious. Kellon had always thought the inner decks of ships to be restrictive, but the darkness and spiraling tightness of this staircase... It was nightmare inducing for someone used to the open sky and without darkvision. Only a sense of duty kept him moving forward.

At last, they reach the bottom. The tunnel branches into different paths and the unsettling drone of chanting can be just heard. Kellon stops to get his bearings, trying to pinpoint the direction of the chanting.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Perception:  (1d20+3)[ 19 ] 
 
RandomWombat
With the sound echoing back and forth from both directions, it is impossible to tell from where the chanting is coming yet. Or if it is coming from anywhere at all.

  "We're right behind you,"   Gweyir states encouragingly.
Prehysterical
Well, it was worth a shot. For lack of any better ideas, Kellon immediately turns left to explore that part of the tunnel.
RandomWombat
Passing by a side passage, Kellon can see within are two empty, unmarked and unfinished crypts. The stone slabs meant to seal them are placed aside, and the interiors contain no coffins or sarcophagi. To the left the corridor turns, down a short flight of stone stairs, where a wooden table sits in a room.
Prehysterical
Kellon makes his way down into the room, his eyes darting around as he sees a few potential entry/exit points.
RandomWombat
Just off of the simple table and chairs are some small alcoves containing moldy straw pallets. Another path leads on, down another brief set of stairs into what looks like a larger chamber.
Prehysterical
 "I guess this is where the 'guests' would end up staying,"  Kellon surmises. It seems like they might be drawing closer to the heart of the complex. Kellon looks to the others and suggests,  "We should go back and check the other passage first. Not very fond of the idea of leaving our backs open, especially if we have to get out in a hurry." 
RandomWombat
  "Good plan,"   Gweyir agrees with a nod, stepping aside to let Kellon through as the group reverses their order and traverses back down the path.

Coming to a four-way intersection...

To Kellon's left and right are four more crypts, these ones marked and named. To his left are two marked for Gustav (C) and Elizabeth (D) Durst. To his right are two marked for Rosavalda (E) and Thornboldt (F) Durst. Straight ahead is a slightly wider room with a wooden table, and two benches on either side. It seems to have once been an eating space.
Prehysterical
This new development is puzzling.  "Why would they have crypts constructed for their children,"  Kellon wonders. He moves to open the door to Rose's crypt just to see what is inside.
RandomWombat
Inside the crypt is a chamber with an empty coffin and a stone bier.

 "This appears to be a family tomb,"  Anton looks down the other hallway, towards the parents' crypts.  "Saw some empty ones just back there, too. Might have been expanding it for future generations." 

Spider crawls along the wall to reach ahead, and the two spirits step out of their arachnid companion to regard their own crypts.  "Is this where we supposed to sleep?"  Thorn asks quietly.

 "I think so. I think we weren't suppose to sleep here until we were a lot older, Thorn,"  the young ghost rubs her brother's back comfortingly.
Prehysterical
 "Yes, I'm sure your Mommy and Daddy didn't mean for you to go to sleep like you did,"  Kellon says as he tries to comfort the child. He opens Thorn's crypt, just to be sure. The whole point is to be thorough, after all.
RandomWombat
Thorn's crypt, as well, lay empty, the coffin awaiting its designated inhabitant.

  "I'm not familiar with Barovian burial customs, obviously. Often our dead would simply be left in the woods to feed the forest, or buried in our gardens to feed our plants,"   Gweyir begins, taking the pillowcases from her back and looking at them.   "Do you think that we should put you to rest here?"  
 "I don't know... I think I'll be okay as long as I'm buried at the same time as Thorn. He's always afraid when he has to go anywhere alone."  As if to punctuate her statement, the young boy takes hold of her hand, seemingly afraid she might vanish.
Prehysterical
Kellon holds up a clawed hand to forestall Gweyir.  "What say we make sure that this place is sanctified and cleansed of evil before we start performing any last rites, eh?"  If Kellon had his way, these children would leave this house never to return.

He had not been expecting too foul in checking the children's crypts, but a cold feeling washes over him as he looks across the hall. Kellon moves to inspect the crypt of Gustav.
RandomWombat
Gweyir nods and slings the sacks back over her shoulder. Thorn and Rose retreat into Spider, as Kellon ventures to the other crypts. Whatever expectations Kellon may have had for the crypt, he moves away the stone slab in the way to reveal... another empty coffin on a stone bier.
Prehysterical
That is perfectly fine by Kellon. All that remains is to check Elizabeth's crypt.
RandomWombat
This time, however, the scene is different. The coffin within Elisabeth's crypt sits shut, and the back wall has collapsed, spilling wet dirt into the room and partially covering the opposite end of the coffin.
Prehysterical
Kellon has grown a little complacent, but this new development snaps him to attention. He hesitates before asking the others,  "What could have caused the back wall to give out?

...Should we open it?" 
RandomWombat
Anton steps up to peer in past Kellon.  "Hm. Shoddy construction, unexpected rain coalescing above? It appears to be water damage at any rate." 
  "Bet a zombie pops out,"   Gweyir comments. She pauses and glances back at Spider,   "Sorry, that was a little irreverent."  
 "It's alright... father was always better to us than mother was,"  Rose's voice replies sadly.
Prehysterical
There was a strong argument to be made that things should be left well enough alone. The question had its hooks in Kellon, though. He  had  to know.

Without a word, Kellon steps forward and opens the coffin.
RandomWombat
Kellon tugs the lid of the coffin aside, and more dirt unsettled by the motion sifts down, into the empty container. No body. Then Kellon notices shapes writhing up out of the dirt, many-legged and fanged. Their tiny eyes glowing with a haunting blue light, the tide of centipedes crawls forwards eerily, silent and swaying.

Anton responds quickly, drawing his and and pointing it at the swarm.  "Suffosio!"  he proclaims, his spell causing some writhing and discomfort among the swarm.

At the same time, Gweyir's ears perk up.   "Something slithering... look out behind!"   She spins around to face the small mess area, where a creature with scales that glimmer and shift in color with the stone beneath slithers towards her.   "It's a Grick!"  
  "Ignitum,"   Her blade in hand, she faces the creature and conjures a bonfire between it and herself, hoping to give it pause.

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Gweyir - 17
Anton - 16
Kellon - 15
Spider - 10
Grick - 10
Centipede Swarm - 2
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Gweyir casts Create Bonfire.
Anton casts 'Suffosio' on Centipede Swarm, dealing  3  necrotic damage.

It is Kellon's turn.
 

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Arcana 
Kellon is unfamiliar with Gricks.
 
Prehysterical
The manner of cosmic punishment for Kellon's intrusion takes a rather unexpected form. The centipedes appear even more unsettling in the shadows cast in the crypt, but Kellon recognizes the species as nonvenomous. It is a minor relief, but he knows that their bites are painful and it sounds like the group is being flanked. Kellon does not know what a 'grick' is, but it sounds very unpleasant.

Half a dozen different courses of action spring to mind, but Kellon realizes that it would be better to fight one front at a time. The tortle backs up and puts his shoulder into closing the crypt back up.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Athletics check:  (1d20+4)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Gripping the sides of the slab, Kellon begins to lift it back into place. But in his haste, it slips through his claws with a clattering sound and nearly lands upon his foot, making a loud bang as it impacts the stone floor. The swarm soon overtakes him, crawling up his legs and into crevices they ought not, but he is able to sweep and shake them off before they can complete their assault.

Whipping his wand around, Anton focuses on the part of the swarm still crawling on the floor, as he backs away. With another incantation, his spell causes the swarm to writhe and fall as they try to get a hold on Kellon's feet.

Spider crawls up the wall and onto the ceiling, hanging above the corridor and preparing for the Grick's approach. The serpentine creature hesitates only momentarily before slithering through the fire to grab at its prey. Before it can attack, Spider twists with surprising flexibility, launching webs that cover the monster. It squeals as both it and the webs begin to burn, and lashes out at Gweyir with a tentacle. She raises her blade and blocks, holding her ground.

Bringing the sword up, she drives it down. The blade catches on its hard beak, bouncing off.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon attempts to seal the crypt, but loses his grip.
Spider moves into the ceiling and readies an action to shot web.

Grick moves into the fire and is hit by Spider's readied Web, becoming Restrained. It takes  2  fire damage, and the web takes  8  fire damage.
Grick attempts to lash Gweyir, but misses.

Centipede Swarm attacks Kellon, but misses.

Gweyir attacks Grick, but misses.
Anton casts 'Suffosio' on Centipede Swarm, dealing  3  necrotic damage.

It is now Kellon's turn.
 
Prehysterical
Closing the crypt is no longer an option. He hears the hellish squeal of the grick out in the hallway, too concerned with his own immediate situation to worry too much about Gweyir.

Kellon wants to use his thunder magic, but there is a real possibility that the entire tunnel could collapse on top of him. With the vermin wriggling around and on him, Kellon invokes a blessing.  "Sunburst!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Word of Radiance
 
RandomWombat
The light scorches the eerie blue light out of some of the centipedes, sending them scurrying away as their natural instincts take over once more. But the sheer number soon overpower the holy light as waves of them swarm up his lower body. White hot pain shoots through him as they begin to bite at anything they can crawl into.

 "Ah- hold on! I'll ah, really hope this hits,"  Anton begins performing more complex gestures in the air with his wand, carefully stabilizing the magic with his free hand.  "Striga Fulmen!"  From his wand and the tips of his fingers, many small bolts of blue lightning arc out and jump between the centipedes. Kellon, remarkably, is not electrocuted - though he feels a distinct static charge in the air around him.


 "Hsss!" 

Crawling up above the Grick, Spider reaches down from the ceiling over the fire and jabs its fangs into the monster, which shrieks as clear streaks of poison leak from its wounds. As it pulls away, a Grick tentacle reaches up and grabs onto it, the barbed surface tearing out some hairs as it tries and fails to capitalize with its razor sharp beak. The Grick falls back down into the flames, as the last of the webs burn away.

Another slash from her sword fails to connect, as Gweyir swings. The Grick, now freed from the webbing, swerves around her swipe and makes a fierce warbling call like that of a bird.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Hand of Radiance, dealing  2  radiant damage to the swarm.
Spider attacks the Grick with a bite, scoring a Sneak Attack for  5  damage and dealing  10  poison damage.

Grick lashes Spider for  4  damage, but fails to hit with its beak. It takes  3  fire damage, and the webs are destroyed.
Centipede Swarm attacks Kellon, dealing  9  damage.

Gweyir attacks Grick, but misses.
Anton casts (Kellon Arcana: Unknown) on the swarm, dealing  10  lightning damage.

It is Kellon's turn.
 
Prehysterical
 "Ah! Ah! Bastard,"  Kellon curses as he feels a forest of centipede bites on his legs and tail. The lightning from Anton comes as welcome aid, but Kellon knows that he might be meal for the worms soon if he does not take a different approach.

Hearing the sounds of battle outside, Kellon tells Anton,  "Go help the others! I'll hold them back!"  Kellon pulls out a small silver mirror from his component pouch and points it at the swarm.  "Shellshield!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Sanctuary on himself. He also takes the Dodge action.
 
RandomWombat
The swarm surrounding Kellon is quelled by the holy magic as it forms a halo of light around him.

Crawling along the ceiling, Spider drops down into the room behind the Grick and raises its forelegs, hissing and moving in for another bite. But the serpentine monster swerves out of the way and grabs onto Spider with its tentacles. The razor sharp barbs shred into the arachnid's body as the Grick lunges in for a bite, savaging its prey as its coils hug the wall to avoid the flames.

  "Spider!"   Gweyir calls out. But as the beak is about to snap shut, Rose's spirit emerges and interposes itself, the bite caught and slowed in her ectoplasmic form.  "Get away!" 

The creature proves that its fight is far from over, continuing to swerve around Gweyir's sword blade.   "Spider, get up!"   she shouts, healing magic interlacing with her words and bringing the creature back to consciousness.

Anton looks between Kellon and the others and sends another pulse of energy into the centipedes, frying them completely.  "Now we can both help them!"  he declares, as he turns and runs their way.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Sanctuary, and uses the Dodge action.
Spider drops down behind the Grick to flank and bites at it again, but misses.

Grick lashes Spider, hitting for  13  damage and knocking Spider out, then bites - but hits Rose instead. Grick avoids fire damage this turn.
Centipede Swarm attempts to attack Kellon, but fails to overcome Sanctuary.

Gweyir attacks the Grick, but misses. She casts Healing Word, healing Spider for  3 .
Anton sends a pulse through his spell, hitting automatically for  12  lightning damage, frying the swarm.

It is Kellon's turn.
 

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Went to grab food, back now.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon rounds the corner and sees Spider badly wounded by the horror. He goes around Gweyir and thrusts the glowing spearhead at the grick.  "Get away from him, you bastard!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack roll:  (1d20+6)[ 24 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 12 ]  (Two-handed) Piercing
 
RandomWombat
Kellon's spear catches the creature off guard and impales it straight through its midsection. With a gargled sound it releases Spider and tries to pull away, but falters and falls down, corpse slowly being scorched by the fire until Gweyir dispels it and hurries to check on Spider.

She kneels down next to Spider, as Rose steps to the side and looks on in worry.  "The birdsnake is very sharp and not cute at all." 
  "Easy there, here,"   she reaches into Spider's silk pouch and takes the shimmering red bottle inside, helping Spider to drink Anton's elixir. The scratches along its back oozing with invertebrate blood begin to mend over.

 "Are you going to be okay?"  Rose asks, wringing her hands together.

 "Yup! All better now,"  Spider declares, standing more steadily.  "Thank you for helping me, friends! You're all the very best!" 
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Spider is healed for  6  by the healing elixir.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon wrenches the spear free with a sickening crunch, leaning against the wall. If he was physically capable of it, he would be sweating, but the panting reaction is just as natural. Recovering his composure, he steps into the room to clear up the hallway. Thank the gods Spider seems to be okay.

The tortle waves off Spider's thanks.  "Think nothing of it, boyo. I wouldn't wish that foul thing on my worst enemy."  Looking to Gweyir, Kellon asks,  "I don't suppose you got one of those healing potions from the bedroom upstairs, do you?" 
RandomWombat
Gweyir nods and pulls one out of her belt pouch, handing it off to Kellon. Anton comes up behind them, stepping over the fried Grick and cringing at the smell, holding a handkerchief over his nose.

 "Eugh. What is this thing?" 
  "A Grick. Predators from the deep underground, their hides are tough to pierce without magical weapons. Spider's venom looked like it did a number on that guy though,"   she smiles and pats Spider's head, causing it to titter happily again.

The room they're in has a few more passages breaking off from it. On one end is a small alcove containing a statue that's fallen apart beyond repair, and beneath it a narrow hole down into darkness, about the width of the Grick's body.
Prehysterical
Kellon accepts the potion with thanks and drinks it. He feels the stinging bite wounds and rips on his lower half heal with its magic.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Potion heals  (2d4+2)[ 7 ]  hit points
 


Wiping his beak, Kellon growls,  "And Moradin was more than happy to supply the rest."  He taps the butt of the spear against the floor. Perhaps the dwarf would rest a little easier knowing that the weapon was being used to put down such horrid monstrosities.

Cautiously, Kellon approaches the hole that the grick likely emerged from.  "Ugh, do you think that this house sits right on top of an entrance to the Underdark?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Perception check for both the hole (like smells) and the broken remains of the statue:  (1d20+3)[ 8 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The old statue appears to have once been a bust, perhaps of one of the Dursts or an ancestor. The Grick's burrowing has toppled the pedestal holding it, and its face crumbled to pieces when it struck the floor. Taking a look at the hole, it carries the rank smell of an animal's burrow, but there is no sign of how deep it goes.

  "It wouldn't surprise me,"   Gweyir answers, her voice jaded by the house's continual displays of new levels of depravity.
Prehysterical
Unable to determine the hole's depth, Kellon decides to move on. In his mind, he is firmly resolved that the children will not be buried in this terrible place, crypt or no crypt.

He moves down the passage that seems to diverge into crossroads.
RandomWombat
Rather than return to Spider, Rose falls in line behind the group, looking around carefully. The ominous chanting grows louder as Kellon steps down the path. He can hear it coming from his right, and more coming from his left. It echoes through the halls alongside growing growls and snarls. Gnarled, sickly blue hands stab up through patches of unfinished floor as undead monstrosities crawl up to greet him. One of them reaches for him with a claw, but he kicks it away before it can find purchase.

On hearing the sounds, Spider ascends once more onto the ceiling and crawls above the party's heads, shooting out a web at one of the undead and ensnaring it. Rose lingers towards the back, watching on helplessly, likely unaware of anything she could do as a ghost.

Gweyir reaches down and wastes no time erecting another bonfire below, aiming not to destroy Spider's webs.   "Ignitum!"   The ghoul it erupts beneath twists out of the way, up against the wall.

 "Suffosio!"  joining the chorus of cantrips being loosed, Anton tilts his head around the corner and uses his wand to bring the one Gweyir failed to burn to its knees.

The ghouls who cannot reach them hiss and howl, waiting their turn at the fresh meat.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Religion 
These are Ghouls, undead monsters that hunger for sapient flesh and have a paralyzing, feverish curse within their claws. Elves, however, are well known to be immune to the necrotic fever.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Ghoul B - 17
Ghoul C - 17
Spider - 15
Rose - 14
Ghoul D - 9
Gweyir - 7
Anton - 7
Kellon - 6
Ghoul A - 3
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Ghoul B claws at Kellon, but misses.

Spider crawls onto the ceiling, and webs Ghoul A, Restraining it.
Gweyir casts Create Bonfire, but Ghoul B it's on passes its save.
Anton casts 'Suffosio', knocking Ghoul B Prone and dealing  2  necrotic damage.

It is Kellon's turn.
 
Prehysterical
As Kellon registers that the chanting is growing louder, he finds himself swarmed by undead. At least these are foes that he knows how to fight. The others use their magic to give him some breathing room, letting Kellon ready a stab.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack rolls against Ghoul B:
 (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
 (1d20+6)[ 19 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 10 ]  Magic Piercing
 
RandomWombat
The bright point of the spear digs into the undead creature's rotten flesh, holding it down against the burning floor. The creature grabs onto the haft of the spear and pulls itself up, to stand and close the distance, lunging at Kellon with one claw. But the long, yellowed nails find only air. Its cohort, bound in webs, tears at the webbing and frees itself, regaining its stance.

Above Kellon, Spider crawls along the wall and makes a grab at the impaled ghoul's head with its fangs, but falls short - or rather, too high. Gweyir's sword proves more effective as she shifts her stance and stabs past Kellon's flank, striking the ghoul. With one foot she kicks it off of both of their weapons, and its innards begin to spill out onto the floor from the gut wound wrenched open. It shows no signs of pain or distraction, but its body starts to buckle and threaten to fall apart.

One more casting of  Suffosio  from Anton serves as the final nail to seal the ghoul's metaphorical coffin. His spell causes its body to buckle and collapse in on itself, lying in a pile of twitching flesh and bone trying ineffectually to actuate.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon stabs Ghoul B for  10  damage.

Ghoul A passes a Strength save to break free of its webs, but expends its action doing so.
Ghoul B stands up and attacks Kellon, but misses. It passes its save against fire damage.

Spider attacks Ghoul B, but misses.
Gweyir attacks Ghoul B, hitting for  7  damage.
Anton casts Suffosio on Ghoul B, dealing  4  necrotic damage and finishing it off.

It is Kellon's turn!
 
Prehysterical
Kellon turns to face the newly freed ghoul and rewards its persistence with a thrust.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack roll:  (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 12 ] 
 
RandomWombat
This time the ghoul is not helpless on the floor - it grabs the spear with one clawed hand and yanks it aside, drawing it off course, then lunges in with its other to grab at Kellon's neck. The claw proves unable to find its mark, as Spider's mandibles swing down from above and grab the ghoul under the chin. Its neck stretches unnaturally, flesh tearing and muscles exposed, but it holds together. Spider seems to care little for the taste of its rotten flesh and lets go.  "Ptooey! Yuckers!" 

From around the corner, the ghoul that was lurking behind the first to fall sees its opportunity. Heedless of the fire and with hungry, glowing yellow eyes, it lunges forwards, leaping over the flames to swipe at Spider on the ceiling. But Spider pulls up, hugging the stone, and the ghoul's claw falls short, landing and stumbling against Kellon's shell with a snarl.

Gweyir grabs it by the shoulder and shoves it away from Kellon, then drives her sword into its chest with the same motion as the last. Without Kellon's spear, the strike is not as dire, but nevertheless leaves a gaping hole in the ghoul.  "Suffosio!"  Anton recites once more, popping out from around the corner to send the ghoul down to its knees.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon attacks Ghoul A, but misses.

Ghoul A claws at Kellon, but also misses.

Spider bites Ghoul A, landing a Sneak Attack for  9  damage. Ghouls are immune to poison.

Ghoul D claws at Spider, but misses. It passes both saves against the bonfire this turn.

Gweyir attacks Ghoul D for  7  damage.
Anton casts Suffosio on Ghoul D, dealing  4  necrotic damage and Prone.

It is Kellon's turn!
 
Prehysterical
Not one to miss out on an opportunity, Kellon swivels and aims for the downed ghoul.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attacks against Ghoul D:
 (1d20+6)[ 21 ] 
 (1d20+6)[ 15 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 7 ] 
 
RandomWombat
His weapon strikes true, piercing the heart of the monster. But as it regains its footing, it shambles forwards again to meet him. Both ghouls rake their claws against Kellon's shell, but they do not draw blood, leaving only flakes of fetid skin clinging to the grooves and ridges of his natural armor. Spider tries to lunge down again, but something in the ghoul flesh must have turned the arachnid off, for it gags and backs off before it can get a proper grip.

The flames lick up the legs of the second ghoul down the side path, and its lower body gives out completely, falling backwards into the flames. With an agonized cry, it joins the other in slowly becoming a charred pile of flesh, the stench filling the hallway more every moment.

With that side clear, Gweyir shifts the bonfire under the still-occupied front. This time, as Anton tries to drive the burning ghoul down deeper into the fire, it resists his spell and presses forwards, lunging at Kellon one last time.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon stabs Ghoul D for  7  damage.

Ghoul A claws at Kellon, but misses.

Spider tries to attack Ghoul A, but misses.

Ghoul D attacks Kellon, but misses. It takes  7  fire damage and perishes.

Gweyir casts Create Bonfire on Ghoul A, dealing  7  fire damage.
Anton casts Suffosio n Ghoul A, but is resisted.

It is now Kellon's turn!
 
Prehysterical
Praise whatever god decided that tortles get their shells! Kellon is like a machine of death strokes, turning his spearpoint to the ghoul harassing him... and catching it on the corner of the wall in his haste.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack on Ghoul A:  (1d20+6)[ 8 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 10 ] 
 
RandomWombat
As his spear catches, the ghoul falls upon him, in perhaps a sign that overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer. This time it grabs onto his shell by the hole around his neck and reaches in, digging its nails into the softer flesh within. A sick glee fills the ghoul's face as it feels blood against its flesh, and it pulls the hand back out to lick its nails ravenously. Kellon feels a slight weakness in his limbs, and a heat under his flesh. But fortunately the fever does not take hold in its full potency.

Spider still seems warded away from the ghoul, but Gweyir steps around Kellon to get a better angle and lops its head off in a clean swing.   "Just one left! Are you alright?"  

Anton holds his wand at the ready, staring intensely down the hall at the last ghoul, which is eagerly licking its lips.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon misses Ghoul A.

Ghoul A scratches Kellon for  6  damage, but he passes his Con save against paralysis.

Spider misses Ghoul A.
Gweyir slashes Ghoul A for  10  damage, finishing it off.
Anton readies an action to cast Suffosio when the last ghoul enters the bonfire.

It is Kellon's turn.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon's beak clacks shut in pain as the ghoul sinks its nails into his flesh. He clutches at the wound as Gweyir moves past him and decapitates the loathsome wretch.

 "I'm not dying to a ghoul of all things!"  Kellon is hurt, but more angry than frightened. Glaring at the remaining ghoul, Kellon mockingly flashes his bloody hand at the creature.  "Well, come on then, coffincrasher! You hungry?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon readies an attack against the ghoul when it comes up.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 13 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 8 ] 

If Anton manages to knock the ghoul prone, here is an additional attack roll:  (1d20+6)[ 25 ] 
 
RandomWombat
All to eager to comply, the ghoul rushes headlong into the waiting ambush. At a word from Anton, the ghoul tumbles forward into the fire. As Kellon drives his spear into it, the ghoul wraps a clawed hand around his leg and rakes the sharp tips deep into his flesh. The weakness and sweltering heat reach a fever pitch and Kellon finds himself toppling to the ground, the world around him a blur.

He can hear people calling out. There is a thunk and the sound of metal impacting stone. Then Kellon is turned over by figures that waver and wobble back and forth. Slowly, his senses begin to return as the venom works out of his system.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Ghoul C rushes Kellon. It gets knocked Prone and dealt  3  necrotic damage by Anton, then stabbed for  8  by Kellon and burned for  1  from entering the fire.
Ghoul C scratches at Kellon, and manages to get a hit in despite Prone, for  7  damage. This time Kellon falls victim to paralysis from the ghoul's fever.

Spider bites the ghoul for an  8  damage Sneak Attack.
Gweyir finishes the ghoul off with a  7  damage attack.

As combat ends, Kellon passes the next save to recover from paralysis and finds himself Prone on his back.
 
Prehysterical
Bleary and weary, the fever of the ghoul's touch flares with temper as Kellon feels distinct embarrassment for his weakness. He really is the tortle stuck on his back.  "Grah, damn it! Help me up, please!"  Kellon would normally not ask for help in such an undignified state, but the lingering traces of ghoul fever make him feel weak in the arms. The ragged claw marks down his leg feel almost as bad as the previous centipede bites.
RandomWombat
To get him up, Anton and Gweyir have to each get under one arm and lift him together, but they manage to get Kellon back to his feet. Before he can even ask, Anton brings out one of the shimmering elixirs and holds it up for him.  "You look like you could use a pick-me-up." 
 "Those guys tasted really bad,"  Spider complains, as Rose moves up in the hallway and looks at the floor.

 "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I really didn't know what to do..."  she says, quietly.


But before they can recover their bearings fully, Kellon notices that one set of chanting has stopped. It still echoes up from the stairs, but the chanting from his left when he reached the intersection as since stopped. The quiet in that direction is broken by the sound of slow, sardonic clapping.  "Impressive. Most impressive. We haven't had such able guests in a long, long time."  A raspy female voice drones, followed by a dry chuckle.  "Why don't we get acquainted? Right this way." 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives a groaning sigh.  "Thanks, lad."  He drinks the mixture, but it feels like it makes him thirsty more than anything else. The pain dulls, but only a little.

Before Kellon can comfort Rose, but the sound of clapping and mockery slam his beak shut. He looks grimly to the others at the invitation. In a whisper, Kellon asks Gweyir,  "You got any of that healing druid magic, lass? I can heal meself, but I'd much rather save me prayers for a nasty rebuttal I've been given from Tempest." 
RandomWombat
  "Here. Let's sooth those wounds,"   Gweyir responds by way of answer, placing a hand on his back. The wounds in his neck, beneath his shell, begin to knit back together.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Kellon receives another  6  healing.
 
Prehysterical
The warmth and light from the elf soothe and knit Kellon's wounds. He closes his eyes in appreciation of nature's blessing following them into this awful place.  "Thank you. Well... whoever they are, they know we're here. Might as well get this over with, aye?"  Kellon leads the group down the left branch, the light of the spear guiding their steps.
RandomWombat
Led by Kellon, they emerge into the room, the Spear of Light shining on and showing the way. The room ahead stinks like an untended mortuary.

This room is festooned with moldy skeletons that hang from rusty shackles against the walls. A wide alcove in the south wall contains a painted wooden statue carved in the likeness of a gaunt, pale-faced man wearing a voluminous black cloak, his pale left hand resting on the head of a wolf that stands next to him. In his right hand, he holds a smoky-gray crystal orb.

Before the statue stands a ghoulish woman with old, stitched holes across her sickly green flesh, and a bloodstained smile. Even in her current state, Kellon recognizes her from all the portraits above. Elisabeth Durst. She is clad in a fancy dress that looks much newer and cleaner than she does, apart from the bloodstains where her old wounds have soiled it.

Next to her is the man of the house himself, Gustav Durst, his expression as grave and sour as his portraits ever portrayed. Greying hair frozen in a permanent state of premature balding, his face is riddled with flaps of missing skin, holes peering into the gums and the interior of his mouth, and slick grave grease staining patches of the remaining flesh. He is clad in a red robe and wears a medallion with a skull set upon it.

There is another undead here, though he looks different from the others - for one, he looks happy to so the new arrivals. Not in a 'pleased to eat you' sort of way, but in a way one would view the first ray of sunshine after a week of overcast weather.  "Aha! Quickly, somebody free me!"  he motions with his head towards the shackles that bind him to the wall alongside the skeletons. The man is clad in a warm hooded jacket, but his face is deathly blue and the stink from him suggests he is every bit as undead as the rest of those here.

 "Sssht,"  Elisabeth shushes the man with a shrill noise and a zipping motion across her lips. Then she turns to Kellon and company, bloody smile again painting her face - and then turning to shock as Rose steps forward.

 "Mother?"  Beside her, Thorn emerges from Spider, looking up at the dead man in red with a mixture of surprise, hope, and fear.  "Papa?" 
 "... Kids,"  Gustav is struck nearly speechless as he stares at them, his eyes welling with tears of dark, dead, coagulated blood.

 "I feared that Lord Strahd had taken you... as a price for his immortal gift,"  Elisabeth laughs wildly, in her dry and weathered voice, spinning around on the tip of her foot.  "But here you are! Eternal and ageless as we! Oh praise Strahd!" 

Ghostly chanting throughout the room echoes her sentiment, in many voices:  "Praise Strahd!" 
 "What happened to you? What is this place?"  Rose demands, a mixture of relief and anger in her resonant, spectral voice.

 "This is our temple, sweet pea,"  Elisabeth holds out her arms before the wooden statue, proudly.  "And it seems it is finally time for you to join us."  Behind her, out of her field of view, Gustav looks at his long-dead wife uncertainly, then back at his ghostly children. His clawed, ghoulish fists clench at his side.
Prehysterical
The appearance of the Durst couple makes the ghouls from earlier look beautiful in comparison. This place does not merely reek of death; it is positively  soaked  in it.

Kellon moves forward to interpose himself between Rose and Elizabeth.  "This is no temple,"  he rumbles, his voice thick with revulsion and contempt.  "This is a  pit !"  The last word is spat out like a curse.  "You raise altars and make sacrifices to a devil and you dare call him a  god ?"  Kellon points at the wooden statue, the symbol of Moradin clearly visible on the shaft.

Brining the spear back to a standing position, Kellon visibly trembles with suppressed rage like a crackling stormfront.  "You left your children to  die  in the attic! Alone, with no food or water, wondering if anyone would ever come for them..."  The wood in the spear creaks as Kellon's claws tighten their grip as his eyes glance between Elizabeth and Gustav.  "So, tell me, who murdered the good nursemaid Georgia? The jealous wife, or the man who sold his soul to a so-called 'god' that would rather see him suffer? Considering the number of stab wounds, I'm leaning more toward Madam Durst..." 
RandomWombat
Approaching Elisabeth almost proves to be an embarrassing mistake - the stench surrounding her is so vile and defiled that Kellon nearly has to stop his impassioned speech to keep himself from retching.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Kellon passes his save against Stench, and is immune to it for 24 hours.

Kellon Religion: These two are no mere ghouls, but ghasts, a more powerful variant able to resist holy powers that would turn lesser undead - and grant that resistance to their lesser servants. They carry a powerful stench, not just of the grave, the stench of Evil and Death made manifest.
 

 "How dare you-"  Elisabeth begins to rebuke him, raising an arm up to bat his spear away when he points it irreverently towards her lord.

 "Elisabeth,"  she is interrupted by Gustav, his voice tired and old and full of regret, as he takes hold of her arm before she can swing it back at Kellon. She looks back at his incredulously.

 "What are you doing, Gustav? This creature disrespects our Dread Lord!" 
 "I drove her head into the table,"  Gustav speaks, looking at Elisabeth. Whether he is speaking to her or to Kellon in his confession, it is unclear.  "She got up... she- she begged me to stop. Kept calling the name of that dead baby. I couldn't take it- I threw her into the wall, and she fell through." 
 "Gustav-" 
 "And then, then I couldn't finish it. She was lying there, helpless. The woman I... I could not look at her face. Then you came. Slid open that door and drove the knives into her back. Like she was meat, Elisabeth." 
 "So what?!"  the woman cries out, wrenching her arm from his grip.  "The things we did down here, to all those strangers. Don't pretend you're better than me. Just because you- you fell for some harlot!" 
 "I am not better than you, Elisabeth. But those children,"  Gustav points to Thorn, clutching his ghostly doll and held close to his sister's side as she looks up at them with tearful eyes.  "Our sins are not their sins Elisabeth. They are not a part of this." 

Elisabeth Durst falls silent, staring with her mouth a tight line at her husband's rotten face. She reaches up and plucks the misty orb from the statue of Strahd, and points at Kellon's party.  "Faithful. Kill them all - but leave the children unharmed. They will join us in time."  The mists within the orb swirl and dark figures begin to rise throughout the room. Black as darkest night, with the outlines of skulls barely visible where faces would linger behind black cloth, if they were merely veiled. But no, they are the veil. The darkness itself.  And as their voices whisper in dark tongues , Gustav's dead eyes ignite with new fire.

 "No. I  will not  give them unto evil! Not this day, nor any day to come!"  Gustav roars in defiance, winding up a splayed open claw.

As the claw slashes across her shocked face, it is not blood that sprays out, but writhing centipedes. More begin to crawl out of her many open wounds and stitched gashes, pouring out of her like a waterfall. The blue man shakes his chains again and petitions in a recognizable Barovian accent to the party,  "May I suggest again to let me out?" 
 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Gustav Durst - 21
Kellon - 19
Shadow B - 19
Anton - 16
Spider - 15
Rose Durst - 14
Elisabeth Durst and Centipedes - 13
Shadow C - 11
Friendly Zombie? - 8
Gweyir - 6
Thorn Durst - 5
Shadow A &amp; D - 5
Shadow E - 4
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Gustav Durst slashes Elisabeth Durst for  15  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 
Prehysterical
Gods, was it too late to fetch the tiger skin from upstairs as an air freshener?! The rotten family family reunion boils over as the parents lash out with each other and the room fills with shadows and centipedes. All Kellon wants to do is fill this room with lightning and scorch everything down to the stone, but the others are right behind him. Even if Kellon was in any position to help the bound man (ghoul?), it was clear that Elizabeth had to be stopped immediately or this place would be a tomb for them all.

Grasping his holy symbol, Kellon takes advantage of Elizabeth's surprise to deliver divine retribution her way.  "Heartseeker!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Guiding Bolt at Elizabeth
 (1d20+5)[ 18 ] 
 (4d6)[ 14 ]  radiant damage
The next attack roll on her gains Advantage.
 
RandomWombat
The bolt of light arcs into her back, and Elisabeth is surrounded by a halo of light as her undead flesh is scorched. More centipedes emerge, but these ones seem lesser, as if already scorched by the radiance.  "My Lord! Give me strength to purge this traitor!"  She whirls around, pointing her two arms at Kellon and Gustav. Lengths of centipedes joined together like cords lash out, crawling onto them, stinging and biting. Kellon is able to avoid the worst of the wave of insects, thankfully, but the swarms covering the floor begin to coalesce upon him. Worse, he feels dark hands upon his shoulders, and shadows close in from all sides of his vision. Insidious whispers in his mind leave him feeling weakened.

One of the shadow cultists slides forwards and grabs Gweyir. The color begins to fade from her skin and her knees nearly buckle. Another begins to move towards her, but the zombie chained to the wall kicks at it with his feet,  "Hey, cult weirdo! Pick on someone your own age, ay? Like finely aged cheese - haha!"  His taunting draws the shadow's attention and it descends upon him, beginning to drain his energy instead. The last of the cultists at that end of the room grabs at Gustav, but he brushes it off angrily.

  "Kellon, hold it together! You have to repel them, there are too many at once!"   Gweyir shouts, magic lacing her words restoring some of Kellon's drained vitality, if not his strength.

 "Striga Fulmen!"  Anton exclaims, sending crackling electricity through one of the dark figures. It slowly turns towards him, unfazed, and his face droops into regret. Spider crawls around behind it and lunges up, biting into its back. The distraction is enough for it to forget about its attack on Anton halfway through, its slow mind causing it to turn towards Spider instead.

Rose looks down at her spectral hands, and then at the swarms of creepy crawlies her mother is leaking.  "Thorn, grab the bugs! As many as you can get!"  she orders her brother, getting down on her hands and knees and scooping them up. Though her ghostly hands fail to grab any, they seem to chill and wither the insects as they pass through.

 "I help!"  Thorn calls out as he grabs some of the centipedes crawling all over Kellon and 'crushes' them in his little ghostly hands. His touch is cold, but thankfully does not wither Kellon alongside the insects.

Gustav raises a claw to slash at Elisabeth again, this time catching her fully in the side of her head and tearing it off, sending it scattering across the room - still screaming in rage until it slams into the wall. Her body falls to the ground, limp.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Guiding Bolt on Elisabeth Durst, dealing  14  radiant damage and marking her for attack. Two more centipede swarms spawn, already at half strength.

Shadow B uses Strength Drain in Gweyir, dealing  6  necrotic damage and  4  Strength damage.

Anton casts Striga Fulmen on Shadow A, dealing  5  lightning damage.
Spider flanks Shadow A and attacks, for a  6  damage Sneak Attack.
Rose uses Withering Touch on Centipede Swarm A, dealing  12  necrotic damage.

Elisabeth uses Swarm Lash on Kellon and Gustav. Kellon is fine, but Gustav takes  3  damage.
Swarm A attacks Kellon, but misses.
Swarm B attacks Gustav, dealing  5  damage.
Swarm C attacks Kellon, but misses.
Swarm D attacks Gustav, but misses.
Shadow C uses Strength Drain on Kellon, hitting for  10  necrotic damage and  3  Strength damage.

Friendly Zombie kicks at Shadow E, hitting for  1  damage.
Gweyir casts Healing Word to heal Kellon for  5 , then attacks Shadow B for  2  damage.
Thorn uses Withering Touch on Swarm A, dealing  15  necrotic damage and clearing it away.

Shadow A attacks Anton, but misses.
Shadow D attacks Gustav, but misses.
Shadow E uses Strength Drain on Friendly Zombie, dealing  9  damage and  3  Strength damage.

Gustav attacks Elisabeth, but  misses  hits, dealing  10  damage and bringing her down.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Juuust gonna repost this for myself, since it's a bigger one
Gustav Durst - 21
Kellon - 19
Shadow B - 19
Anton - 16
Spider - 15
Rose Durst - 14
Elisabeth Durst and Centipedes - 13
Shadow C - 11
Friendly Zombie? - 8
Gweyir - 6
Thorn Durst - 5
Shadow A &amp; D - 5
Shadow E - 4
 
Prehysterical
The so-called temple is a madhouse of crawling vermin, shouts, and flitting shadows. Kellon sees Elizabeth's head wrenched off and fights through the wave of weakness running through his body. Gweyir is right... There are too many. It is time to risk it... He could contain it no more.

Kellon takes a few wobbly steps forward, but sets his feet firmly as he glares at the shadows. His eyes glow with blue energy as he spreads his arms wide. When he speaks, it is as if the Storm itself manifested underground.  "THUNDERSTRUCK!"  His hands clap together in a cacophony of noise.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Thunderwave with himself in the top-right corner.
It should have Shadows B, D, and E within its effect. I can't tell if Centipede Swarm D would also be within the blast radius.
Kellon is going to use his daily Channel Divinity to invoke Destructive Wrath. The spell deals max damage ( 16 ) and knocks the Shadows away. If they pass a Con save, they only take 8 damage and aren't pushed. Use thunder or lightning, whichever deals more damage.
 
RandomWombat
The thunderous boom briefly deafens the room, and the ominous chanting, as the three shadows are scattered against the wall. The one attacking Gweyir wobbles, but retains its form as it peels off of the wall. It weakly lurches to the side, reaching out for her. This time she is wary, however, and ducks aside out of the way.

As if sympathetically empowered by Kellon's invoking of the Storm, Anton's spell pulses with great force and scatters the shadow into wisps of smoke. Spider turns around and instead bites at the other, though its fangs are far less mighty against these spectral foes. When the shadow turns to repay in kind, Spider backs off and skitters to and fro, evading its slow and ponderous grasp.

Rose grabs at the rest of the centipedes on the ground, trying not to look at her mother's body on the floor. The swarm withers and dies, until the last few scatter hopelessly. Many of them remain furiously focused on Gustav, who bats them away as they tear at his rotting flesh and slough it off onto the floor.  "Papa!"  Thorn runs over to him, doing his best to pick off the overflowing little vermin.

 "Thank you, my boy." 
 "Well, this has been comfy, but now that crazy lady is dead I think I'm going to try myself..."  the friendly zombie looks up at the rusty pin holding his shackles to the wall and winds up, then tugs against it with all his might. Even drained by the shadows, he busts free of the wall and reaches down to pick up a femur from one of his fellow dungeon decorations in his still-shackled hands.  "Alright, who wants a piece of Sokol Twiceborn? I still have a few left!"  His bravado soon fades along with his strength as the shadow from before grabs onto him and continues draining him.

Gweyir welcomes him to the team by driving a sword through the shadow trapped between them and dispelling it into smoke.   "The tide turns! Keep fighting!"  
 "Yes, about that - maybe not so many pieces as I thought. Hand please!" 

The last shadow slides across the floor at Kellon, but he repels it with his shining spear as it gets too close, and it recoils from the light. Gustav circles it and slashes it across the back from the other side.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
As Kellon moves, Shadow C takes an attack of opportunity, but misses.
Kellon casts a maximized Thunderwave, dealing  16  damage to Shadows B, D and E. The shadows resist the damage and take  8 , but none of them pass their save to halve it again.

Shadow B attacks Gweyir, but misses.

Anton pulses his spell, dealing  5  unavoidable lightning damage to Shadow A and destroying it.
Spider bites Shadow C, dealing  3  damage with a Sneak Attack.
Rose uses Withering Touch on Swarm C, dealing  11  necrotic damage and destroying it.

Swarm C and D attack Gustav, dealing  10  damage total.
Shadow C attacks Spider, but misses.

Friendly Zombie uses Athletics to break free of his Restrained condition, and picks up an improvised club.
Gweyir attacks Shadow B, critically hitting for  5  damage and finishing it off.
Thorn uses Withering Touch on Swarm D, dealing  18  necrotic damage and destroying it.

Shadow D attacks Kellon, but misses.
Shadow E attacks Sokol, dealing  8  necrotic damage and  1  Strength damage.

Gustav flanks and slashes Shadow D for  3  damage.

It is now Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Gustav Durst - 21
Kellon - 19
Shadow B - 19
Anton - 16
Spider - 15
Rose Durst - 14
Elisabeth Durst and Centipedes - 13
Shadow C - 11
Sokol - 8
Gweyir - 6
Thorn Durst - 5
Shadow A &amp; D - 5
Shadow E - 4
 
Prehysterical
Indeed, the tide turns, but best not let it sweep their feet out from under them. Kellon shoves the glowing head of the spear into the shadow's face.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attacks on Shadow D
 (1d20+4)[ 15 ] 
 (1d20+4)[ 17 ] 

Damage:  (1d8+2)[ 3 ]  Magical Pierce
 
RandomWombat
The spear makes contact, sinking slowly into the shadow's form. Though the damage is minimal, its shape begins to flicker and waver, struggling to hold together. There is a thunk as a bolt flies past it and clatters into the walls. Anton makes a small disappointed noise as he starts reloading the crossbow he's drawn, his lamp now on the floor beside him.

Kellon leans back, avoiding a deathly touch from the shadow facing him, but he soon finds centipedes crawling up onto him again, biting and crawling into his shell. As he struggles to fight them off, he feels a chill run through him as Thorn passes into and out of his body, using his full form to kill of almost all of the swarming insects.

From behind, Gustav sticks both of his clawed hands deep into the shadow, and pulls them apart, ripping the monster in half.

Spider rears up again, biting at the shadow menacing it, but its cautious attacks don't quite reach the target. Rose tries to grab onto the shadow, but her ghostly touch seems not to affect it at all, so instead she tries to grab it from behind and hold it in place. Despite her smaller size, she manages to hold its 'arms' back, as it struggles and wriggles to get free, shaking her off.

The zombie, 'Sokol', wields the femur with desperate strength as he pounds it into the shadow's 'head'. The amorphous skull ripples and bounces like gelatin. Gweyir comes up beside him and takes a swing at it, but it tilts at an unnatural angle out of the way of her blade. It lurches forwards 'biting' Sokol with its shadowy jaws. The zombie falters and nearly collapses, but manages to get a hold of the misty material and shove the shadow back.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes Shadow D for  3  damage.
Anton draws his light crossbow and shoots at Shadow D, but misses.
Spider attacks Shadow C, but misses.
Rose grapples Shadow C.

Swarm B attacks Kellon, dealing  6  damage.
Shadow C attempts to break the grapple, and succeeds.

Sokol swings at Shadow E, hitting for  2  damage. He uses Action Surge to swing again, hitting for  1  damage. Then he uses Second Wind to recover...  3  hit points.
Gweyir attacks Shadow E, but misses.
Thorn uses Withering Touch on Swarm B, dealing  20  necrotic damage.

Shadow D attacks Kellon, but misses.
Shadow E uses Strength Drain on Sokol, hitting for  8  necrotic damage and  3  Strength damage. Sokol passes an Undead Fortitude save to remain at 1 hit point instead of being destroyed.

Gustav slashes Shadow D, dealing  5  damage and destroying it.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Gustav Durst - 21
Kellon - 19
Anton - 16
Spider - 15
Rose Durst - 14
Centipedes - 13
Shadow C - 11
Sokol - 8
Gweyir - 6
Thorn Durst - 5
Shadow D - 5
Shadow E - 4
 
Prehysterical
Though Kellon is on the verge of collapsing himself, he realizes that the strange talking dead man will soon be truly dead if he does not help. He rushes forward and thrusts at the shadow.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack on Shadow E
 (1d20+4)[ 20 ] 
 (1d8+2)[ 10 ]  Magic Pierce
 
RandomWombat
This time, Kellon puts more directional force into the thrust, and the spear pierces clean through the Shadow, clanging against the wall as the monster fades into grey smoke. A call of  "Suffosio!"  is followed by the crunching and creaking sounds of the last of the centipedes curling up to die.

As the last shadow is pulling away from Rose's grip, Spider jumps on top of it and delivers a powerful bite, tearing bits and pieces of it out. Rose grabs onto it from behind, holding it in place as Spider rips and tears. In spite of its attempts to grab onto Spider and deliver one last parting attack, Rose holds it fast.

 "Many thanks, turtle man! Let us... let us finish this!"  Sokol spins on his heel and walks with stiff steps towards the last shadow, his limbs drooping weakly. He delivers a small, weak blow with his club, stumbling forwards. He even grabs a hold of it and tries to pull it apart with his hands and teeth, but he's just too weakened by their draining magic. Sword in both hands. Gweyir walks over and delivers the final blow, plunging it through the shadow's 'skull'.

The zombie man falls backwards and lays on the floor.  "Guh. I haven't felt this terrible since I was alive." 

With the last of the monsters banished, Thorn and Rose run up to Gustav.  "Why were all the bugs in mama?"   "What happened down here?" 

Gustav looks down at them, guilt and sorrow in his eyes.  "I hoped that you would never see what happened down here."  He raises a clawed hand, trying to brush some hair from Rose's face, but it only flickers in wisps until she reaches up to brush it away herself.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes Shadow E for  10  damage, destroying it.
Anton picks up his wand and casts Suffosio, dealing  4  necrotic damage and finishing off Swarm B.
Spider bites Shadow C for  8  damage.
Rose grapples Shadow C.

Shadow C attempts to attack Spider, but misses.

Sokol strikes Shadow C for  1  damage, and bites it for  1  damage.
Gweyir strikes Shadow C for  4  damage, finishing it off.

Combat has ended.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon leans on the spear, feeling more tired than he ever has in his life. His claws shake as he quaffs his emergency potion, little red droplets dripping over the side of his beak.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Potions heals  (2d4+2)[ 5 ]  damage
 


He watches as the children reunite with their father. This man has created great evil, but he had proven that his love for his children carried even beyond the grave. Kellon puts strength into his voice as he tells the ghast,  "Gustav... The children cannot stay here. There will be no peace for them in this house. It is unhallowed ground." 
RandomWombat
 "I know,"  the man looks up at the stone ceiling, a bleak grey just like the sky outside.  "But this place, this house... it will not allow us to leave. Curses in Barovia hold power, outsider. Even for those who have none."  He turns and faces Kellon, face grave.  "All of the evil, every sin and torment that unfolded here, the misplaced faith of our followers. It has transformed this place." 

While they speak, Gweyir examines part of the wall near Spider, which is a soft clay rather than stone. She pulls part of the clay away, revealing a door underneath.   "Where does this go?"  
 "A hidden escape tunnel, into the den,"  the old ghoul answers.  "You all can leave... but no Durst can leave this place." 
 "You said that the house will not  allow  you to leave?"  Anton asks, crossbow put away and lamp back in hand as he walks over.  "It is some form of genius loci, a place with a mind?" 
 "I believe so." 
 "Then... what do we do?"  Rose asks her father, looking up at him.

 "Its thirst for blood must be slaked with sacrifice, in the pits below this temple. Then, it may allow you both to leave."  Turning to Kellon again, Gustav fixes him with a look.  "I would much prefer to be free of this place... to perhaps be reborn as a better man in the next life. But if anyone should pay the price for this, it is I." 
 "Papa, no! We just got you back!"  small ghost hands tug at his robe, barely moving it.
Prehysterical
Kellon looks around the chamber, seeing the entire place in a new light. The house itself as an adversary...

He scratches at the stinging welts from the centipede bites on his leg as Gustav offers himself up as the sacrificial lamb.  "Don't be so eager to walk the plank, sailor... There might be another way."  His head turns toward Gweyir as he asks,  "Any of that healing magic left? I'm completely spent." 
RandomWombat
Though his face looks uncertain, Gustav nods slowly, not commenting on the chance of an escape.

  "Barely,"   Gweyir answers.   "I don't think we're in any condition to fight a house like this. We need a safe place to rest."  
 "That, I can offer,"  Gustav intercedes, walking down the small corridor to the side of the temple chamber.  "The house's power is not as strong outside of the above, and the pit below. The bedchambers used by the cult we gathered should still be serviceable. And I have some things to offer..." 
 "Ng,"  the zombified man pulls himself off of the floor, limbs creaking and cracking like those of an old man.  "I do not suppose you mind, if old Sokol tags along, ay?" 

Gweyir reaches down and helps him up, though her nose wrinkles a bit at the smell of him.   "Who... are you, exactly?"  
 "He is one of our many victims..."  reaching out with a hand, Gustav places it against the door ahead of him. The door twists and morphs, forming many bloodshot yellow eyes and a twisted mouth.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Arcana 
The door is a Mimic, monstrosities that can take the form of mundane objects and lie in wait for their prey.
 

 "Pass Word"  the door croaks.

 "Wind in the wealds." 
 "Welcome Home"  the door recites again, opening into a small room. A chandelier is suspended above a table in the middle of the room. Two high-backed chairs flank the table, which has an empty clay jug and two clay flagons atop it. Iron candlesticks stand in two corners, their candles long since melted away.

Gustav walks into the room and takes a seat at the table, Thorn and Rose following behind him like little ducklings that finally found their parent.
Prehysterical
Unsure of how he feels about Gustav's "offer", Kellon nonetheless follows him into sanctuary. They really don't have much of a choice. As he steps through the doorway, Kellon fights his imagination; the image of teeth crunching down and trapping him is too strong...

Kellon elects to leave the seat open for someone else, perhaps like the this-shy-of-falling-apart zombie.  "How long has this curse kept you?" 
RandomWombat
Sokol seems to simply lean back against the wall and slide down to the floor, and Gweyir simply leans on the back of the chair, still somewhat wary.

 "It is difficult to say. I seldom see the light of day, such as it is. It must be years now,"  the ghoul leans back in his chair, eyes closed. Though it seems strange to think that undead could tire, he looks every bit like a man who has not slept in all those years.  "We lured in some adventurers, playthings that Strahd had drawn into his domain... much like you, I imagine. In answer he slaughtered us all, for we had taken away his fun. But when the curse woke us, Elisabeth and her followers believed it a blessing. Undead immortality, as that of Strahd himself." 
 "I'm a bit confused, if you don't mind answering another question,"  Anton interrupts.  "The little ones refer to Strahd as a devil, but you say he is undead?" 
 "Strahd is a vampire, and more. He is Darklord of all Barovia, and the Mists move to his whim. The towsfolk, they call him a devil because to them he is one. Poisoned deals, twisted words and terrible pacts. These are how he entertains himself." 

Anton nods, taking a seat in the other chair and crossing his legs thoughtfully as he brings down his journal to mark some things down.

The question answered, Gustav returns to his previous topic.  "This way,"  he motions aside, to the hallway the ghouls had attacked in.  "In a hallway near the stairs is a pit of spikes covered loosely with boards. It is simple enough to go around if you know that it is there. Go further on this floor, and you will find the cult's bedchambers. Any of their things are yours' if you wish."  Then he motions behind himself, down a shorter hall into what Kellon can see is a bedroom with a bed for two.  "And in... our bedchamber, Elisabeth and I, we kept some trophies from past visitors. They are yours' as well. Perhaps something here will help you. I will be here... when you are ready to face whatever comes next." 
Prehysterical
How powerful was this vampire? He really did seem to have the reach of an archdevil...

Before Kellon goes to search the bedchambers for items, Kellon asks Gustav,  "Why does Strahd bring adventurers to Barovia? We are from different planes and Anton here received a personal invitation. Why us?" 
RandomWombat
 "That, I do not know,"  is all that Gustav can say.  "He chastised us for ruining his entertainment. You may just be here to shake up the dreary monotony that is Barovia." 

Gweyir's frown deepens, and she clutches the back of Anton's chair.   "So we're just toys, then."  
Prehysterical
The thought that some being specifically picked them out like a fish at market is... disquieting.

 "Right now, it's all we can do to break the curse on this house. See what you can find."  Kellon goes on to inspect the Durst bedchambers.
RandomWombat
Gweyir follows him, while Anton finishes with his journal and closes it. He helps Sokol up and they begin making their way to the cult's quarters, alongside Spider following behind. Rose and Thorn linger with their father.

Within the Dursts' bedchamber is a wooden bed with a rotten feather mattress. A few iron candlesticks sit on the nightstand, and the wardrobe contains a few robes and dresses. A crate in the corner contains a pile of unlit torches, which still seem to be good enough to use.

A chest at the foot of the bed contains a folded cloak with a slight silvery sheen to it, an unlocked wooden coffer containing four healing potions, a chain shirt, a mess kit with light metal kitchenware and utensils, a flask of alchemist's fire, a bullseye lantern, a set of lockpicks and other thieves' tools, and a spellbook with a yellowed leather cover.

  "What do you think of all this?"   Gweyir asks, as they sort through the contents.
Prehysterical
It seems to be a real mixed bag.  "Definitely taking the alchemist's fire and healing potions. The lockpicks might make for a good gift for Spider. We should take the spellbook and cloak to Anton for him to take a look at it." 
RandomWombat
  "Oh, I meant the situation,"   Gweyir corrects herself with a short laugh.   "But yes, most of this should be useful. Druids cannot wear metal armor, but maybe that dead guy could use the chain."   She helps collect the assortment to bring back to the others and stands up.

  "I don't know how the wolf pirates fit into things yet, but they must have something to do with Strahd. They lured us here just like 'Arrigal' did to Anton, right?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon stops for a moment. He never considered the possibility that the pirates may somehow have been involved with Strahd. Eventually shaking his head, Kellon moves on to the cult bedchambers.  "It's possible, but who really knows? We know so little about this place. Even the people who actually live here are in the dark. If my powers were greater, I could ask the gods for answers, but right now, all we can really do is survive... and do what little good we can." 

Once they enter the chamber, Kellon proclaims,  "Anton, bring those magic rectangles of yours out here! I got a spellbook to tempt ye! Spider, I have a present for you, too!" 
RandomWombat
The large chamber between the cultists' quarters is dotted by wooden support beams holding the place together, and in the center is a well whose water has long since turned stagnant and rotten, tainted like the rest of this place.

Anton gets up from on one of the ratty old beds and comes out with an intrigued look, and Spider crawls out from a little secluded corner it had found in one of the other rooms.  "A present? For me? Thank you, thank you!" 

Reaching out, Anton accepts the spellbook and takes a look at it.  "Hmhm, I see."  He flips it open and looks through a few of the pages.  "A little more advanced than my own. I will have to decrypt their spell codes and see what they've researched."  He motions to a pile he's made next to the well,  "I've assembled everything of value we found in the rooms, and tossed away a few... unsavory things." 
 
 Spoiler: Cult Quarters Loot 
-11 gold and 60 silver pieces
-Three moss agates in a folded piece of black cloth
-A black leather eyepatch with a cornelian sewn into it
-An ivory hairbrush with silver inlays
 


Gweyir drops the chain shirt on the ground next to Sokol, who is sitting against the wall again with an arm hung over one knee. The man appears to have acquired a tarnished silver shortsword from among the rooms, as well.   "You alive down there?"  
 "No,"  the undead man answers, his sharp yellowed teeth bared in a rictus grin.

  "Well, here's some armor we found. Might help you stay whole, if not alive. Have you been down here a long time?"  

Sokol picks up the chain shirt and holds it up in front of him weakly, taking a look.  "Since before the mister and missus were undead monsters - and I suppose before I was as well, ahaha! Ah, but I have lost count. There is no way to tell one day from another down here." 
Prehysterical
Kellon give the thieves' tools to Spider.  "No more bones for you, little mister! Now, you've got some  real  lockpicks!" 

He hands Anton the cloak and asks,  "Could you do your book learnin' with this and some of those things over there? 'Tis plain that this cloak has some sort of enchantment on it." 

Looking to Solok, Kellon asks,  "You weren't one of the cult, so how did you end up here?" 
RandomWombat
 "Ooh, it's so shiny!"  Spider marvels at the set of 'brand new' thieves' tools and drags it aside to compare with the bone ones and take a look at what's what.

Accepting the cloak, Anton nods.  "I took a look at the personal effects there, nothing magical. Just a few tradable baubles."  Holding the cloak draped across his hands, he peers at its gleam.  "This certainly warrants a look, however. I shall inform you what you find."  With a nod, he shuffles off back to the room he'd chosen, taking a seat on the bed and laying the cloak out on the nightstand.

 "The usual way, I imagine. The Dursts were an important family here, before everyone caught on that folks started to disappear around them,"  Sokol explains, laying the chain shirt beside his spot and throwing his arms wide and gesturing as he talks.  "I was a guard for the farmers, out across the bridge. When the Dursts invited me over for dinner, I thought I was getting a raise! Surprise to me, after the night of drinking and dancing, they bring me downstairs. And then I thought I was getting an orgy! Ahaha! Not an orgy, no. Much less fun, will spare you the details." 
Prehysterical
A more childish part of Kellon is put out that the eyepatch isn't magical... It looks quite nice with the cornelian set into it. He wonders sort of person it originally belonged to... Surely they were not the first seadogs to be taken into this world.

This Sokol fellow was taking his undeath rather well... Kellon wonders how long he has been down here and how he has not gone mad from it.  "Is there anything that we can do for you? Those shadows practically keelhauled you." 
RandomWombat
Sokol holds a hand in front of his face. The blue flesh is still an even more sickly grey.  "Simply wait for it to go away. Whatever curse made me like this, I heal eventually."  He rests his arm once more over his knee.

  "I have a touch of druidic magic from the Feywild that can restore things to an unharmed state. It doesn't involve any positive energy, so it should work on undead,"   Gweyir mentions.   "If need be. It might not be a bad idea to do what I can with it while we rest, even if it's not much."   She focuses, and a shimmering glow surrounds Kellon and Sokol, restoring some of the necrotic drain that their bodies have suffered.   "That's all I can do. But just in case this house decides to throw something at us."  
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Gweyir uses Balm of the Summer Court, healing Kellon for for  1  and Sokol for  2 . They both gain 1 temporary hp as well, though that will fade with their rest.
 
Prehysterical
A sudden thought occurs to Kellon and he slaps his forehead.  "Damn! I just remembered that I left our rations up in the master bedroom!"  Gustav had warned them that the house might be dangerous at this point, but Kellon thinks he knows a way around that.

 "Spider, me lad, would you be willing to do us a favor? I left seven packages of rations on a table in the master bedroom on the third floor, the room where we first met. Would you be a good shipmate and get them for us? We need to keep our strength up and give our bodies fuel to heal." 
RandomWombat
 "Okay! I'll be back super fast!"  Spider chirps confidently, scuttling away into the darkness without hesitation. As it goes, Gweyir takes the alchemy jug from Anton's room and a wooden cup, using some of its fresh water contents to clean out the cup of dust and cobwebs first, then using it to take a drink.

  "You said before there might be another way besides appeasing the house with a sacrifice,"   the elf says, going at first to sit upon the edge of the well, then rethinking the wisdom of that and instead leaning on one of the least worn down wooden supports.   "Any ideas in mind?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon softly taps the shaft of the spear against his beak in thought.  "A few... None of them foolproof. It might be possible for me to consecrate the shrine and expunge the place of this evil, but it might well be beyond my power to do so. Even if it is possible, we would have to round up every scrap of silver in this house and find a way to grind it into powder. The dust is essential to the ceremony.

Another thought that occurred to me is the manner of the sacrifice. If the house demands a life or soul, our keel is shot. But, if a  blood  sacrifice is all that is required, we all could make a blood offering. Between three living bodies and our healing magic, we could easily donate enough blood to be equivalent to one sacrifice." 

He sighs wearily.  "More than anything, I told him that so that the mad fool wouldn't just go straight down the hole. The man has a deathwish. It is good that he wants to repent and save his children, but I would prefer that they enter the afterlife together. The family has been broken enough as it is. They deserve some measure of peace." 
RandomWombat
  "Aye, I think it would take a lot to consecrate unhallowed ground such as this,"   looking up towards the stony ceiling, Gweyir hums uncertainly to herself.

 "If I may,"  Anton cuts in, speaking aside as he performs the ritual identification over the cloak,  "A genius loci is alive, in a way. Difficult to truly kill, certainly, but it should be possible to tire it out. Were we to draw enough of its attention below and weather what comes, its control over the house above could be loosened. Perhaps its grip on the Dursts as well." 

As he speaks, the ritual comes to a conclusion and he goes silent to form the rectangle between his hands.  " Cloak of protection ,"  he relays, rather simply.  "Nothing odd about it this time. With attunement, about as solid as a shield, and it offers a measure of protection against magic and the elements." 
Prehysterical
Kellon hums thoughtfully.  "One of you lot take it. Probably need it more than I do.

So, Anton, you say "difficult to kill"... What does it entail, exactly? Guessing it isn't as simple as stabbing the timbers 'til she screams murder." 
RandomWombat
 "The simple act of burning it down would destroy the house, but not the malevolence inhabiting it. Worse case scenario, every broken bit of wood and ash is now carrying that around with it,"  he relays as he brings the cloak out and offers it up. Sokol doesn't seem to be moving from his spot right now, so Gweyir accepts the cloak.

 "As you suspected, yourself, we would need a way to consecrate this unhallowed ground. Such a task may be beyond us for now. I would suggest we leave a sign or something, warning future adventurers of this house's true nature before they enter seeking a rich family's abandoned loot." 

Spider soon returns, carrying with it the bundle of Kellon's rations - only slightly nibbled on. Spider clasps it between two forelegs and holds it up to Kellon.  "Here you go!" 
Prehysterical
Kellon accepts the delivery with a nod of his head.  "Good on you, sailor. You know how hard it is for me to get up and down stairs."  He sets them down on the table and separates them out for the others. Gweyir has the right idea, so Kellon cleans out a cup and drinks a cup before filling it up again to have with the dry rations. Kellon continues talking while eating.

 "Well, if I know adventurers, they'll take that as more encouragement than anything else. Still, you're right. Maybe we can't do anything about it now, but at least we can stop this accursed place from killing anyone else. And if your idea of distracting the place to let the Dursts escape works, that'll be sure to shiver her timbers,"  he chuckles as he envisions the house's rage.
RandomWombat
As the others partake of the dried rations, Spider creeps away in the direction of the grick, and the image of what follows is perhaps best kept from the mind. There are not a great deal of alternative options down here, where any small pests have surely been picked clean by grick and ghoul both.

 "Alas, there is little else to be done. As Darwin once said, idiocy is the cure to itself,"  taking the jug next in turn, Anton cleans himself a cup to take a drink.

  "Once we get out of here, we should see about that tavern the butcher lady mentioned. If the barkeep doesn't turn away outsiders, maybe we can figure out where to go next."  
Prehysterical
Kellon chuckles.  "I like this Darwin of yours."  Not just for the words, but Darwin sounded like a name for a turtle-lover, for some reason...

He holds up a hand to forestall Gweyir's suggestion.  "Let's get out of here alive before we worry about that, eh? No sense raising our sails if we're still anchored." 

Finishing off his glass, Kellon continues,  "Speaking of which, I am going to do us all a little favor and check that staircase on the other end of the hall. I've had enough surprises for one day and the thought of a ghoul catching me in my sleep makes me scales crawl." 
RandomWombat
 "Not a terrible idea, all told. I'm feeling quite fine myself, so I shall join you,"  Anton offers, picking up his lamp once more and following Kellon down the hall. Remembering Gustav's warning, they take the long way around, avoiding a precarious hop over the concealed pit of spikes.

From down the stairs, the chanting can be heard more clearly than before.

  "He is the Ancient. He is the Land. He is the Ancient. He is the Land. He is the Ancient. He is the Land. He is the Ancient. He is the Land."  

It repeats, over and over, echoing up from below and bouncing through the halls.
Prehysterical
Looking down the stairs, Kellon has some internal debating before looking over his shoulder at Anton.  "If that lot are in a room at the bottom of the stairs, we would be in for an ocean of trouble. Not easy to fall back on those stairs... I suggest that we have someone stand guard at the entrance to the bedchambers while we take turns getting rest. I'm out of magic, so if this turns bad, we're sunk." 
RandomWombat
 "I'm quite dry, myself. But I can perform a ritual of Alarm. It will hold for eight hours, and raise a klaxon should something cross the threshold. Once spider returns, I can take first watch and prepare the spell,"  Anton offers as the two of them linger above the stairs.
Prehysterical
 "How about you do it now and I will stay here and cover you while you perform the ritual? We don't need anyone being left alone down here. It's an open invitation for death. As your friend Darwin would put it, "Let's not be our own cure."" 
RandomWombat
 "Oh, I suppose we could just put it right here! I never thought of that,"  Anton walks down in front of Kellon with a bewildered look at his own oversight, as he kneels down and opens his spellbook before the point where the paths converge. With chalk and wand in hand, he begins to trace out the boundary of the spell across the top of the stairway.
Prehysterical
That was what Kellon thought Anton had meant in the first place... Kellon raises a claw and opens his beak to question the man, but instead clams up. Instead, Kellon merely stands ready in case... well, something happens.
RandomWombat
Thankfully, the ritual is carried out with no problem. A scrawling of chalk along the floor wards off the hallway, granted power by Anton's wand motions and chants. The chalk powder shimmers momentarily with a green light, then settles and goes dim once more.

The wizard stands and brushes off his hands.  "Well, that should do it." 
Prehysterical
 "Well, in that case, let's get some rest,"  Kellon replies gratefully.  "These past couple of days have been longer than entire weeks at sea... Can't even see the sky down in this muckhole and yet I'm tired enough that I don't care." 
RandomWombat
Together, they return to the cult quarters.  "I cannot disagree. I miss seeing the sun in the sky." 

Their undead companion, Sokol, does not sleep. But even so, Anton volunteers to stay up for first watch while he works on his journal.

 
 Spoiler: Long Rest 
The party recovers through their long rest, and regains their lost spell slots. Kellon is also able to Attune to magic items, if he wants to.
 


Time passes slowly, unknowable down in the dark of the dungeon. But one by one, each of them take their turn on watch, and each of them recover from their wounds. The effects of the Shadows' baleful touch fade and Kellon awakes with the strength restored to his limbs.
Prehysterical
Sleep was very much needed. Kellon wakes up feeling completely refreshed, something he would not have thought possible resting in a place such as this. He wakes up feeling full of salt and vinegar, ready to take on the rest of the house's horrors.

Entering the common area of the bedchambers, Kellon greets Gweyir as she also wakes.  "You're looking right as rain, lass."  Casting his gaze over the others, Kellon asks,  "So, not counting our new friend here that's on death's door, are we all ready to go?" 
RandomWombat
One by one, the others stir. Spider is first, already eagerly exploring the nooks and crannies of the cult's quarters and having woven a new nest of webbing inside of its chosen room. Next is Gweyir, who joins Kellon in the main chamber and pours herself a splash of water with the alchemy jug, waking herself with it upon her face.   "You look well rested, yourself. I reckon we're as ready for this as we're ever going to be."  
 "Who is it that's on death's door, ay?"  the zombie on the floor asks, grabbing one of the wooden pillars and dragging himself to his feet.  "I am as fresh as the day I died. Just need a little perfume."  The front of his fur-covered winter coat is open, the chain shirt worn underneath.

Lastly, Anton pulls himself out of bed with a weary yawn, wiping clean the lenses of his glasses.  "I don't suppose that jug can make coffee?" 
  "Sorry, already turned on the water. Need a splash?"  
 "Hm, no, I'll pass." 
Prehysterical
Kellon is surprised to see that Sokol has recovered so well. He acknowledges the zombie's readiness with a nod.

 "Well then, let's not waste any time. The longer this takes, the more the house catches on to our presence. I'll take point."  Kellon leads the group to the stairs.
RandomWombat
  "He is the Ancient. He is the Land."  

The now-familiar chanting continues to echo through the halls as they arrive at the intersection, where Gustav Durst awaits, kneeling next to Rose and Thorn.  "You understand? As soon as you no longer feel bound to this place, you must fly up and away as far as you can. Do not let this wretched house snare you again." 

Rose nods, and the two of them make the attempt to hug their father's knee, their ghost hands and arms serving poorly. At their father's direction, they move away, offering a wave to Kellon, their faces a mixture of sad and hopeful.

Gustav stands grimly and faces Kellon.  "Come what may, I am ready. Promise me that if things grow dire, you will not interfere with my sacrifice." 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives a grim nod in return to Gustav's request.  "Aye, I swear. May lightning puncture through wood and stone and strike me dead if I tell a lie!" 

Realizing that this may be the last time they ever speak, Kellon looks to the two ghostly children and offers them his best approximation of a smile.  "Well, little ones, if this is goodbye, I wish you a safe and speedy journey home. May the wind ever be at your back and your skies clear and sunny. Maybe someday the currents of the ocean will bring us together again. Be brave for each other." 
RandomWombat
 "Thank you all for everything,"  Rose says, as Spider crawls around along the wall to see off its two little friends. She smiles and places a ghostly hand on Spider's head as he nuzzles Thorn and makes him laugh.  "I never could have come down here alone... you're all so brave. Stay safe, Kellon." 
 "I wilw keep Rose safe, don't worwy Spider,"  Thorn lisps out, as Spider pulls back and chitters in agreement.

 "Stay safe! Don't let any webs from mean spiders catch you when you fly away!" 

After saying their goodbyes, the group marches forward, down into the ominous depths of this place. Down the last flight of stairs, they enter into a reliquary. Small niches in the walls contain mysterious and dark objects, ominous in the lamp- and spear-light.

In clockwise order, the reliquaries contain: a small, mummified yellow hand on a short rope, a knife and an aspergillum both carved from bone, a dagger with a rat's skull set into the pommel, an 8-inch wide green varnished orb with a black eye-like pupil staring out into the room, a folded cloak of stitched together ghoul skin, a desiccated frog lashed onto the end of a wand, a bag full of bat guano, a gnarled severed finger the strangest shade of purple, a 6 inch tall wooden figuring of a mummy, an iron pendant adorned with a devil's face, the shriveled shrunken head of a halfling, and a small wooden coffer sitting open, containing a mummified tongue from some kind of abnormally large dog.

There are two tunnels out of the room. One curves to the right, and the other is a sloped ramp that descends into murky water, blocked by a rusty portcullis. Gustav begins walking down the first tunnel, but stops and waits for the others if they poke around.
Prehysterical
Strange... Kellon knew the crew of the last voyage longer than these poor souls and yet he finds himself moved near to tears. Perhaps the children's wide-eyed innocence even in the face of death and horror strikes a chord within him, or the tragedy of this place makes him feel protective of souls in need of saving.

The strong emotions are washed away by grim necessity as they descend into the belly of the beast. Kellon has a brief internal debate whether to inspect the objects in the room, but then reconsiders it. Do they  really  want to be touching anything in this room unless it's absolutely necessary? Normally, Kellon would jump (albeit not very high) at the prospect of getting into water, but the murky water around the portcullis seems more of a death trap than anything else. They had to stay focused.

Kellon follows Gustav down the corridor.
RandomWombat
Through the tunnel they progress, Anton looking towards the myriad occult talismans with hesitant curiosity. But Kellon's pressing forth gives him no time to succumb to temptation, as the troupe falls once more into single file. The chanting grows more distant again, seemingly echoing from the wet, murky chamber beyond the portcullis.

Next they pass through a true dungeon. Cells without even wooden doors lie empty, or holding long dead skeletons. In one, near where Gustav turns off the central corridor, the skeleton's hand holds a glitter of gold in the spearlight. A golden ring around its finger.

Gustav, however, stares intently at the wall. One clawed hand he lifts up, and sets upon the stone.  "Beyond here is the chamber where our most wicked rites were held. Are you ready to enter?" 

Behind Kellon, each of the faces nod their readiness in turn - save Spider, who wiggles an 'arm' up over Anton's shoulder.
Prehysterical
The glitter of the ring is a momentary distraction, but it is something that can be investigated later. Kellon grasps the Spear of Light firmly and gives his own nod.  "Let the clouds burst!" 
RandomWombat
The click of a mechanism can be heard, as Gustav slides a stone into the wall. A grinding of stone on stone as the wall begins to pull apart, forming a jagged opening like the jaws of some beast. Beyond is the chamber on the other side of the portcullis. Much of the room is drowned in murky waist-deep water, save for the stone ledge around the edges and a raised stone dais at the center. The moment the screeching of the secret door ends, so too does the ominous chanting from within.

Featureless stone pillars hold up the ceiling of the large chamber, and its acoustics echo each drop of dripping water. The central dais is decorated with images of hideous, grasping ghouls, reaching up towards a central altar. Stained trails cover the alter and spider across the surface of the dais towards the water, left behind by old blood. Above the altar dangle old rusty chains and manacles.

To the right, there is a small alcove. Its walls and ceiling are natural earth, rather than shaped stone. Within is a reeking pile of discarded flesh and bone, covered in the fungus and decay that have taken root in it. All that remains of the cult's victims. To the left is the portcullis, and a wooden crank wheel set into the wall to operate it, somewhat akin to a sideways ship's wheel.

Gustav steps out into the water, approaching the central dais. As he does, figures begin to appear one by one around the edges of the room. They flicker in and out of existence as if by some unknowable pattern, each a tall figure in dark robes, holding what appears to be a tall, staff-sized torch. But where a mundane torch would shed light, these flames are black as void, as if sucking in light itself.

The chanting resumes, echoing and bouncing from wall to wall. But the words now are different.  "One must die. One must die. One must die. One must die!"  They begin pounding their torches upon the stone in a rhythmic thump to the tune of their chanting.
Prehysterical
It seems like the portcullis leads to the same place, after all... This chamber is like a corrupted version of the elements themselves. Soiled water, defiled earth, tainted air, and insatiable flame without light...

Gustav already has his own plans, but Kellon looks back pleadingly at Anton.  "Lad, tell me that there's something in your books about kicking this house in its teeth. I don't feel like feeding the sharks any chum today!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Religion check to see any way to disrupt the ceremony:  (1d20+1)[ 10 ] 
Insight check for a gut feeling about whether there is an alternative Gustav's willing sacrifice (or throwing anyone in the party on the chopping block):  (1d20+5)[ 10 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Religion &amp; Insight 
Religion: So far, the ceremony has no entered any stage where it would be beyond stopping. There is a hum of power in the air, but there is no spark.

Insight: Kellon wracks his mind, but no sudden bursts of inspiration emerge.
 


Anton looks around at the chamber through the hidden doorway.  "The house's 'eyes' are on us now. We need to cause damage to it somehow, tire it out to make it weak. Like destroying manifestations of its power." 

Stopping on the stairs, Gustav looks back at Kellon, awaiting his play before he takes the last steps up to the corrupt altar.
Prehysterical
Growing more frantic, Kellon asks,  "What about the artifacts in the other room? If we destroy them, would that weaken this place's power?" 
RandomWombat
 "I don't know... we can try,"  Anton looks back over his shoulder. Thin something lights up in his eyes.  "Thirteen artifacts, thirteen figures in the room. You could be onto something."  He points at the portcullis.  "Someone get that thing up, I'll get started!"  Lamp in hand, the writer turns and steps carefully around Spider, starting to make his way back the way they came.
Prehysterical
Kellon tries to forestall the disgraced father.  "Weigh anchor for a moment, sailor! Want to try a little something before you walk the plank."  Kellon hustles through the water and puts work into raising the portcullis.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Don't know if this needs a Strength check, but:  (1d20+4)[ 12 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The old wheel catches for but a moment on years of rust, before it begins to raise the portcullis with a grating grinding noise of uneven metal against uneven stone. But raise it does. The shadowy figure nearest Kellon glares down at him with blazing eyes of fury beneath its dark hood.  "One must die!" 

As one, the figures slam the butts of their torches into the ground. Dark flame shoots up, flicking across the room in crisscrossing lines and patterns to coalesce around the pile of detritus in the small natural alcove. The mound of tainted flesh, bone and fungus shudders, as the dark flame suffuses it from within, 'glowing' through holes in its mass as it rises up and glides out into the foul water.  "One must die!" 

The clattering of bones echoes from the prison, alongside the rattling of chains.  "The bones are walking!"  Turning on his heel, Sokol steps inside and swings at the (other) animated dead.

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
 Combat Begins 

Skeleton B - 22
Sokol - 14
Skeleton A - 12
Kellon - 11
Spider - 10
Gustav Durst - 8
Skeleton C - 8
Eldritch Manifestations - 8
Anton - 5
Gweyir - 3
Skeleton D - 3
Corpse Mound - 1
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
The Portcullis is open (marked by white rectangle).

Skeleton B animates and attacks Spider with its chains, but misses.

Sokol attacks Skeleton B with his silver shortsword, but misses; he follows up with his bone club, dealing  6  super effective damage!

Skeleton A animates and chases after Anton and attacks with its chains, but misses.

It is Kellon's turn!
 
Prehysterical
As chaos ensues, all Kellon can see is the massive threat rising on the other side of the room. Such a monstrosity would surely crush any caught within its reach. Yes, destroying the artifacts was important, but so was not having everyone die down here. Kellon grasps at his holy symbol and points at the mound.  "Heartseeker!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Guiding Bolt at the mound.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 21 ] 
Damage:  (4d6)[ 17 ]  Radiant
If it hits, the next attack roll against it gains Advantage.
 
RandomWombat
From the aloft trident, white light gathers in the prongs. It launches into the air across the room, spearing towards the pile of refuse, like a memory of the spear of Poseidon's brother pulled from the aether. It pierces true, the massive collection of rot making no effort to evade, and surging forward as inevitably as the tide.

Gustav turns on the stair just above the water, staring down the abomination. He holds out his arms to either side, as if taunting it to come to him. Yet Kellon can see his feet shift, poised to lunge or to leap. Not surrender. No more suicidal than a bull fighter. Gweyir lays her hand on the stone and utters,   "Ignitum!"   There is some sputtering at first, as a fire begins to form atop the water. But the corpse mound divides in two, diverging and beginning to slither around it.

As its mass alights upon the steps with him, Gustav steps swiftly, lashing out with a claw before it can attack. But he fails to do more than tear off some of the mossy coating upon its form.

One of the figures standing on the edge of the chamber taps its dark torch upon the stone.  "One must die!"  And alongside its cry, Kellon can hear a gurgling and growling inside the reliquary, like some wretched beast awakening; followed by a disgusting horking noise.

 "Eugh! Suffosio!"  Anton's disgusted tone can be heard, alongside his footsteps on stone and the clank and scratch of bones scrabbling against the floor after him.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Guiding Bolt on the Corpse Mound, dealing  17  radiant damage and marking it.
Spider bites Skeleton B for a  10  damage Sneak Attack, destroying it.
Gustav Durst readies an action to attack when the mound approaches.

Skeleton C lashes Sokol with its chains, hitting for  3  damage.
Sick Jimmy's Head manifests. It spits bile at Anton, but he avoids it.

Anton casts Suffosio on Skeleton A, dealing  2  necrotic damage and Prone. He runs past Jimmy's head, but it has no AoO viable attacks to make.
Gweyir casts Create Bonfire on the Corpse Mound, but it avoids the damage.

Skeleton D lashes Sokol, dealing  5  damage.
Corpse Mound Dashes to reach Gustav. Gustav takes his readied action, but misses.

Sokol strikes Skeleton D for  3  damage with his shortsword; then misses with his club.

Skeleton A gets up and pursues Anton, Dashing to corner him.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Sokol - 14
Skeleton A - 12
Kellon - 11
Spider - 10
Gustav Durst - 8
Skeleton C - 8
Eldritch Manifestations - 8
Anton - 5
Gweyir - 3
Skeleton D - 3
Corpse Mound - 1
 
Prehysterical
It seems a titanic task, but the horrid thing must fall. Holy light is their best weapon. Kellon repeats his invocation.  "Heartseeker!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Guiding Bolt again.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 23 ] 
Damage:  (4d6)[ 14 ]  Radiant
Hit, Advantage, yadda yadda.
 
RandomWombat
Another bolt from the blue pierces its writhing form, searing unclean flesh and bone. Kellon can feel waves in the water, can feel the foundations tremble. It  felt  that. Gustav lunges forwards, practically diving into the thing as he thrusts his claws in deep, yanking out piece after piece. But two hands, even ghoulish ones, can only do so much. Gweyir lowers herself down to the ground and changes shape, taking on an arachnid form much like Spider's, but somewhat smaller. She crawls down and half-walks half-floats through the water to flank the mound from behind, if indeed it has sides at all.

Like the primitive methods of a slime, two masses rising up and slamming into Gustav from either side. Before they can pull him into its embrace, he tugs away, breaking free.

 "They're coming to life!"  a pained cry from Anton announces trouble in the reliquary.  "Laven Byon Seek!"  His incantation is followed by the sound of several impacts and a loud whip-crack of metal chains against bone. A glass lamp shatters against stone and Anton goes silent.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes Corpse Mound with Guiding Bolt for  14  radiant damage, and marks it.
Spider climbs onto the wall and bites Skeleton D for a  19  damage sneak attack critical hit, destroying it!
Gustav takes a swipe at the Corpse Mound, dealing  5  damage.

Skeleton C lashes at Spider, but misses.
Sick Jimmy's head spits bile at Anton, but he avoids it.
Flesheating Cloak manifests. It grapples Anton, dealing  1  damage.

Anton casts (Kellon Arcana: Magic Missile), dealing  7  damage to the Flesheating Cloak and  2  damage to Skeleton A.
Gweyir Wild Shapes into a Giant Wolf Spider.

Corpse Mound slams Gustav, missing once and hitting once for  12  damage.

Sokol attacks Skeleton C, missing with his sword but landing a  9  damage critical hit with his bone club, breaking the improvised weapon!

Skeleton A lashes Anton, for a  7  damage critical hit and knocking him out.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Sokol - 14
Skeleton A - 12
Kellon - 11
Spider - 10
Gustav Durst - 8
Skeleton C - 8
Eldritch Manifestations - 8
Anton - 5
Gweyir - 3
Corpse Mound - 1
 
Prehysterical
 "Ha ha,"  Kellon exults as the very house itself quakes in pain at divine retribution. Anton's warning and the sound of shattering glass, however, have Kellon realize the man's dire straits. He tells the pair engaging the mound,  "Keep it busy! I need to help our wizard!"  Kellon rushes through the portcullis, immediately seeing a life-or-death ultimatum. Kellon cannot close the distance all the way, but he casts the Spear of Light at the skeleton in a fit of desperation.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I am assuming that the water does not impose a movement penalty.
Ranged attack against the skeleton with the spear:  (1d20+6)[ 22 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 7 ]  Magic Piercing
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Definitely not for Kellon.
 


The Spear of Light sails through the air, piercing through the skeleton's ribcage and shattering several bones along its path. It remains lodged in there, suspended, as the skeleton turns to face Kellon with empty eye sockets that burn with dark fire. It is wielding the heavy metal chains that once bound it to the wall, hanging from its manacles like primitive flails.

From the side hallway into the prison, Spider leaps off of the wall and lands next to the floating shrunken halfling head, green bile dripping from its open mouth and sizzling against the floor. With a disgusting belch it vomits the liquid all over Kellon's shell, sending burning sensations through his body as it sizzles and pops. On the other side of Spider, the mummified hand hops down from its pedestal and crawls towards the arachnid in a sickeningly similar mockery of its movement. With two sharpened claws it slashes at Spider's side, leaving a few small marks.

While Kellon is distracted by the acid, the skeleton slaps him across the side of the head with its chain flail.

The ghoulskin cloak wraps itself around Anton's fallen body, to the tune of sickening munching sounds.

Behind him, inside the room, Gweyir and Gustav continue their struggle against the mound. There is a squelching sound as something is dragged inside of it.

 "Never fear, Sokol is here!"  announces the zombie's arrival on the scene.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon throws his spear at Skeleton A, dealing  7  damage.
Spider Dashes into the reliquary.
Gustav slashes Corpse Mound for  10  damage.

Skeleton C lashes at Sokol, but misses.
Sick Jimmy's Head uses (Kellon Arcana: Acid Splash) on Kellon, hitting for  4  acid damage.
Flesheating Cloak feasts on Anton, dealing 1 failed Death Save.
Goblin's Paw manifests. It crawls to Spider and scratches at it, dealing  2  damage.

Anton passes a Death Save.
Gweyir bites Corpse Mound, dealing  6  damage.

Corpse Mound slams Gustav, dealing  9  damage and then  12  damage. He is grappled and engulfed by the mound.

Sokol attacks Skeleton C, dealing  7  damage and destroying it. He moves into the main room and uses Second Wind to heal for  4 .

Skeleton A lashes at Kellon, hitting for  3  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Sokol - 14
Skeleton A - 12
Kellon - 11
Spider - 10
Gustav Durst - 8
Skeleton C - 8
Eldritch Manifestations - 8
Anton - 5
Gweyir - 3
Corpse Mound - 1
 
Prehysterical
The pain of the searing acid and the slap from the chain incite Kellon into a rage. He steps forward with a war cry, drawing forth his warhammer and aiming for the skeleton's smug skeletal smirk.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Drawing a weapon as part of a move action.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 24 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 11 ]  Bludgeoning (aka Get Rekt Skeleton) damage
 
RandomWombat
The warhammer smashes through the skeleton like a porcelain vase, sending bones and fragments scattering across the floor. The Spear of Light drops to the ground with a clatter.

Spider rears up and pulls the floating head into its mouth with a sickening crunch. The house shakes again, trembling as a fragment of its power is lost - if only for a time. Kellon could swear that one of the voices in the chant has been silenced. But no sooner has one been vanquished, than the blade set with the rat skull in its pommel rises from its pedestal and flies across the room to embed itself in Spider's leg. The rat's jaw clacks together as if laughing.

There is another crunch from the cloak as it tears into Anton's throat, and his blood pools on the floor. A final gasp escapes the wizard's mouth.

The house trembles again, dust falling from the ceiling and the walls as those in the room continue to fight against its mighty avatar.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon smashes Skeleton A, dealing  16  damage and obliterating it.
Spider bites Sick Jimmy's Head for  10  damage, destroying it. Corpse Mound takes damage as the Manifestation is destroyed.
Gustav breaks free of the Corpse Mound's grapple.

Flesheating Cloak feasts on Anton, dealing 1 failed Death Save. One more and he will perish.
Goblin's Paw scratches at Spider, but misses.
Rat Blade manifests and slashes at Spider, hitting for  5  damage.

Anton fails his third Death Save, and has perished.
Gweyir bites the Corpse Mound, dealing  5  damage.

Corpse Mound slams Gustav, missing both times.

Sokol attacks Corpse Mound, hitting for  6  and  4  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Sokol - 14
Kellon - 11
Spider - 10
Gustav Durst - 8
Eldritch Manifestations - 8
Gweyir - 3
Corpse Mound - 1
 
Prehysterical
The moment of exultation Kellon feels as the skeleton fades into powder dies in his throat as he hears Anton's deathrattle. Too late... The storm bursts into lightning and thunder in Kellon's heart as his warhammer goes to his other hand and he picks up the Spear of Light, stabbing it at the ghoul-skin cloak in a petty act of retribution for his own failure.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon picks up the Spear of Light as part of his move action.
Attack against the cloak:  (1d20+6)[ 18 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 5 ]  Magic Piercing damage
 
RandomWombat
The spear slices through the ghoul skin like butter and Kellon tears the cloak in two with a yank of the weapon. It falls to the ground, resting over Anton's body like a funeral shroud.

Spider seems to be struggling against the two small targets, jittering to and fro on the floor and in the air. The nicks and cuts are beginning to pile up and tire the arachnid.  "Kellon! I need help!"  its innocent voice calls out.

The bag of guano is torn open as a disgusting amorphous blob of bat dung in the shape of a bat crawls out and falls to the floor. It lurches pathetically towards Kellon and bites at his feet ineffectually, like a tiny chihuahua gnawing on a table leg.

From the murky room below, there is a loud thud and a splash. A glance down sees Gustav in a dead man's float in the murky water. His limbs still twitch and try to actuate, but cannot muster the strength.

The chanting grows to a fever pitch, equal parts manic and desperate.   " One must die ! He is the Ancient! He is the Land!  One must die !"  
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes the Flesheating Cloak for  5  damage, destroying it. The Corpse Mound is damaged by its destruction.
Spider bites at Goblin's Paw, but misses.
Gustav slashes Corpse Mound for  12  damage.

Goblin's Paw scratches at Spider, dealing  2  damage.
Rat Blade slashes at Spider, dealing  2  damage.
Bat**** Bat **** Bat bites at Kellon, but misses.

Gweyir bites the Corpse Mound for  2  damage.

Corpse Mound slams Gustav for  8  damage, defeating him.

Sokol steps in to flank in Gustav's place, striking twice for  5  and  5  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Sokol - 14
Kellon - 11
Spider - 10
Gustav Durst - 8
Eldritch Manifestations - 8
Gweyir - 3
Corpse Mound - 1
 
Prehysterical
Spider's plea tears at Kellon's heart like a shark. In his fury, he shouts back at the figures,  "One  has  died, you bastards! I spit on your god!" 
 "Hang on, lad!"  One death would be on his conscience today. Not two.

Kellon steps forward and tries to swat the dagger out of the air.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 16 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 8 ]  Magic Piercing
 
RandomWombat
Kellon's spear slaps the blade down against the stone, leaving a crack through its handle. Spider grabs into it and rips the rat skull off, and the artifact goes inert as the house shakes again. Shooting out a bungee rope of web behind it, Spider yoinks itself out of the fight and crawls away on the ceiling to hide.

The hideous little artifacts gnaw and scratch at Kellon's tough feet, unable to get through. Levitating from its resting place, the infernal amulet floats towards Kellon and jabs at him with its iron horns, but they clatter off of his shell.

Then all at once, the chanting stops. The shaking stops. The items all fall to the floor, inert. The dark voices rattle a last roar of defiance that dies into a whimper. All is still - for the moment. The house's exhaustion may not last long.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon strikes the Rat Blade for  8  damage. Bat takes an AoO as he moves away, but misses.
Spider bites the Rat Blade for a  5  damage Sneak Attack, destroying it. Spider Disengages as a bonus action and flees.

Goblin's Paw scratches at Kellon, but misses.
Bat bites at Kellon, but misses.
Devil Amulet manifests and attacks Kellon, but misses.

Gweyir bites Corpse Mound for  7  damage.
Sokol slashes Corpse Mound for  6  damage and bites it for  6  more, destroying it.

Combat has ended.
 
Prehysterical
Lost in his grief, the silencing of the chant and the stillness of the house go unnoticed. Kellon continues to batter and stab with his spear, tearing into the guano, the hand, and the amulet, a wordless cry of anguish ripped from his throat.
RandomWombat
Shifted back into her elven form, Gweyir pulls herself up the slope from the murky water below.   "Kellon. Anton. We did it."   She looks unharmed, but tired, as she helps Sokol up behind her - Gustav across his shoulders in a fireman carry.

 "We must hurry, friends! Before we must do this all over again!" 

Spider peeks back into the room and then scurries down, over to Anton's side. It prods Anton's body, urging him,  "Get up! We got to go!" 
Prehysterical
Once the blood stops roaring in his earholes, Kellon stops and breathes heavily within his shell. The words of the others breach his anger and Kellon looks over to see Spider prodding at Anton's corpse. As Kellon slings his warhammer, he tells Spider in a shaky voice,  "He's... He's not getting up, little lad."  Kellon slings the poor man's body over his shoulder. Anton would not be stuck in this forsaken prison, not while he had anything to say about it.
RandomWombat
 "Is he-" 
  "We'll talk about it later,"   Gweyir places a hand on Spider's head and leads it towards the stairs, healing magic flowing into both Spider and Kellon. Sokol brings up the rear, his slow gait slowed further by his cargo.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Gweyir casts Healing Word twice, restoring  6  to Spider and  2  to Kellon.
 


Their group trudges back upwards, towards Strahd's shrine and the hidden door to the first floor. Gweyir and Spider peel the clay off of the door and open it up for Kellon and Sokol. But it seems that not all will be a walk in the park from here.

As they arrive at the trapdoor and open it, they find the den filled with choking, acrid smoke. The furniture and structure are rotten and shapes writhe within the boards of the decaying walls. Somewhere in the smoke, Kellon can hear the swish and whoosh of swinging blades. With the last of its strength, the House is throwing everything it has left at them.

  "****. Alright, we need to make sure nobody gets lost in this mess."  
Prehysterical
Kellon holds aloft the shining head of the Spear of Light to try and combat the smoke.  "I will go first." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Perception for the smoke and doubtless traps:  (1d20+3)[ 5 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Kellon pushes forward into the smoke. It stings his lungs as he tries to breathe, lugging Anton's body through the room. He stumbles into the chair as he wanders past it towards the door. The windows are all bricked up now, as they were in the childrens' room. Were those bricks even the parents' doing, or just the house working to torment the children on its own?

As he reaches the first door, he sees through tearful, stinging eyes a swinging blade going back and forth through the gap. The entire door itself has simply vanished, replaced by this mechanical guillotine.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Kellon passes his Con save against poison damage from the smoke.

The first blade trap lies ahead. There is another in the door to the foyer. Avoiding the blades is a Dex save. The main hall is also filled with smoke and will take a Con save to avoid poison damage. The foyer is safe, and the exterior door is not trapped. Kellon can feel free to roll those saves in sequence, unless something happens that requires him to stop.

Making a DC 15 Intelligence check to memorize the pattern of the blades before going through grants advantage on the save.
 
Prehysterical
Everything results in a blur of sensation for Kellon. Aware of the poison in the air and the blades ahead he may be, but all he can do is push forward. Almost to the exit...
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
First Dex save:  (1d20)[ 9 ] 
Con save:  (1d20+1)[ 19 ] 
Second Dex save:  (1d20)[ 16 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Through the first door, Kellon moves to soon - the blade, on its backswing, slams into him. There is a sickening ker-chunk. It isn't until he's stumbling through the second room that he realizes it was not him. His shell absorbed most of the impact and cutting force, but one of Anton's arms was sliced off and is left laying on the ground. There is little to be done about an arm, however.

More prepared for the second door, Kellon slips through without a problem. He heaves his way into the foyer, where the smoke from the fireplaces does not reach. The shield on the wall has been transfigured, its face now tarnished and its windmill motif chipped and peeling.

Behind him, Gweyir stumbles through the blades and the poison in spider form - at first he thinks it is Spider, until she is sliced open by the first guillotine and shifts back into her normal form. Finally falling through the last door, Gweyir gets slashed again and thrown into the wall, where she lands unconscious and bleeding beside Kellon.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Gweyir wildshapes into spider form again. She takes  4  poison, then  7  slashing that reverts her to normal form, then  6  poison and  12  slashing that KO's her.
 
Prehysterical
Close... Too close. Not near as close as Gweyir suffers, however. Looking down at her broken, bloody wreck, Kellon kneels down and uses the last of his magic.  "Don't you die on me, druid! Your brother is waiting for you!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon uses Cure Wounds on Gweyir.
 (1d8+3)[ 7 ]  healing
 
RandomWombat
She coughs and pushes herself up on one arm.   "I'm alive. Alive. Whew. Thanks."  

Spider goes practically unnoticed, crawling along the wall behind Kellon and back onto the floor. It seems to have glided through the entire gauntlet unscathed.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
20, 18, 20, 18 on the dice. A true Rogue.
 


Last comes Sokol, lugging Gustav along with him. The poison of course has no hold over his undead lungs as he lurches through, but he practically dives headfirst through both of the guillotines. Emerging out the other side, he arrives in the hallway, he and Gustav covered in many huge gashes that by all rights should be deadly to any living thing.

 "And so Sokol survives, as always, by sheer dumb luck! How about we get out into the fresh air my friends?" 
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Immune to poison, but takes exactly enough to leave him hanging on at 1 hit point.
 


Gweyir opens the final door... to find that the mist has passed. The empty, black midnight streets await beyond.   "Sweet relief."  
Prehysterical
"Relief" is far from the word that Kellon would use, but the absence of the Mist could not have come at a better time. Looking at Sokol, Kellon shakes his head in amazement.  "If you weren't dead already, you lucky boyo, I would buy you rum until you passed out!" 

They burst out of the doors, uncaring for the hour or who or whatever may be listening. Kellon gasps for air as his lungs purge the poison from his system. Looking back forlornly at the manor, Kellon asks in a weary voice,  "Do you think the children made it out?" 
RandomWombat
Outside into the crisp night air, the survivors all pile. Sokol lays Gustav upon the ground and stands tall, holding out his arms to his sides. He faces skyward, his eyes closed. Unlike the Barovian day, the night is clear with not a cloud in the sky. A brilliant full moon looms above, and tiny pinpricks of starlight dot the expanse of blackness.  "Ah, sweet Barovian moonlight. Were that I could take you up on that rum, this night would be complete." 

Gweyir drops to her knees, exhausted. The silver sword in her hand, like the other items from inside the first two floors of the manor, seems to have aged and accumulated years of tarnish and wear. After the wave of relief passes, she looks to Anton's unmoving form, draped over Kellon. Pale as a ghost and dripping only a few trails of red into the street.   "It would be complete if we all made it out. Dammit. Why- why did he always have to go running off into cursed rooms?"  

Spider makes a few sad chittering and whimpering noises, but a ghostly hand runs along his back.  "It'w be okay." 

Standing there with them in the street are the spectral forms of Rose and Thorn. It is perhaps fortunate that the streets are empty, or their strange congregation may awaken yet another lynch mob.

Gustav's twisted, corrupted form begins to come apart. Ghoulish flesh reduced to dust. Beneath that mask of death, a spectral form is uncovered. The Gustav from the paintings throughout the house, as he was in life. He drifts up into a standing position and looks around. His eyes settle first on the exterior of the house, unchanged from when the group went in. And then they settle on his children.

Now all spirits, the three converge in a group hug, crying ethereal tears of relief.


On the outside of the door to the Death House, Kellon notices a note stuck there with a dagger.

 
 Spoiler: Note 
 Visitors to Barovia,
My sincerest condolences for your loss.
This house has taken many good souls. That you not one heralds the day when no more souls are lost in darkness.
To any who wish to walk free again in the light of the sun, come and visit me in my camp across the bridge. You will be welcome here. You will be safe. The cards do not lie.
~Madame Eva 
 
Prehysterical
Kellon sets Anton's body upon the ground, trying not to look too closely at the damage done to his remains. He is unable to look at Gweyir as he answers,  "Because I sent him in there alone... I was too late." 

He wants to feel some sort of triumph at the children's appearance in the street, but all he can taste is ashes in his mouth. Only the sight of their father embracing them brings any sort of minor comfort to Kellon.

Through his tearing eyes, Kellon notices the message pinned to the door. His first impression of the note almost sounds like taunting from one of Strahd's cronies, but the last sentence catches his attention.  "The cards do not lie...,"  he mutters quietly to himself. Perhaps not every mysterious force in this land served the evil vampire...
RandomWombat
Standing up, Gustav steps behind the two children, a hand on each of their shoulders.  "What you have given us I can never repay."  He looks upon Anton's body solemnly.  "I am sorry for your friend." 
 "Death is only another goodbye,"  Sokol speaks softly, still bathing in the open air, waving back and forth with the wind.  "Take it from a man who has lived and died twice... the wheel in the sky ever turns, and someday you may meet again in a new life. A better life if we make it a better world, no?"  The man opens his eyes and finally looks down from the sky.  "What is important: this damned house has no grasp upon any of us now." 
 "I'm sorry..."  Rose looks down at the pavement guiltily.  "The house... made us draw people in. Let us ask for help and this... this happened so much before." 
 "But this time it lost." 
Prehysterical
Kellon knows that Sokol is correct. Death is part of the cycle, part of life. But Anton was so full of curiosity. It was so clear that he wanted to learn more about this world... He sniffs.  "I was too hard on him. He were as brave as any topman."  Kellon stows the note away and plucks the dagger from the door.

 "Oh, it's done more than lost, lads and lasses,"  Kellon rumbles.  "This house made the mistake of messing with a tortle! We may not be as long-lived as dwarves or even humans, but we can display a commitment and patience that puts either to shame! This, I vow: I will not leave Barovia until the evil in this place has been scattered to the corners of the cosmos! That fool Strahd has brought a herald of the Tempest to his own doorstep!" 

Like the wind dying and the sails falling flat, Kellon deflates as his bravado flags. These had been the longest couple of days in his life, even longer than the days when he was burying his parents on the island. He looks to the Dursts and ventures,  "Well... I am guessing that this is goodbye." 
RandomWombat
  "I'll drink to that,"   Gweyir announces, clanging the tarnished silver Durst sword against the paving stones.

Gustav looks down at his hands, beginning to turn smoky as wisps trail off into the night. Rose and Thorn are beginning to fade as well.  "So it would seem. I have one last thing to give. Should you meet a family named the Wachters, tell them that you have come to reclaim a debt for the Dursts. Present some proof - our family sword, our deeds. And they should pay you what we were owed. Farewell." 
 "Thank you for everything,"  Rose waves, a sad smile on her face. Thorn pets Spider one last time, as the Dursts pass on.

  "Well. We have burial arrangements to make,"   adjusting the pillow cases holding the childrens' bones, Gweyir looks to the foot path out of the village, from which they originally arrived.

 "I would be happy to help, of course." 
Prehysterical
Unfortunately, Kellon left the deeds to the house inside. He had never expected a slapdash escape from the house. Kellon waves goodbye to them quietly; he will need to express his grief properly later.

 "We need to go across the bridge,"  Kellon interjects during the discussion concerning burial.  "It seems that a certain woman who enjoys handing out cards to strangers wants to make our acquaintance. Any port in a storm, at this point."  He uses the dagger to scratch a message into the front door:

 NO RICHES
ONLY DEATH 
RandomWombat
 "Surely bridge can wait for morning, ay? Not safe to wander Barovian roads at night. Bury our man, find a place to stay - well! Place for you to stay. The little spider and I probably not welcome at inn!"  Sokol laughs, perhaps at himself calling Spider 'little'.  "Maybe we lurk in graveyard, make some new ghost stories." 
 "Humans think spiders are not cute,"  Spider affirms.

  "I can sleep just about anywhere. Druid upbringing."  
 
 Spoiler: Anton's Stuff 
His equipment left behind, and anything he was carrying for the group:
-Scholar's Pack (contains writing supplies and 4 remaining days' worth of trail rations)
-Wooden Wand Spell Focus
-Silver Dagger (sheathe is disguised inside a functioning pen)
-Anton's Spellbook
-Yellowed Spellbook
-Alchemy Jug
 
Prehysterical
 "No graveyards, not tonight. I'd rather take my chances in the woods than see another undead this night... present company excluded,"  Kellon amends.  "Besides, Spider can find himself something to eat and we don't have to worry about villagers happening upon us and mistaking us for graverobbers. Considering what happened just in the past hour, we are  not  splitting up again." 
RandomWombat
  "Alright. Let's go find somewhere to camp then,"   Gweyir sets out towards the road out of the village. Spider skitters along at her heel, with Sokol lagging a little behind on his stiff legs.

 "I will not complain of company!"  the zombie announces.

The Mist has receded away from the village, and the lands around it. As they pass by the old road and the hunters' abandoned campsite, its flames dead and gone, they see the valley stretch out around them. A few small farms dot the countryside. To the north, tall cliffs overlook the valley. To the southwest, a mountain stands across the river.

But the Mist is not gone. It swirls and looms to the east, stretching up and down the borders of this land. An impenetrable wall as high as the stars and the sky.
Prehysterical
Kellon hefts the scholar's body back onto his shoulder.  "Just a little longer, shipmate,"  he promises.

As they look out into the valley, Kellon asks for Gweyir's counsel.  "What do you think? Make our way to the base of the cliffs and set up camp? It would limit the number of angles anyone could come at us." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Survival roll:  (1d20+5)[ 13 ] 
 
RandomWombat
  "Sounds like a good idea. I'd say we should look for caves, but - well, I wouldn't trust any caves here."  
 
 Spoiler: Survival 
There's a forested area beneath the cliffs which would also provide cover from the village. Kellon knows that there are wolves in these woods, so there will definitely need to be a watch.
 
Prehysterical
The possibility of wolves does not overly concern Kellon.  "Well, let's not waste any time, then. My steps hasten me to a resting place, wherever I may fall." 
RandomWombat
Together, the party treks around the edge of the village to the opposite side and travel north. From the north of the village, the woods are not far. The grass is still slick with the slimy dew left by the Mist, clinging to their feet and boots and making them slide around.

It become easier going after they reach the treeline. The trees of Barovia stand tall, and their branches hold close to their sides as they grow higher. No canopy blocks the light of the full moon as it shows their way, but many shadows stretch and weave across the path. The trunks of the trees provide grip on slopes, and the dirt ground beneath, crawling with roots, provides better traction than the slick grass of the Barovian fields.

Then they arrive at the cliffside. Crags loom up above them, great towers of stone jutting up alongside one another like a phalanx of sentinels blocking their path. Where they bend and curve around caves, hanging shapes of bats lurk within. Their tiny eyes open up and fix upon the group, glowing unnaturally. The same unwelcoming stare of the local townsfolk.
Prehysterical
Wanting at least a little shelter, but willing to settle for less, Kellon seeks out a defensible position with coverage, one that will not disturb too many of the cliff denizens.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Survival:  (1d20+5)[ 24 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Going to and fro along the base of the cliffs, Kellon finds a place where the trees and bushes cluster together to form a natural wall on one side, up to the cliffs. It creates what is effectively a corner at their back, save for anything small enough to slither through the bushes. Should anything larger try to come through, there will be plenty of noise in warning.

  "Good eye, this seems like a good place,"   looking to Kellon, still carrying Anton over his shoulder, Gweyir sighs and sets the childrens' pillow cases on the ground.   "Guess we should get digging. He'll start to rot if we leave him lying out here. Possibly draw wolves too."  
 "I did not bring any shovel, but I am not averse to manual labor,"  Sokol holds up his empty hands.

Spider crawls up onto the cliff wall, settling in onto a few of the crags in a watchful perch. It wastes no time beginning to construct webbing, stretching strands out to surround the camp in silken tripwires.
Prehysterical
This little sanctuary looks cozy enough to be a tortle shell... Kellon sighs as he is forced to agree with Gweyir. Much as he would prefer to leave it to later, they cannot wait any longer to deal with the question of Anton's body. Kellon would have preferred to give the outlander a more spectacular view for his final resting place, but survival always beats out aesthetics.

Rummaging through his own supplies, Kellon reluctantly sets aside his own shield and a bucket as potential digging tools. He flexes his claws as he tells the pair,  "Grab what you prefer. Tortles are no stranger to digging with claws, even if it is usually sand instead of landlubber dirt." 
RandomWombat
Sokol picks up the shield and begins using it to clear dirt away, a little ways away from the tree roots. Gweyir takes the bucket.   "I could have taken the form of some digging animal, but I used up all of my power earlier in the night. Not that I regret it - those blades would have hurt a lot more without it."  

As the three of them work, Spider scurries around and above. Its quickly woven webs will do little to keep out smaller insects such as mosquitoes, but it should keep the eerie bats away and in their caves.

The work of digging takes hours, to make the grave deep enough not to be dug up by predators. Here upon the edge of the cliffs, in the higher parts of the valley, there is no worry of water flooding it out and away. By the time they finish, the moon has fallen beneath the trees and out of view, stretching darkness through the small nook of their campsite. The Spear of Light, perched in the ground like a streetlamp, oversees the last of their work.

With help from a few of Spider's strings, Anton is lowered into the grave and the undertakers climb back out. Still dressed in his suit jacket, his hands are folded in front of him, glasses tucked into his suit pocket and eyes drawn closed as if sleeping.

Then begins the work of the burial. Faster work, but no less strenuous. When at last it is done, and the patch of freshly moved dirt lie still once more, Kellon and Gweyir are tired out by the hard work. Sokol displays no signs of fatigue as he holds his hands upon his hips and looks upon their work.

Gweyir takes some stones from beneath the crags and lays them out as a grave marker. She sets Anton's wooden wand upon them, nestled in to rest above his head.
Prehysterical
It's hard and grueling work, but it's honest work. No slouching or cut corners for the man who fought, bled, and died beside them. As Anton is laid to rest in the grave, Kellon holds the man's journal and ponders it. There is a momentary temptation to keep it, to read the man's logs and gain more insight into his world. Ultimately, Kellon instead places the journal into the folded hands of his dead comrade. Anton's thoughts were his own and Kellon wishes to respect his privacy. Let the dead have their dignity.

While Gweyir sets up a cairn tombstone for the grave, Kellon stands still and bows his head in deep thought. There needed to be a sendoff to the man to speed him on his way home, but Kellon simply could not find the words. He had not truly known the man that long, so a traditional eulogy would ring hollow. Perhaps something more personal? Yes, like a sea shanty...

As the morning sun rose, Kellon finally raises his head. He thinks he has the proper ballad to commemorate the man's sacrifice. This country of Barovia was like a run-down ship, poorly maintained and helmed by a cruel captain. Far better that Anton should be far away from this place. With that in mind, Kellon sucks in a breath. His song comes out proud and exultant, tinged by sadness and grief and uncaring of any unwelcome attention it might bring. Anton deserved this moment.

  "I thought I heard the old man say,
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her...""  
RandomWombat
As Kellon begins to sing, Gweyir joins in. Though her time with the pirate hunters had been short, such shanties were commonplace on the wind and the waves. The first few verses Sokol only listens, but as the chorus comes around again he joins in, lending his deep rumbling voice to the harmonies.

Only Spider does not really sing, only swaying on its perch above to the tune of the song. Above Spider's web, the falling of the moon and the return of day sees the clouds ascend, shrouding the sun as it rises. A tide of white, a wall like the Mist itself chasing the colors of daybreak and replacing them with dreary filtered light that casts all in a somber tone.

As the shanty comes to a close, Kellon happens to look up. Atop the cliffs of the valley, far above them, is a skeletal figure on a horse of pale pearlescent bone. In one hand a tall shield of wood and tarnished bronze, in the other a polearm hanging beneath view. The figure seems to regard them for but a moment, before it turns its horse and gallops out of view. Death itself, come to preside over the funeral? Or just another of Barovia's macabre sights?

Whatever the answer, their rest has waited till morning. Perhaps for the best, the light of day chasing the nocturnal predators to their nests, lairs and burrows. With a deep sigh, Gweyir slumps down and gathers together some grass into a pile as a makeshift pillow, lying down upon the dirt. Sokol begins to pace the campsight idly, twirling a branch in his hands. Spider is curled up above upon its web, perhaps already rocked to sleep by their funerary lullaby.
Prehysterical
Of course this godsforsaken land can't allow a single moment of the sun shining... At least the stars got their fair time. The horseman is a puzzle, but one that likely won't rear its ugly head for a while. Right now, all the problems of the world could hold for just a couple of hours.

Kellon retreats into his shell atop Anton's grave. Hopefully, a quarter ton of tortle will help firm the dirt and safeguard the corpse of the hero within.
RandomWombat
Under the lukewarm light of a shrouded sun, Kellon slumbers in his shell.

 
 Spoiler: Long Rest 
The party's long rest is completed without interruption, and they recover from their wounds.
 


By the time he wakes once more, Kellon stirs to noonday light, hanging high above behind the clouds. Sokol is standing at the edge of camp, watching the woods, and Gweyir has already risen from her meditation. There are a few bats hanging above in the webbing, wrapped up and drained to jerky by Spider.

Gweyir sets a wooden bowl from the house down in front of Kellon, trail rations inside mixed with a few freshly picked berries.   "Picked a few from nearby. A little tart, but good to eat."  
 "Seen some things moving,"  Sokol comments.  "Never come close, but watching. Look human, or human-shape at least. I'd watch our backs wherever we going from here." 
Prehysterical
Kellon chuckles in good humor at Gweyir's thoughtfulness.  "I'll take anything that can make it a little more appealing!" 

As Sokol expresses his concerns, Kellon swallows and suggests,  "Well, if they are sticking close to us like fish to a shark's tail, we might as well nip that jellyfish in its head. But let me get some fuel in the old furnace here. There's something else needs doing before we can leave today." 

Once Kellon finishes his breakfast, he stands and finds a rock to stand on. He closes his eyes and opens his other senses, smelling the forest and the earth and the open sky, the moisture in the air. Gods, how he had missed this in that foul den of evil! If anything, Kellon feels like his connection to the elements is even stronger than before. Like the tide going out and coming in on a beach, Kellon allows the flow to weave through him.

Finally reattuned to the elements, Kellon asks for a pair of copper coins. They should have been placed atop Anton's eyes before his burial, but they had neither the power or time to do this properly. Hopefully, this would be enough. Kellon does what he can by burying the coins at the base of the cairn and sprinkling some salt over the grave marker. The prayer he recites over the grave seems almost chaotic and whimsical, but the fluctuating sounds and inconsistent stresses on syllables are dead giveaways for anyone with the ear for the Primordial tongue of the Planes.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon performs a Ritual casting of Gentle Repose over the grave of Anton.
 
RandomWombat
Sokol pulls out the old pockets of his ratty jacket and finds a couple copper pieces, turning them over to Kellon. As he digs down and buries the coins, performing a prayer over them, Gweyir watches with interest. When he finishes, Kellon and feel a hum of magic sink into the earth.

  "Keeping him fresh until we find a way to revive him,"   she says, part speculation but mostly for Sokol's benefit.   "That should extend the window to two thirds of a month."  
 "If only the Dursts thought to use the same magic, perhaps I would not smell so bad, ay?"  Sokol jokes, making a motion of sniffing his armpits.  "I assume. To be perfectly honest, the smell of rotting flesh is disconcertingly appetizing these days. But worry not! Sokol Twiceborn is no man of feeble will." 

Gweyir looks up at him, half amused and half concerned.   "Alright. If you say so."  

From up on its perch, Spider descends on a strand of web, landing beside Kellon.  "Where are we going today? It's super nice to be outside again! I wish Anton was here to see it." 
 "If I may beg a favor,"  Sokol holds up his hand, with a silver ring around his ring finger. With some difficulty, he slides the ring off of his rotten flesh and holds it in his palm.  "Unless many many years have passed, my wife and my daughter may still live in the village. Would like this returned to them, but ah."  He rubs the back of his head through his hood.  "Prefer them not to see me like this, yes. If someone could be kind and give this to my wife, Mary? Maybe tell my daughter, Gertruda, that I died a heroic death slaying a vampire spawn of the devil Strahd or something otherwise more glamorous than the truth, hm?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon chooses not to correct Gweyir, but revival was not his intent. Even if by some miracle they found a way to bring back Anton and not some puppeteered corpse, there was still the problem of Anton missing an arm. The tortle was more concerned with ensuring that Anton would receive proper rest and not be raised as some foul undead in a twisted form of irony.

He regards Sokol curiously as the zombie makes his request.  "I would be willing to, but there is the major problem that we are all outsiders. You, of all people, should know how outlanders are viewed in the village."  Kellon steps forward and accepts the ring.

 "We could spin a story about how you went down swinging against a squad of skeletons and a shambling monster, but there is one thing to consider: what if your paths cross again, however unlikely that may be? How are you going to explain your undeath then? I know that it would likely be hard for your family to see you like this, but don't they deserve to know that you still love them and think about them? Doesn't your daughter deserve to know that her father, even as a zombie, is still fighting the good fight against evil? It seems that hope is lacking in these lands, Sokol Twiceborn, and though you may not feel like it, you carry that hope forward... even if it's through luck." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+3)[ 15 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "Ah, they will get used to you in time,"  Sokol waves off Kellon's concern with his now unadorned hand.  "The ones that  matter ? In this sad land, they remember kindnesses. Repay in kind."  He looks away as Kellon works to convince him to return in the flesh, unliving though it may be. It is the first time since his 'rescue' that his dead grin twists down into a grimace.

 "And if she finds another man, finds new love? Who am I to deny that, to bring the sorrow of my face to her doorstep. Ack, but you are not wrong, my friend, and I cannot know for sure. If you believe true that I should, I shall go." 

Gweyir's ears twitch and she turns towards the trees. Spider, too, has heard something and spins to face it. She points out among the bushes, shapes that have moved through them silently and now loom around the campsite.   "Blights. Not friendly."  

Shapes in the shrubbery and in the shadows of the wood stand in near-human forms, with gangly stances and empty mockeries of faces. One of the smaller ones, woody and covered in twigs, tilts its head slightly with a wooden creak as it is spotted. A taller one with needles and thorns adorning its back and arms bristles threateningly.
Prehysterical
The heartfelt moment is washed away on the tide as Gweyir alerts the party to the encroachment of their hidden watchers. Kellon does not know much about these things. Perhaps they are territorial?

He wagers that these creatures don't speak Common, but maybe gestures would serve just as well... Keeping his movements slow, Kellon grabs the alchemy jug and the wooden bowl. He pours fresh water into the bowl and sets the jug aside. Kellon steps toward the blights, making a show of taking a sip from the bowl of pure water. With a little water still dripping out of the corners of his beak, Kellon offers the bowl to the larger blight.
RandomWombat
The heads of the creatures nearby turn as Kellon moves, as if watching him. The one he holds the bowl out towards does not look at the bowl, but a few puffs of tiny dust like particles shoot out of small porous holes in its sides, hanging in the air and dancing around. As though on order, one of the smaller ones takes creaking steps towards Kellon and plucks the bowl form his hand, returning it to the large one.

Taking up the bowl, the large one dips a finger in and swirls it around. Almost immediately it drops the bowl in what looks like disappointment and points an arm at Kellon. A spray of needles shoots out of its fist and clatter against his shell.

The small ones begin swarming towards them, on jerky, creaking limbs. It appears Gweyir and Sokol were prepared for things to go south, as they respond quickly. The druid's sword quickly separates the first of the little creatures to charge at her into two halves, which fall to the ground in a cloud of wood splinters.   "I'm pretty sure these things prefer to drink blood!"  

Sokol steps up next to the bushes, stabbing with his short sword through the chest of one of the ones on the edge. Its body begins to turn grey and lose motion, like petrified wood, as Sokol yanks his blade back out. He grabs one of them and bites it on the face with yellowed undead fangs, breaking off a chunk of the empty eye socket. He spits it out on the ground.  "Sap tastes like maple!"  Taking offense at his tasting, the creature digs its claws into his unfeeling legs and begins tearing at flesh.

Spider skitters up to Gweyir's side and bites at one of the twig monsters, but the creature grabs Spider's fangs and holds it at bay for now.

One of the creatures springs from the bushes and jumps up on Kellon's back, sinking its claws into his shoulders. It makes no shrieks or cries of savagery; its demeanor is only silent, focused purpose.

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Twig Blights A,B,C - 17
Gweyir - 16
Spider - 15
Sokol - 15
Twig Blights D,E,F - 13
Kellon - 12
Needle Blight C - 12
Needle Blight A&amp;B - 10
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Needle Blight C shoots a needle spray at Kellon, but misses.
Twig Blights A,B,C Dash forwards.

Gweyir slashes Twig Blight C for  9  damage, destroying it.
Sokol slashes Twig Blight D for  7  damage, destroying it. He bites Twig Blight E for  3 .
Spider bites at Twig Blight A, but misses.

Twig Blight E claws at Sokol, dealing  5  damage.
Twig Blight F claws at Kellon, dealing  2  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 
Prehysterical
Well, he tried... Kellon readies his warhammer with a familiar flourish and tries to repay the splinters with cracked bark.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon attacks Twig Blight F
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 15 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 7 ]  Bludgeoning
 
RandomWombat
The warhammer scatters the blight's body as easily as he would some bushes in his path. Its pieces fly against the cliff face as its lower body greys and locks in place, as if petrified. His victory is short lived, as a better aimed barrage of tiny stinging needles embeds itself in the side of his face, narrowly missing his eye.

A scattering of needles flicks along Spider's side, leaving a few stuck in the carapace. Swerving around the grasping claws of the twig blight in its way, Spider delivers a deadly bite through its eye sockets, the blight twitching and going still as its dead form petrifies. Spider scuttles away, to confront the creature needling it from afar.

Gweyir circles around the twig blight in her way, taking a swipe along her side as she moves towards a needle blight peppering her with painful stings along her arm. She slashes her blade across the larger blight, leaving a sap-leaking wound across its torso. It seems to feel no pain, standing as still and calm as ever in spite of the damage.

Grabbing onto the twig blight beside him with his free hand, Sokol grabs onto its 'throat' with his teeth and rips it apart, then tosses it aside as he strides up next to Gweyir. With his blade, he stabs the needle blight through its core, exposed by her deep cut, and it begins hardening into a dead state.

A far cry from their struggles beneath the cursed house, the group cuts through the woodland horrors with ease, scything through them as a farmer cuts down grain.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon strikes Twig Blight for  7  damage, destroying it.

Needle Blight C fires a needle spray at Kellon, hitting for  8  damage.
Needle Blight A fires a needle spray at Spider, hitting for  3  damage.
Needle Blight B fires a needle spray at Gweyir, hitting for  6  damage.
Twig Blight A claws at Spider, but misses.
Twig Blight B claws at Gweyir, dealing  3  damage.

Gweyir slashes Needle Blight B, dealing  8  damage.
Spider bites Twig Blight A, dealing  4  damage and destroying it.
Sokol bites Twig Blight E, dealing  3  damage and destroying it. He slashes Needle Blight B for  4  damage, destroying it as well.

It is Kellon's turn!
 
Prehysterical
Kellon cries out in pain at the stinging needles.  "Spit in my eye, why don't you, you bastard?"  The tortle whirls and swings at the bloodthirsty plant.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon attack Needle Blight C
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 21 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 6 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Stepping into the brush, Kellon pushes the branches aside and delivers a heavy blow to the monster's torso. It bends backwards, with a new dent, but does not fall or go still. It lurches forwards and grabs at Kellon, scrabbling its razor claws against his shell, the barbs catching and sticking on its patterns ineffectually. The creature's head tilts to the side, as if confused by his sturdy hide.

Gweyir pulls the crossbow from her back with one hand, holding it out and pulling the trigger. With a thunk the bolt fires across the battlefield to spear through the needle blight's heartwood core. It twitches and then begins to lose its color, the bolt embedded in its chest. Sokol steps up beside her and cuts down the twig blight as he walks towards Spider and its foe. He grabs its body with his free hand and drags it behind.

Spider is less fortunate, as its opponent rakes barbed fingertips along its back, tearing at the arachnid's thick brown fuzz.  "Ow ow ow! Let go!"  Spider angrily bites back, digging its fangs into the blight's arm. Sickly grey lines begin to spread out from the wound like cobwebs.

Then Sokol tosses the other blight into it, and it falls to the ground, where it writhes and succumbs to its wounds, becoming trapped in a macabre tableau with the other creature.  "Haha! Still got it!" 
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes Needle Blight for  6  damage.

Needle Blight C claws at Kellon, but misses.
Needle Blight A claws at Spider, dealing  6  damage.

Gweyir fires her Light Crossbow at Needle Blight C, dealing  7  damage and destroying it.
Spider bites Needle Blight A, dealing  7  damage and  1  poison damage.
Sokol slashes Twig Blight B for  6  damage, destroying it. He uses his Interaction with an object to pick up its corpse, then tosses it at Needle Blight C as an improvised thrown weapon for  3  damage, destroying it.

Combat has ended.
 
Prehysterical
The crossbow bolt is a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. He rubs at the stinging pain of the needles in his snout.  "Is everyone all right? Anyone need healing?" 
RandomWombat
Gweyir takes a moment to reload the crossbow again for future quick use and slings it back onto her back.   "I'm fine, mostly. Nothing a short break later wouldn't fix."  
 "Right as rain, my friend." 
 "It hurts a little,"  complains Spider, crawling over towards Kellon.
Prehysterical
Kellon comforts Spider as if he were a small babe.  "I know, I know, little one. Here, I'll make it all better."  The tip of a claw gently presses on Spider's carapace and the morning light seems to shine just a bit brighter in response.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Cure Wounds:  (1d8+3)[ 5 ] 
 


He tries to pull the stinging needles out of his face, wincing at how close they came to his eye.  "Och, that smarts! Gods, it's like a sea urchin danced a jig on me! Gweyir, can I get some of that healing druidic balm of yours?" 
RandomWombat
There is a chittering sigh of relief as Spider's wounds heal, new fuzz growing in over the wounded patches.  "Much better now! Thank you!" 
  "Here, let me see. I'll need to pick them out first,"   walking over, Gweyir holds Kellon's head still with one hand and carefully plucks the needles out with the other. It's far from a pleasant process, even if necessary. At last, she lets go and nods.   "That should feel better,"   she says, magic in her words weaving into Kellon's wounds and mending the little stinging pinpricks.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Kellon is healed for  6 .
 
Prehysterical
There is still a bit of stinging from the scratches in his shoulders and the dull ache in his face, but Kellon feels much better as promised.  "Ah, thanks, lass. That was a nice shot, by the way. Honestly, I am surprised that the bloody thing even worked, since we found it on the first floor of that damned house."  To reflect on that point, Kellon pulls the heavy crossbow from his back and examines it. He had had the foresight to reclaim his driftwood crossbow from Anton before burial, just in case, but he hoped that the machine parts still worked.

  Poor lad... I wonder if he even got to fire the thing?  
RandomWombat
The crossbow looks old, its wood worn and long overdue for maintenance. But testing out the mechanisms finds them still functional. Gweyir's weapon is very similar. They could use a tune up, and possibly some new string and oiling before it jams or something snaps.

  "I'm not the best shot, but something just clicked,"   the druid comments, with a shrug.   "Just one of those moments where your body moves faster than your mind."  

Taking up the Durst sword again in place of the crossbow, Gweyir begins packing their things up.   "In any case, we should get moving before more find this place. Blights use communication pheromones, any more in the area will probably be drawn here by the cloud that one released."   She nods at the one in the bushes that she and Kellon took down.

The group could go two ways, from here; apart from wandering and exploring. To find Sokol's family in Barovia village, or to see Madame Eva across the river first.
Prehysterical
Placing his crossbow back onto his shell, Kellon recovers the wooden bowl and kicks what's left of the blight.  "Have half a mind to turn you into a bowl, you briar brat."  He takes the time to pour himself a whole bowl of water to drink before pouring a bowl for Spider. Kellon sets down the bowl and retrieves the Spear of Light from its duty as a lamppost, sighing as he looks around the campsite.  "Such a nice little spot, too... But town sounds better in the daytime than it did last night. Let us see if Sokol the Undying here can face his greatest challenge yet." 

As they begin making their way through the woods, Kellon seeks input from Gweyir.  "It's said that the Dursts owned a windmill outside of town... Do you think that would be a good burial spot for the children? Somewhere with open air and far away different than that awful prison." 
RandomWombat
Spider drinks gladly from the bowl, refreshing itself before the journey continues.

As they make their way out through the woods, retracing their steps, they can see the village of Barovia in the daylight now. The dark, black-blue shingles of the buildings paint it as a dreary picture against the rolling hills that somehow don't seem green enough to be called lush. To their right, they can see the road descend into the lowest part of the valley, where a stone bridge reaches across the river that nearly swept Gweyir away on their first steps into Barovia.

  "Right... we didn't have time to bury them, after Anton's,"   Gweyir nods, looking out to the west. There is no sign of the windmill immediately across the river, so it most be somewhere else west of Barovia village.

As they travel, Sokol has extracted his undershirt, ratty and motheaten, and begun wrapping it around his face into a makeshift mask to hide his appearance in towns.
Prehysterical
Kellon catches Sokol's attempt to make a mask for himself and takes pity on the man... er, zombie.  "Hold up."  He stops and digs through his pack, pulling out fabric in whatever tortle design would call a shirt.  "Might as well get you halfway presentable and the like for your visit,"  Kellon explains, handing Sokol the garment colored of deep sea blue.

While Sokol fiddles with it, Kellon confides in the others,  "I didn't want to mention this right before bed last night, but I saw someone watching us from the cliff above. Some rider... although, t'was hard to tell, but the horse appeared more bone than anything else. I have to imagine that we will see them again, so keep your eyes peeled." 
RandomWombat
 "Ah, such nice fabric,"  Sokol takes the tortle wrappings, more like sashes and scarves than a shirt. More ideal for his situation, anyways.  "I feel guilty dirtying it. Are you certain?"  He waits for confirmation, then begins wrapping it around his head to make himself more presentable.

When the subject of the rider comes up, Sokol speaks up again, this time with some insights.  "I know this one! Old Barovian ghost story."  He finishes his wrappings and pulls his hood back on overtop of it, concealing his appearance rather well - apart from the smell, which they could perhaps blame on him being a tanner or something.

 "Say he was an old soldier, tried to ride out from Barovia's borders. Lost in the Mist, he and his faithful steed perished. It is said they ride still, into death and beyond, seeking the exit to this dark land. Some say that to follow the bone rider will lead you to weal, others to woe. I've not encountered the fellow myself - until now! In my state, I confess I am less afeared and more curious if perhaps he is a kindred spirit." 
Prehysterical
Kellon waves a hand over his shell in response to Sokol's concern.  "This shell is all the cover I need, sailor. We tortles don't have the same sensitivities as you softskins do. 'Och, no, mine eyes doth spy a bared plastron in plain sight! Heavens!'"  He holds the back of a claw to his forehead in mocking of some noble mannerisms he heard while at port.

The tortle finds himself nodding with Sokol's explanation.  "Well, if he sought so desperately to leave these lands, he couldn't have been all that bad. When I seek to purge the Mist from this cursed land, he might have some valuable insight." 
RandomWombat
 "No clue what a plastron is, my friend,"  Sokol holds up his arms in a shrug.

As they talk, they arrive at the outskirts of the village once again. This time they're on the opposite end of the village, near the graveyard. A fence of wrought iron with a rusty gate encloses a rectangular plot of land behind s dilapidated church. Tightly packed gravestones shrouded by morning fog bear the names of souls long passed. All seems quiet and peaceful, in spite of the somber atmosphere that surrounds the place by its nature.

And as for the old church itself... Atop a slight rise stands a gray, sagging edifice of stone and wood. This church has obviously weathered the assaults of evil for centuries on end and is worn and weary. A bell tower rises toward the back with the solar symbol of the Morninglord perched above it in inglorious old green-stained copper. Flickering light shines through holes in the shingled roof.
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head sadly at the sight of the church.  "It seems that the worship of Lathander in these lands is less a praise of their god and more a child hiding under a blanket, hoping that the monsters will go away."  Wear and tear can sometimes be worn with pride, but the neglect is clear.

As they approach the settlement, Kellon instructs Spider,  "Stay close to me, little one. If we got strange looks, I fear they will be less than kind to you." 
RandomWombat
 "Okay, Kellon! I'll follow super close,"  Spider crawls along behind as they approach the streets of the village. Past the church, Kellon can see the people moving to and fro, slowly and ponderously. As though wandering through a dream.

 "My home was near the general store, down in the middle of the village." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
You may move Kellon's left token around on the town map to where you wish to explore.
Mary's Townhouse is E3 on the map.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon begins following the road from the church down to the town, going slowly through the first intersection to get the lay of the town. He might as well become familiar with this place, since they will likely be stuck here for a while.
RandomWombat
As their strange assortment make their way into the village, the Barovians turn and glare at them in a mixture of hostility and fear. Anyone on the street quickly takes another direction, or stops and stares until they pass. Down the street to their left, an astonishingly ugly old woman is hobbling down the street with a cart behind her, covered with cloth. She is going up to the doors of homes and knocking. Often she is ignored and goes on to the next one; when they answer, she seems to be peddling some kind of small sweets.

Ahead down the main street, the smell of cooking food and the sound of tavern music wafts on the breeze. A familiar scent and sound to any sailor who's taken shore leave.
Prehysterical
Rather than shying from scrutiny, Kellon stares right back at anyone who gives them the stinkeye. He's rather tired of being treated like a hungry shark. His mind directs them down the main street toward their objective, but his feet seem to almost move of their own accord toward the smell and music. There's no plan to stop at the tavern during their visit, but it's nice to have one speck of normalcy in this dreary settlement.
RandomWombat
A single shaft of familiarity thrusts illumination into the main square, its brightness looking like a solid pillar in this strange land. A tavern, tall and wide, once finely appointed but now as worn and tired as all else in this place. Above the gaping doorway, a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the 'Blood of the Vine' tavern. Someone has come along and scratched at the sign, an attempt at defacing it to read 'Blood on the Vine'. (E2)

The main square stretches out in front of the tavern, such as it is. Wider than the rest of the streets, children run to and fro, but are quickly pulled aside by parents and guided away from the outsiders. Further south across the square from the tavern is another larger building, this one clearly better cared for than the rest of this town. A sign over the door, swinging in the wind above the street, reads 'Bildrath's Mercantile'. (E1)
Prehysterical
Looking down the street past the mercantile, Kellon looks for Sokol's family home.  "We should be getting close, yes? Do you want us to introduce ourselves first, or do you think you should be the first to speak?" 
RandomWombat
Down they go past the mercantile, reaching the outside of an old run-down two story townhouse. The windows are boarded up from the inside.  "Well that doesn't look too promising,"  Sokol looks upon the sad little house.

To make matters worse, from the cracked and boarded windows of the second story, quiet sobs flow down, seeping into the cold, grey streets. Sokol steps towards the house and tries the door, finding it unlocked - but as he pushes it inwards, it is jammed shut by a chair propped against the door from the inside.
Prehysterical
Solok himself had admitted that he knew not how long he had been down in the the cult's shrine, but there seemed something just plain wrong about what was going on...

Things are worrying enough that Kellon steps forward and puts his shoulder into the door. Someone might need their help.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Strength check:  (1d20+4)[ 7 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The door doesn't budge to his shoulder, so Sokol joins in, worry plain in his dead eyes as he sets his shoulder against the door and pushes along with Kellon. People in the street see them and start to whisper and drift away, seeming to sense trouble. Even with the two of them they can't make the door budge.

 "Alright, back off and go in together,"  Sokol says, pulling back and preparing to ram the door again as a team.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Sokol failed his attempt as well. He will Help with the next try, giving Kellon Advantage.
 
Prehysterical
 "One, two, three!"  On Kellon's count, the pair put their combined weight into the door.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Strength check:  (1d20+4)[ 8 ] 
 (1d20+4)[ 8 ] 

Wow... Seriously, those are some awful odds (or in this case, I suppose I should say evens).
 
RandomWombat
Even against their combined weight, the door holds.  "Blasted chair! Why does the carpenter in this town have to make  one  good piece of furniture,"  Sokol curses.

  "Here, let me try something else,"   Gweyir goes up to one of the windows and examines it.   "Spider, can you help me jiggle this open?"  

With Spider's tools, they fiddle with the window's lock and pop it open. The other side is boarded up with wooden planks, which seem to have been pulled up from the floor inside. But not completely, or even very thoroughly. Gweyir reaches her arm through one of the gaps and grows a magical vine down along her forearm, which lashes out. It wraps around the leg of the chair propped against the door and she yanks, pulling it free.

Sokol quickly enters, pushing the chair aside. The townhouse is missing pried up floorboards. A small wood burning stove, a double bed, some shelves and a chamberpot tucked underneath the stairs are its scarce furnishings. Steep wooden stairs lead up to a door into a short attic half-room.
Prehysterical
Kellon enters behind Sokol, taking in the sad state of the house. He looks to Solok and gives some minor encouragement.  "Lead on, shipmate. It's your house. I'll be right behind you." 
RandomWombat
Sokol nods, Spider and Gweyir walking in. Gweyir closes the door behind them, to shut out the peeping townsfolk.

The undead Barovian steps carefully up the wooden stairs, which prove steadier than they look. He opens the door. Inside is a child's room, as sparsely furnished as the rest of the house. A few small cracked windows are boarded up, and a cushioned cot is laid out on the floor. A nightstand beside it has a small drawer inside for clothing.

An older woman with a few spots of gray in her hair, dressed in a simple cloth dress and hood, is huddled upon the cot crying. She clutches a small doll with a malformed face and strange leer, wearing a sack cloth dress.

 "Mary,"  Sokol rushes to her side, kneeling down on the floor. She seems to barely recognize anyone's presence in the room, but her eyes blink with recognition when she hears his voice. She remains staring ahead at the wall.

 "Sokol... is that you?" 
 "It's me, Mary,"  he slips the hood back over her head, a green hairband adorning her hair. The sole piece of color decorating her outfit.  "Mary, what happened?" 
 "Gertruda... Gertruda... I lost her..."  the woman's voice is weak and filled with sorrow.  "I lost you both.... are you here... to take me to the grave?" 
Prehysterical
It seems in poor taste to intrude on a family, but they need answers. Kellon asks the woman in a low voice,  "Mary, what do you mean you 'lost' Gertruda? Why did you bar the door shut?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Insight check on the doll:  (1d20+5)[ 23 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Mary sniffs back her tears, but still doesn't look up.  "After... after my Sokol disappeared, I kept her safe. Kept her safe, always safe... kept the windows closed. Kept the house locked. Then..."  a sob breaks up her explanation and she has to pause to collect herself again.  "One morning, I just... I woke up and she was gone. I didn't know what to do, I looked and looked and then... I just wanted to be alone."  She sets her face down against her knees in front of her.

Sokol gently rubs her back.  "I'll find her, Mary. But you need to take care of yourself while I am gone."  She doesn't say anything more, besides sobbing into her knees.

 
 Spoiler: Doll 
The doll radiates a very cursed energy - not cursed in the sense of magic, but cursed in the sense that it carries a certain... disquiet. There is a tag on the doll that proudly declares it to be a Blinksy Toy. "Is No Fun, Is No Blinksy!"
 
Prehysterical
At a loss, Kellon taps on Sokol's shoulder with a claw. He offers one of their few remaining rations and his own waterskin, tilting his head to indicate Mary.

Kellon steps away a little and converses with Sokol.  "What do you think? Do you think she ran away, or was she taken? Is there anywhere that she might go?" 
RandomWombat
The man accepts them, and tries to get Mary to take them. Gently, he lifts her head from its place held against her knees and helps her take a sip from the waterskin, first.  "Easy, love. Slowly." 

He turns his head to regard Kellon out of the corner of his eye.  "I don't know, friend. She were but a little girl last I knew her... Mary, how many years has it been?" 
 "... Ten? Eleven?"  she speaks weakly, accepting some of the dry bits of rations and reluctantly tilting them from her hand into her mouth.

 "Ten years... my girl has to be thirteen or fourteen, now. I do not know... if she was taken, or where she would go. We will need to ask."  Sokol stands up into a hunched position under the low roof, leaving some of the rations on the night stand next to Mary and helping her take another drink of water.  "Or maybe I should stay here with her... for now, at least. Get her cleaned up. Do you think that you could ask around for me?"  he turns and looks at Kellon.
Prehysterical
Ten years... No wonder she was such a wreck. After giving a moment of thought, Kellon nods.  "Aye, you should stay. I'll head down to the tavern and see if I can find out anything. Be the best place to start, far as I can tell."  Another thought occurs to him and he hands Sokol his wedding ring and a signal whistle.  "If there's any trouble, just sound this and I'll come running like a sailor on shore leave. Take as long as you need." 
RandomWombat
 "Alright... and Mary, how long has Gertruda been gone?"  Sokol asks, as he accepts the whistle and the ring.

 "Is it... three days now?"  she ponders. Just around the time the Mists rolled in, and Kellon and Gweyir arrived at the Death House. No wonder she couldn't find the girl, if the Mists were cloistering the town for all that time.

Leaving Sokol to comfort his wife, Kellon rejoins the others below and they begin making their way back to the main square. There don't appear to have been any town guards called on them - if this place even has anything like a guard force, besides their hunters. The three of them arrive outside of the tavern, a wooden walkway with a few patched holes leading up to the raised ground it sits upon.
Prehysterical
Before they reach the tavern, Kellon briefs Gweyir on the situation. Too bad they were in town, otherwise Kellon would have tried examining the dirt road to see if he could pick up the girl's tracks.

As they approach the tavern, Kellon mentally braces himself for the suspicious looks he is sure to get within the walls. He makes for the doors.
RandomWombat
  "Poor guy just can't catch a break,"   Gweyir whispers, looking back behind them at Sokol's old house as they make their way up the street. Spider seems mostly oblivious to the situation.

 "Why is the smelly man's mate sad?" 

As they arrive at the tavern door, Gweyir crouches down and explains to Spider,   "Their child is missing. We're going to look for clues to find her, okay? Maybe you can wait up on the roof for us and keep watch, okay? Let us know if any trouble is coming, and come if we whistle for you."  
 "Okay!"  Spider cheerfully chirps, crawling up the wall and onto the roof of the tavern, disappearing over the ridges.

  "That should keep any drunks from swinging on sight,"   the druid says as she stands up and joins Kellon stepping in. Flames from a number of covered torches on sconces lights up the room, providing scant warmth to the souls within. Even this early in the day, there are a few here already. Some eating simple soup, and some already partaking of drink. A dour looking man behind the counter perpetually cleans a glass with a rag.

To the left of the door, a troupe of more colorfully dressed folk are gathered. Their garb looks similar to the woman that Kellon saw outside walking the Mists. An older man is seated in a rocking chair, and a larger man on a bench closer to the door. In the center of a small stage is a woman playing a bandura while the two men sing in harmonies, providing song to the tavern.

 " The devil said, "Sit and have yourself a glass"

He said "I know you're angry right now, but the feelin' will pass

So keep your cup tipped up when you're feelin' down low

And when you finally forget your purpose,

You'll be stumblin' on down my side of the road " 

And lastly, there is a Barovian man of uncommonly fair hair sitting at a corner table dressed in fine dark clothes. He has an aura of confidence and a straight back, strong and set, compared to the sullen and dour expressions of those around him. As he sips wine from a wooden mug, he spots those entering.

Even as a few of the hunters from that first night in Barovia whisper amongst themselves and the Barovians give the new visitors their typical death glare - apart from the bartender, who regards them with passive disinterest - the fair haired man raises his hand in greeting.

  "Hail, outsiders. Come sit with me, if you please. The wine is on me."  
Prehysterical
 "Good call,"  Kellon compliments as Gweyir recommends that Spider take sanctuary on the roof.

In the same way that clouds obscure sunlight, a feeling of melancholy seems to pervade over any attempt at merriment in this place. The immediate hail raises suspicion in Kellon's mind, but it is a place to start, at least. Kellon moves to sit opposite of the upper crust Barovian, choosing to forgo the wine just this moment.  "And what prompts such charity, may I ask,"  he asks the man bluntly.  "Our welcome to this town has been as warm as a grave on winter's morn." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Insight on the man and whether drinking the wine is a good idea:  (1d20+5)[ 17 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Gweyir takes a seat next to Kellon at the table, fixing the man with the same appraising look the tortle is giving him. To call the man's expression a smile would be a stretch, but it is not the glare that affixes them when the others catch sight of them. And even the apparent association with the man is enough to make the other Barovians look away and turn back to their own business.

  "A need for able sword hands, and noble hearts,"   the man speaks, with clarity and purpose.   "Both rare qualities here, and rarer still found together. So when I heard outsiders were in the village, I knew to wait here - the place where all folk one day stumble in."   He nods towards the rest of the bar.

 
 Spoiler: Insight 
There is no nervousness in the man's voice, no hint of hesitation or thought in his words that would hint at a second meaning.
 

  "Able hands for what, exactly?"  

The man lowers his voice now, leaning closer over his mug and the table between them.   "I need to get my sister out of this village, and somewhere safe. A vampire, Strahd, has his eye on her. He has been possessed by some ill obsession, and has come to try and take her twice already now. He has declared his intent to take her as his bride, by his right as sovereign. But I will  not  allow it."   The man's face is set firmly as he states so. But he deflates a little afterwards as he admits,   "Yet I am but one man. And taking her from here is a gamble. The only thing keeping her safe now is that Strahd cannot enter our residence, and his monsters have not yet torn it down beyond recognition as such."  
Prehysterical
Kellon blinks a little in confusion. He picks up the wine glass and gives it a swirl while he collects his thoughts. After taking a sip, Kellon admits,  "We've heard about this Strahd fellow and I have no fondness for the man, but... The two of us here wound up in Barovia purely through a shipwreck. We know nothing about these lands and it seems like Strahd has spies everywhere. Where could we even take her? Hiding out in the woods is only going to work for so long before either he gets lucky or ours runs out."  Throughout his talk, Kellon does not sound dismissive of the idea. He seems more open to suggestions than anything.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Religion check on the limitations of vampires:  (1d20+1)[ 21 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Religion: Vampires 
It just so happens that stories of vampire pirates were not uncommon where Kellon was from. And through the years he has picked out myth from legend.

It is said that a brandished holy symbol or a clove of garlic can ward off a vampire. This is false - save in the hands of a cleric powerful enough to Turn the vampire by their god's grace.
It is said that a vampire cannot enter a private residence without being invited in. This is true.
It is said that vampires hold certain strange obsessions, and that one can distract a vampire by spilling rice, such that it must count each grain before it resumes its pursuit. This is both true and false. Vampires are given to deep obsessions, and this trick surely worked with the vampire that originated the tale. But there is no telling yet what obsessions may plague Strahd or distract him from a quarry.
It is said that to plunge a stake through a vampire's heart will kill it. This is true. Vampires will eventually regenerate from harm unless they are slain through a stake to the heart while they are incapacitated.
It is said that running water will dissolve a vampire into dust, and this is true - more the reason why vampire pirates was such an odd notion.
It is said that sunlight burns a vampire, and this is true. It is one of their deepest weaknesses.
And, of course, vampires must drink blood. Should they fail to drink blood, they will starve, tire, and eventually enter an incapacitated and desiccated state. Though feeding such a vampire any blood will stir it from its stasis.

Finally, there is more than one kind of vampire. The spawn, forced to obey a master vampire, are far weaker than their sires and subject to all the normal weaknesses. A master vampire is far more powerful, a creature of old and dark magic.
 

  "I plan to take her to the town of Vallaki. It is said to be well guarded, and its church and burgomaster ward their walls against Strahd and his spawn using the bones of a saint."   The man takes out a map and unfolds it on the table. It shows a road up around the cliffs, through some foothills, and to a town near a lake. It also has a windmill marked.
Prehysterical
 "Really? Huh. That I would like to see."  It seems like it would be a long trek... Kellon sits back and proposes,  "Tell you what, man, perhaps by helping us with a little something, we might help you. We are looking for a young girl. Gertruda, daughter of Mary. Her father went missing about ten or eleven years ago. Mary said that she disappeared three nights ago, around the time that the Mist showed up. You know anything about her or see her?" 
RandomWombat
Setting an elbow on the table, the fair haired man leans his chin upon his knuckle. A thoughtful consideration painted upon his face, he raps a single finger against the table with his other hand.   "Mary. I believe I know of her. The less charitable call her Mad Mary, for her paranoid demeanor. I never knew that she had a daughter, however."   Lowering his arm, he picks up the mug of wine again. He tilts it back and drains what little was left that he was nursing, then sets the mug on the table with an empty thud of wood on wood.

  "Still, I believe I can help. The people here are cautious of those they do not know, but I am the burgomaster's son - our village leader, whatever you may call them. I am confident I can get you some answers,"   he holds a hand across the table, to Kellon and Gweyir.   "Ismark Kolyanovich. Glad to meet you both this day."  
  "Gweyir, good to meet you,"   the druid introduces herself, shaking his hand.
Prehysterical
Kellon leans forward and gingerly clasps the man's hand in his claws to avoid pricking him.  "Kellon. So, when and where do we meet to discuss your findings? There are a few matter of ours that need tending to, so we cannot wait here at the tavern." 
RandomWombat
  "If you have other business, then I will gather what information I can and meet you at the burgomaster's residence,"   Ismark motions towards the door, in the direction of the street the Mercantile and Mary's townhouse are on.   "Follow the road south from the main square, and it is at the very end of that road. If I have not yet arrived and my sister refuses to let you inside, tell her that I sent you and slip this under the door."   Taking a scrap of parchment from his bag, the man writes a short note and folds it, handing it to Kellon.
Prehysterical
Kellon accepts the note with a nod.  "Once we find the girl, we'll help you move your sister. Any chance to put a leak in Strahd's boat is well worth, in my book."  Kellon stands back up, though not before gulping down the rest of the wine.
RandomWombat
  "Then I expect we will get along just fine,"   with a nod, Ismark stands from his seat as well.   "Good luck. And take care on the roads, if you venture outside the village."   After seeing them off, he goes to the bar to pay for the wine.

Gweyir turns around on the bench and stands.   "Where we off to now, then?"  
Prehysterical
Her question is answered by another question.  'While we're waiting for some answers, we can find some on our own. I think we should pay a visit to the soothsayer, see just how much she knows." 
RandomWombat
  "Oh yeah, the card lady. If she's a real fortune teller she might be able to give us a lead on the girl,"   Gweyir nods along. The two of them make their way outside and she whistles, calling Spider down from the roof.

The creaking sound of its legs announces its arrival, crawling over the lip of the door above Kellon. Then it jumps down to land in front of them, and turns around to face them.  "I didn't see any bad dangerous things,"  Spider reports.
Prehysterical
 "Good lad,"  Kellon praises. Looking again to Gweyir, he asks her,  "Do you think that we should leave Sokol here with his wife? Or do you think that we will need the help too much?" 
RandomWombat
Spider seems happy at the praise, following along at Kellon's heel like a ship's mouser drunk on attention.   "I think we should be able to handle it, as long as we return before dark,"   Gweyir answers, stepping down from the wooden platform outside of the tavern.
Prehysterical
 "All right. We should tell him where we're going before we leave. Don't want the poor soul to think we've abandoned him. Might as well tell him that we're waiting on answers, too." 
RandomWombat
With a trip to Mary's townhouse, the crew finds Sokol has moved her downstairs and sat her on her own bed. He has her eating on her own now, at least.  "Have you found any news?"  he asks, coming over to meet them at the door in case it is bad news.

Gweyir shakes her head,   "We haven't learned anything yet, but we got some help from a guy named Ismark. Said he's your burgomaster's son?"  
 "Aha. I remember him as a youth, very good man,"  Sokol nods, a slightly hopeful smile to his eyes behind his cloth wrappings.  "We can trust him, I think. Thank you." 
Prehysterical
Any improvement in Mary's condition at this point is to be celebrated.  "He said he would ask around, see if anyone saw or heard anything about Gertruda. It will take some time, though. In the meantime, we will be heading out of town to see this Madame that haunts our steps. We were expecting that you would want to stay here, batten down the hatches as you like." 
RandomWombat
 "Aye, that sounds for the best,"  Sokol nods, glancing back at Mary, who is looking at the floor and eating a few bits of trail mix from her hand at a time.  "Be careful among the Vistani. Not all are bad, but many are spies for the devil Strahd." 
Prehysterical
Kellon blinks at Sokol's warning.  "...That would be a lot easier if we knew who the Vistani are, Sokol. Don't forget, we're not from here." 
RandomWombat
 "Ah, my apologies!"  the man puts a hand to his head, but can't bring himself to give his characteristic laugh in the situation.  "The travelers in colorful clothes, you see. They live in their camps outside of the towns and villages. It is said that their pacts with Strahd allow them to walk the Mists safely." 
Prehysterical
 "Hmmm... I think we saw one of them when we were trapped in the Durst house a few days ago. That explains some things.

Right, well, if we're going to be back before dark, these old sealegs need to be patting down dirt. We should be off, then. Stay safe." 
RandomWombat
 "You as well, my friends,"  Sokol reaches out and pats Kellon and Gweyir on the shoulders, then waves to Spider as they make their way out.

On their way they go, traversing the worn streets of Barovia. The morning fog - a more natural element than the cursed Mists - has finally begun to part as the sun arcs upwards in the sky. Its warmth struggles to meet the land below, and the wind is chill.

The old road awaits. Its dirt path winds down between hills and farms, to the river crossing below. Gweyir walks beside Kellon, with Spider at their heels just behind. At a few points the arachnid briefly vanishes, then returns silently with some small bird or rodent carried in its fangs. Again Kellon is reminded of the mousers upon many ships, depositing their prey at the masters' feet.

As they approach their side of the bridge, Gweyir holds up a hand and points, drawing her sword.   "Someone in hiding, pointing a crossbow at us. Show yourselves!"   she calls out. She is answered by the sound of a dog barking. A slightly rotund Barovian man steps out of the woods across the bridge. Kellon can see a few others in hiding off to the side. Two with crossbows, and a few armed with only pitchforks.

The man holds up an empty hand, the other holding onto the dog's leash as it snarls, eyes locked on Spider. At his waist is a shortsword in its sheath, and he carries a worn old crossbow on his back.  "Easy, easy. Down, girl."  At his urging the dog shuts up and sits down next to him.

  "Why are you hiding with bows trained on us?"   Gweyir demands.

 "We saw you coming... were just going to hide until you passed,"  the man says apologetically, motioning for the hunters to lower their bows.  "The roads are dangerous. We were only being careful." 
Prehysterical
Kellon finds himself thankful for the elf's sharp eyes. He looks at the man curiously.  "Seems very trusting on your part,"  Kellon snarks.  "I was under the impression that we were... what were those words? 'Duskies and mongrelfolk'?

People keep telling us that the roads are dangerous, but what makes them so dangerous? The undead? Bandits? Blights? Or something else?" 
RandomWombat
 "No point hiding now we're already spotted,"  the round man says, though when he lowers his empty hand he does rest it near his sword's pommel.  "S'why we were hiding, you are... unusual."  He chooses his words carefully, clearly trying actively not to offend and draw their ire.

 "Undead, bandits, blights, and worse,"  one of the hunters off to the side of the bridge speaks up.  "Some folks've disappeared recently. Little girl and a couple others. We are out searching for them." 
 "Don't suppose you have seen any of them?"  the round man asks.
Prehysterical
Kellon scratches his throat wattle in thought.  "Haven't seen anyone out on the road or in the woods during our time here. As it so happens, we are looking for someone, as well. A girl named Gertruda, about thirteen or fourteen summers old. She went missing about three days ago. Seen anyone like that come from the village behind us?" 
RandomWombat
 "That's the one,"  the hunter holds up a finger.  "Gertruda. Mother sick to death with worry." 
 "Sorry to say we have had no luck either,"  the round man answers sadly. He pats the dog on the head and scratches her behind the ear.  "Tsymbaly here caught her scent for a while. But we lost the trail at the river."  He shakes his head.  "May have tried swimming, got washed away. We have been following the river to look for her on the banks." 
Prehysterical
 "Hmmm... Maybe we can help. Tortles are no strangers to water and Gweyir here is a druid. If you look on one side and we look on the other, we might be able to find something,"  Kellon proposes.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Survival check:  (1d20+5)[ 21 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The hunters look to the round man for guidance. He rubs his soft chin and nods,  "Alright. We are going downstream here, already searched upstream."  He points north along the river. The Barovian scouts begin making their way down along the banks.

Gweyir and Spider follow Kellon on the opposite side, both search parties within view of one another. The river. The noble's dog sniffs at the edge of the water as they go, but doesn't pick up on anything.

 
 Spoiler: Survival 
Kellon searches along the banks, but finds no evidence of anyone crawling out or washing up and being dragged away so far.
 


As they go along, there is a loud caw. Kellon looks up, and there is a lone raven sitting in one of the trees across the water, seemingly watching them. The villagers pay it little mind as they continue their search.
Prehysterical
Spying the raven, Kellon catches Gweyir's attention and subtly points out the bird to her.  "What do you think,"  he asks in a low voice.  "A little too interested for simple curiosity?" 
RandomWombat
  "It does seem a little strange,"   she looks up at the bird out of the corner of her eye.   "Do you want me to scare it off?"  
Prehysterical
 "Well, can you talk to it,"  Kellon asks uncertainly.  "I was always told that druids can talk to animals. Might also help to tell if it's wild or belongs to someone." 
RandomWombat
  "I could, but I haven't prepared that kind of magic. The best I can do is charm it to be friendly,"   Gweyir steps back, closer to the raven, and its intelligent eyes follow her.
Prehysterical
In an effort to make the whole thing look less conspicuous (or more paranoid, depending on perspective), Kellon continues following the river. His attention is not truly focused on the ground, though, as he tries to hide his attempts to watch Gweyir and the raven... which only makes him look more twitchy and suspicious.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Don't know if this needs a Deception check, but anyway:  (1d20+1)[ 6 ] 
 
RandomWombat
As the search party begins to move further up the river, the raven takes off - and then lands further ahead, keeping pace with them. Gweyir watches it and walks back up to Kellon.   "Well, if there were any doubt it was following us."  
Prehysterical
He merely gives a weary sigh. It feels like there's nothing they can really do about it. Even if they could, was it truly worth the effort just based off of an assumption that the bird is in service to Strahd? If it wasn't on the other side of the river, Kellon would be tempted to tell Spider to grab a feathered snack. As it is, Kellon relents.  "I guess we'll find out sooner or later what master it serves. I would pray that the bird serves some benevolent master, but hot air and hollow prayers only feed a gathering storm." 
RandomWombat
Without much to do about the bird, the two search parties carry on their search down the river. But alas, there is no luck in their search. They reach the point where the river flows into a wider lake, with no sign of the girl or any of the other missing persons.

There is an audible sigh from the other side of the river as the noble steps into view again.  "Still no sign of the girl on this side. What about you?"  Gweyir shakes her head, and the man scratches his dog behind the ear.  "Well... I'm afraid it would be too dangerous for us to go poking further from the village, just end up with more missing. We're going to head back to the bridge, and keep looking for the other folks." 
Prehysterical
 "Be careful when you go back,"  Kellon tells the man.  "It felt like we were being watched on our way down. Make sure you don't run into some sort of ambush on the way back." 

Sighing, Kellon turns to Gweyir.  "Well, that was a waste of time. Since we're out here, we should making our way to the madame's place before dark."  That reminds him to ask the leader of the search party,  "We're looking for a woman named Madame Eva. Do you know where she lives? All we know is that she lives on this side of the bridge." 
RandomWombat
 "Watched by what?"  the round man asks, looking around nervously.

  "Some raven, I think."  

Oddly, Gweyir's answer seems to assuage some of his worry and he wipes his forehead.  "Ah. No fear, then. Ravens are a sign of fortune, outsiders. The very first angel of the Morninglord to grace this land took the form of a raven."  He turns and begins to trudge back the way they came, with the rest of their search party.

 "Madame Eva... down that way,"  he nods his head behind him.  "Follow the lake edge, you'll find the camp. Mind yourself round them though. Snake oil salesmen and agents of the devil Strahd." 
Prehysterical
Kellon throws a skeptical look Gweyir's way. Since when did blackbirds serve as agents of a sun god?
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Religion to fact-check this:  (1d20+1)[ 8 ] 
 

 "Sounds like Madame Eva is one of the Vistani. No friend of vampires, she is. Let's go make a social call. Perhaps she can explain about these cards from the house." 
RandomWombat
The two of them have little issue crossing the river here, where the flow calms as it transitions into the lake. Spider simply sticks a web to another tree on the other side and swings across. The beach of the lake is soggy, muddy, and not so warm and pleasant as the ocean beaches Kellon knows.

 
 Spoiler: Religion 
Kellon has never heard of such a thing. The only god that ravens have ever been considered a symbol of is the so-named Raven Queen, a goddess of shadows and death. Not an  evil  god, exactly. But no Morninglord.
 


The woods along the riverside start to thin, and ahead Kellon can see a gathering of wooden wagons, horses, colorful tents, and colorful inhabitants. The mournful strains of an accordion clash with the singing of several of the brightly clad figures around a pair of bonfires. A footpath continues beyond this encampment, meandering north between the river and the forest's edge.
Prehysterical
To Kellon's eyes, this place seems far more welcoming than the run-down settlement they left behind. They approach the settlement, eyes peeled for the woman who would likely recognize them at first glance.
RandomWombat
There is no sign of any woman who recognizes them, though one of the men spies them coming down the lakeside and hollers to the others. Though there's a few glances their way, there are none of the death glares of the Barovians, and the nomad folk simply return to their business.

Several tents stand around the encampment. The largest of them stands near where the crew arrives in the camp, lamplight inside glowing through its sagging cloth walls, which flap in the cool wind off the water.

One of the men, leaning on what looks like a great butter churn next to one of their wagons, waves at the newcomers when they come into view.  "What this then, huh? Visitors in quiet Barovia?"  His eyes fall on Spider, curiosity in his eyes as he quirks a brow.  "Odd choice of pets, but who am I to judge?" 

Spider raises a mandible in greeting.  "Hey there! I'm Spider. Who are you?" 
  "I'm a druid,"   Gweyir explains, as if it explains away everything about their arachnid companion. But the man seems to accept it with a casual shrug.

 "If you say so! You can call me H'dirus. Might I interest you in some of our exotic wares? From across Barovia and beyond!" 
Prehysterical
Kellon has never been fond of the old merchant's pitch. He waves off the offer of sale.  "We're here on business. Where can we find Madame Eva? We received an invitation from her." 
RandomWombat
 "Guests of the Madame? Of course, welcome,"  H'dirus performs a short bow from his stance leaning against the churn.  "You happen to be standing right outside of her tent. Please, be our guest and go on in." 
Prehysterical
 "Huh... Well, that was easy,"  Kellon mutters as he turns to enter the tent. He has gotten used to difficulty by this point.
RandomWombat
The tent flaps pull aside easily. Inside, Kellon sees that the light glowing inside is not from a lamp, but several candles throughout the room, lit with red flame that casts the room in a warm, but unfamiliar light. Revealed within is a low table covered in a black velvet cloth. Glints of light seem to flash from a crystal ball on the table as a hunched figure peers into its depths. As the crone speaks, her voice crackles like dry weeds.  "At last you have arrived!"  Cackling laughter bursts like mad lightning from her withered lips. Her garb is colorful, purples and reds wrapped around her in many layered shawls, decorated with handwoven patterns.

The crone is seated upon a cushion on the floor, with a wider one across from her at the table. Her tent is sparsely furnished otherwise. There is a cloth bed laid out upon the black and white rug that separates their feet from the cold earth, and a few potted plants liven up the interior.

 "From the watery grave, and from the forsaken depths of Avernum. The Mother's stars guide to me stranger company each passing year,"  her eyes glitter in the glow of the red candles.  "Surviving the House of Death, this was only the first of many trials that fate has laid before you. I have seen it in the cards,"  she withdraws an old deck of cards from beneath her table, worn and frayed by the years, and begins to shuffle it.

  "You invited us here, something about being able to help?"  
 "It is not my place to help, only to show,"  the Madame's hands move autonomously, without the need to look or to take care in her shuffling.  "You are lost. The Mother may offer a path... will that path help? That is for you to decide. So, will you allow me to read your fortune?" 
Prehysterical
Reluctantly, Kellon takes a seat on the wide cushion. He himself does not place great stock in talk of fate and destiny, but some of the tales surrounding Poseidon include mentions of such things.  "When you say 'fate' has laid these tests for us, is that another word for Strahd? From what we understand, he's the reason that we are here in the first place." 
RandomWombat
Gweyir walks around the other side of the cushion, taking a seat beside Kellon. On his other side, Spider crawls in and curls up on the floor.  "Is your mother here?" 
 "Not only my Mother, little one,"  the crone's voice croaks in response.  "Mother Night, she of the stars and the moon."  She finishes shuffling and slides the deck of cards in front of her onto the table. Kellon's question causes her to chuckle with dark amusement.  "The vampire... is no more a master of your fate than he is a master of his own." 

Her eyes flick between them, watching their faces, each just as alien to the others.  "I have seen the light of the sun return to this place,"  her voice dips, whispers softly, yet nevertheless reverberating through the tent.  "I have seen the imprisoned freed. By the vampire's death... perhaps. Perhaps. One path of many among the stars." 

Madame Eva closes her eyes, and the flames of the candles flicker and dance as she lays a hand upon the deck of cards.  "Now you must answer,  each  of you. Do you wish to see the path of fate...?" 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Religion check on Mother Night:  (1d20+1)[ 18 ] 
 


For a moment, Kellon is tempted. This woman clearly foresaw Anton's death, so there must be some truth to her divinations. Once he has made up his mind, though, Kellon shakes his head firmly.  "I have weathered whatever storm life has thrown at me. I will not alter my course for the threat of consequence. Either I will survive and overcome, or the waves will take me under." 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Religion 
Kellon has never once heard of this title, even for Shar, who is never in any lore considered motherly.
 


The edges of her mouth turn down, but the crone nods slowly.  "Then so be it." 
  "Are you sure?"   Gweyir asks, her arms folded in front of her. Though she too is eyeing the deck of cards with apprehension.   "Weren't we going to try and learn something about Gertruda here?"  
 "I cannot show you the fates of those not entwined with your own,"  Madame Eva speaks, taking her hand from the deck. The flames of the candles steady and grow strong again.

 "What's a fate?"  Spider asks curiously.
Prehysterical
 "You do not need to be limited by my choice,"  Kellon tells them.  "She has said that we  each  must answer. I have given mine, but I do not speak for you." 

In response to Spider's question, Kellon explains,  "The Madame here might correct me if I am wrong, but a 'fate' is the belief that certain things will happen in our life, no matter what. Maybe someone is fated to become a great king or fall to his death off a certain bridge or marrying a certain woman... Whatever that fate may be, not even knowledge of it and attempting to avoid it can change it." 
RandomWombat
 "Your friend is wrong on one account,"  Madame Eva opens her eyes, no longer gleaming in the light.  "Fate is not a certainty. The branches are as numerous as the stars in the sky. Change one detail, and the fates may go awry." 
 "I don't really get it,"  Spider admits.

  "Well, I guess there shouldn't be any harm in listening to the reading."   Gweyir shifts in her seat to get a better view of the table.

 "The path to dawn, with you is not entwined... it is the brother that you seek,"  Madame Eva recites, laying her hand once more upon the deck of cards. A few of the candles flicker, though less than before as the crone's eyes fall on the back of her hand.  "The water of the womb binds. Kin calls to kin. This card will lead you to him..."  she slides her hand down the length of the deck, drawing a card along with it, and lays it on the table.

'The Myrmidon'. An image of a gladiator, bare chested and clad in a helmet that hides his face. Blade and shield in hand.  "In a den of wolves, the boy fights for his life. In death, loss. In victory, loss."  Her tone is dispassionate. Gweyir looks down at the card, her eyes clearly plagued with worry.

  "Fights for his life? What does that mean? Where is he?"  
 "This is all that the cards say,"  the Madame takes the card and shuffles it back into the deck.
Prehysterical
Seeing Eva shuffle the card back into the deck reminds Kellon of another matter. Reaching into his pack, he removes the two cards that were found in the Durst house.  "Do these belong to you, Madame?" 
RandomWombat
The soothsayer's eyes fall upon the cards, and she lowers her head in reverence.  "Not I, not I. The Mother's herself, the cards of fate. Perchance a path through the night to the dawn..."  Laying her own deck upon the table, Madame Eva reaches inside of her shawls and produces another card, much like the others, a glint of silver along the edge.

She slides it across the table, to a resting spot in front of Kellon, then withdraws her hand. Upon the face of the card is an image of a man's bald head, covered in spectral eyes. Waves of energy seem to radiate from the outline of his skull. The Esper. Madame Eva provides no further explanation, folding her hands in front of her.

 "And shall Spider be seeking a reading today?" 

A chittering humming noise emanates from Spider as it considers it.  "Okay!" 

There is no flickering as Madame Eva puts her hand upon the deck.  "I see... the cards will show you what you seek."  Her tone is a mixture of amusement and boredom as she flips over the card.

'The Paladin', displaying a valiant warrior of light.  "To find lunch, you must only ask at the fire. The kindness of strangers shall provide,"  she recites Spider's fortune.
Prehysterical
When it becomes clear that Eva has nothing more to say about the Esper, Kellon takes the card and places it with the others back in his pack.

Kellon chuckles at Spider's fortune.  "I'm sure that's of some comfort to you, eh? Though it seems like fate has been a mixed bag today..."  It seems like Gweyir's fortune has created more worry for her than peace.
RandomWombat
 "I was starting to get hungry!"  Spider declares. It's only had a few rodents at most since leaving the house, and the pickings inside it were probably slim.

Aside, Kellon can see Gweyir looking at the cloth walls of the tent anxiously.   "Right. There are other missing people right? Maybe some of them are connected,"   she seems to be reasoning out.   "So we find Gertruda, and hopefully that helps."  
 "If you remain adamant, then you may go freely,"  the old mystic shuffles her deck again, and tucks it away under the table.  "It is not my place to force knowledge where it is not desired. But should you ever find yourself lost in this land..."  she holds up a hand to her tent flaps, a grin with several missing teeth stretching across her face,  "You will be welcome to return." 
Prehysterical
The card reading seems to have made Gweyir more anxious than she ever was in the Durst house. Kellon stands and bows his head respectfully to the Madame.  "Thank you, Madame. I will keep that in mind,"  he tells her with genuine feeling.  "May the rains fall softly on your roof and your winds be breezes instead of gusts." 
 "Now then, little Spider, let's see about getting you some food. I know the last few days have not been kind to you." 
RandomWombat
Emerging from the tent, the group finds the encampment just as lively as before. The accordion player has taken a break, as a Vistana kitted out for hunting has returned with a freshly bagged elk. Spider eyes the catch hungrily and agrees,  "Let's go get some!"  With Spider scuttling forwards toward the fire, Gweyir lags behind, staring out at the lake away from the crowds. Her mind is elsewhere, and her appetite is probably lacking.

 "Hello! I'm Spider, are you going to eat that whole thing?"  going right up beside one of the Vistana around the fire, Spider's silent appearance causes the man a spook. But he seems to calm down quickly.

 "Hehe, most of it. Rest we'll prob'ly smoke for later." 
 "May we please have some?"  Spider asks, and the Vistani around the fire look over at Kellon and Gweyir approaching behind.

The older man, seated on a small cushion where the rest are using the ground or a small log as a seat, waves them over.  "Certainly. Come and join us at the fire! We were just about to exchange stories. How about you tell us a few good ones, and we'll call that payment enough?" 
Prehysterical
Poor Gweyir... They will need to have a chat later, no doubt.

Kellon hesitates before sitting down. That seems like more than a fair trade, but Kellon was used to delivering sermons, not tales.  "What sorts of stories?"  The words of the hunters come back to him and Kellon quickly adds,  "Oh, er, how do you feel about stories of the sea? The townsfolk tell you that the sea is a myth, but that's a lie." 
RandomWombat
 "Ah, a sailor boy? Been a while since one of those came through, has it not?"  one of the women asks, nudging the older man with a foot. He chuckles and bobs his head up and down.

 "Oh yes. We would love some new stories of the sea!"  the old storyteller says. The Vistana hunters begin skinning and butchering the kill, placing a few cuts of meat onto a spit to cook over the fire. One of them saws off a leg from the beast and tosses it to Spider, who gleefully bites into it and begins draining the vital juices before they can spill onto the ground.

Gweyir stays back from the fire, taking a seat on a rock and looking pensive.
Prehysterical
Kellon has an idea, but is not sure if it will work or not. He looks back to Gweyir and asks,  "Gweyir, why don't you start with one of your own stories? I need a little bit to figure out which story to tell first." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
 (1d20+3)[ 12 ] 
 
RandomWombat
With a sigh, the elf comes around to an open spot around the fire next to the storyteller and takes a seat.   "On the spot, huh? Alright,"   she places her hands palm down on her knees and looks into the fire in consideration.   "I haven't been on the sea as long as you, Kellon, but I have a few stories from home."  

She presses her tongue against her teeth in thought as she begins the story, half-heartedly,   "Let's see. This one time, we had this crazy druid who wanted to Awaken a disease to see if we could learn to coexist with it. So, guy went and caught the common cold and then Awakened it."   She shakes her head at the druid's foolishness, starting to tell the story with more energy.   "The cold tried to spread itself at first and we quarantined everyone who caught it, but the colds it made weren't Awakened so it gave up and got depressed. It died in a few days when the Awakened cold germs died out and new ones replaced them. The druid ended up giving up after that."  

The Vistani chuckle amongst themselves at the story. It's not a rousing eruption of laughter, but she gets a few responses.

 "I'll say, as far as stories of ambitious fools go that one ended pretty well. How about I share one next,"  the old storyteller leans forwards.

 "A mighty wizard came to this land over a year ago. I remember him like it was yesterday. He stood exactly where you're standing,"  he points at Spider's spot around the campfire.  "A very charismatic man, he was. Dressed all in majestic robes and a fearsome black cloak, head bald as the sun. He thought he could rally the people of Barovia against the devil Strahd. He stirred them with thoughts of revolt and bore them to the castle en masse."

"When the vampire appeared, the wizard's peasant army fled in terror. A few stood their ground and were never seen again."

"The wizard and the vampire cast spells at each other. Their battle flew from the courtyards of Ravenloft to a precipice overlooking the falls. I saw the battle with my own eyes. Thunder shook the mountainside, and great rocks tumbled down upon the wizard, yet by his magic he survived. Lightning from the heavens struck the wizard, and again he stood his ground. But when the devil Strahd fell upon him, the wizard's magic couldn't save him. I saw him thrown a thousand feet to his death. I climbed down to the river to search for the wizard's body, to see if, you know, he had anything of value, but the River lvlis had already spirited him away." 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Since they said that they want the stories for payment, I have no idea if this needs a Performance check: but here it is:  (1d20+1)[ 6 ] 
 


Kellon looks at Gweyir with dumbfounded amazement.  "Who but a druid would haver considered such a thing? Makes me ill just thinking about it!" 

The old man's tale proves less enjoyable and far more sobering. So, Strahd was used to putting down rebellion and revolt in this realm. Such power... Kellon didn't need a fortuneteller to tell him that taking the vampire on now would be suicide.

A story finally emerges in Kellon's mind and he waggles his claws dramatically as he looks around the campfire.  "I think I've got it. I'm going to guess that you all have never heard the story of Harald the Harpooner."  Kellon shifts on his shell to get comfortable before sweeping his arms in time with the story, fully into orator mode.

 "Many years ago, there was a whaling ship among the isles. The crew hunted not only whales, but sea creatures of all shapes and sizes and some too strange to be believed. One such man on the ship was a sailor named Harald Fingirsson. Harald was a tall and strong man, the envy of his fellow whalers and the prize of many a noblewoman or fishmonger's daughter. As it so happened, Harald did fall in love with a barber's daughter: Eoldad. Her father knew of Harald's womanizing ways and demanded a dowry from him: a haircomb carved from the jaw of a toothed whale for his daughter to brush her hair with every day. Harald had no fear in his heart and agreed immediately, for how difficult could such a thing be for one who looked monsters in the eye?

Well, on that voyage, the ship faced a terrible storm. Rain poured down, cold and blown so fast by the wind that it felt like needles. The wind nearly tore the clothes from their bodies, leaving their skin clammy as every speck of hair stuck fast. Then, there it was: a great bull whale, a monstrous beast nearly as large as the ship. 'We're rich, boys,' came the cry as they laid eyes on such a prize. The oil, the meat, the bones... even the stories would make them a fortune!

And so they began their bloody work. Arrows, bolts, and harpoons thudded and sank into the beast's flanks like feathers on a bird. The beast did not cower meekly as they assailed it. Its massive prow of a snout slammed into the ship again and again, nearly knocking the sailors off of their feet and into the drink. Topmen were thrown from the mast into the waters below, their cries for help turning into screams as the sharks, drawn in by the smell of so much blood, began their grim feast.

Despite the peril, despite the madness of it all, the crew stayed their course. The great whale weakened and Harald aimed his harpoon, a bloodthirsty grin gleaming white in the reflection of the lightning. What Harald did not know, was that the most dangerous monster of all was right behind him...

You see, Harald was not the only one who had taken an interest in the barber's daughter. His own captain, Blacktooth Jack, had long fancied Eoldad, but no woman could stand the sight and smell of rotgut-blackened teeth. Jack knew that he would have no chance with Eoldad when compared to Harald. On that stormy night, in the midst of thunder and rain and ragged screams, the hunter finally became prey. As Harald aimed his harpoon at the whale, he never saw Jack's own harpoon pierce the back of his skull and go through his eye.

The crooked villain grabbed hold of Harald's falling body and cast it over the side. In the midst of all the running and fighting, no one in the crew saw the treachery that had transpired. Harald fell into the waters, the light already fading from his remaining eye as he sunk below the waves. Water poured into his open mouth and the sharks circled this newest piece of meat. The greatest hunter the waves had ever seen now reduced to sharkbait...

And just like that, the sharks scattered like naughty children. Out of the gloomy depths below, where no sunlight ever reaches, something grasped at Harald and pulled him down. It was the hair of the great sea goddess, Umberlee. Some of you might know her as the 'Mother of Sea Monsters', a being of destruction and depthless cruelty to match her black eyes. Umberlee whispered to the dying man, her words carried on bubbles in the water.

  "You have slain many of my children, finless hunter. I should tear you to pieces and scatter your flesh to feed my pets. And yet, there is no denying your skill. I offer you life, and revenge, if you become one of mine."  

Betrayed and dying, Harald took her offer with the bubble of breath escaping from his lungs. Umberlee grinned, rows of teeth gleaming in the dark. She twisted Harald's body, turning him into a monstrous whale. The harpoon in his skull and eye changed with him, becoming a single gnarled tooth that lanced from his snout. On that stormy night, one beast died and another was born.

Now, Harald prowls the deep waters between the isles, hunting for ships. Any hunters who do not pay Umberlee's tithe are hunted by Harald and his bony spear."  Kellon stands up his own spear for dramatic emphasis.  "Take care when you sail in open waters with those who curse the goddess or her children... You might just hear the tip of his horn knocking on the bottom of your boat."  He whacks the wooden shaft against his shell, trying to replicate the sound of something colliding with a ship's timbers.
RandomWombat
Though his telling does not hold the camp enraptured, they lean forward in interest to hear the tale. The old storyteller wears a smile as Kellon reaches the conclusion. "That's two stories I've never heard before then! I do enjoy tales on the origin of monsters." 
 "Reminds me of a little story of our own,"  a woman says, quietly tapping her fingers on the polished and carefully maintained wood of a fiddle in her lap.  "No sea monster, but a lake monster is close, hm?"  She walks over from the other fire and elbows a man next to her, who stands up a little straighter.  "You know this one, do you not?" 

As the woman and one of the larger men with an accordion begin to play, the man begins to speak in rhythmic song form.

 "Now listen weary travelers,
I have a tale to tell,
It may just save your lives, but only if you listen well.
'Cause up beyond Vallaki
And just around the way,
There's a sign that says,
'Beware, the Beast of Zaro Lake!'

They say Lord Strahd got curious and bit a river trout,
Now she drank so many sailors, she's bigger'n a house,
Her teeth are sharp as scissors,
Her claws they are like knives,
And if you think she's ugly wait till you see her insides!" 

The Vistani around the campfire join in as a chorus, apparently all quite familiar with the song.

 So, don't you sail and don't you row and certainly don't you swim,
'Cause if you aren't careful you'll see'yer fate turn grim!
She'll drain you dry, and spit you out. You'd better stay away!
Heed the sign that says, 'Beware the Beast of Zaro Lake!'" 

At this point another man steps forward, taking up the tale in a deeper, rumbling voice.

 "Some say she's a demon, crawled up from the Abyss!
Felt so at home in Barovia, thought nothin' was amiss.
And if you wade into the water to seek her foul pact,
You'll cast your soul upon your line,
Then watch it drift home black!

Don't you sail and don't you row and certainly don't you swim,
'Cause if you aren't careful you'll see'yer fate turn grim!
She'll drain you dry, and spit you out. You'd better stay away!
Heed the sign that says, 'Beware the Beast of Zaro Lake!'" 

The story goes on, each teller spinning a new, outlandish yarn of the origin of the Beast - some eerie, some sad, and some humorous - until eventually their song comes to a close as H'dirus brings over a cask that smells of alcohol and sets it down beside them. The meat cooking on the spits has come to a fine color, and he pours a single mug which is passed around among the gathered Vistani - and offered to Kellon and his companions.

 "Help yourselves, my friends. Madame Eva's own personal moonshine recipe!"  H'dirus declares. The proffered mug smells strong enough to put hair on even a tortle's chest. It's no wonder each of the circle has taken only a tiny sip or a careful swig.

Gweyir takes the tiniest of taste tests and makes a face at the taste.   "Hoo boy. Yeah, making an executive decision, none of this for Spider. Don't even know if 'e can drink it."  
 "Aww!"  the disappointment in Spider's voice fades as it takes a whiff of the drink being passed down the line to Kellon and recoils. Retracting the complaint, Spider settles back down to nurse the flank of deer.

  "So is this Zaro Lake?"   Gweyir asks, nodding behind her at the lakefront.   "And is there really a monster there?"   The stories and songs seem to have moved her mind onwards, and away from her brother.

 "No, Tser Pool this is,"  the storyteller answers.  "Lake Zarovich is up north, past the town of Vallaki. Shortened to Zaro Lake by locals, and the superstitious who believe the devil's name brings bad luck. Some call it by Sorrow Lake,"  his tone dips down and becomes more serious.  "Whether indeed there is a monster, I do not know. But superstitious fishermen are known to abduct lone travelers, to cast out human sacrifices into the lake. Believe it slakes the Beast's dark thirst." 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I was tempted to do  The Beast of Pirate's Bay  for my own story and didn't know enough landmarks. Now, I regret not doing it first. 😛
 


Kellon enjoys the ballad, trying hard to remember the words to take back with him. He probably won't remember the whole thing, but he can at least try.

When offered the moonshine, Kellon takes a sniff and gives a light snort. It certainly smells stronger than any drink he has ever sampled! Mindful of sharing the mug, Kellon takes his swig and gasps at its icy heat.  "By the Trident, that's got a kick! I've known some seadogs that would murder for stuff this strong." 

Passing on the mug, Kellon takes the opportunity to ask,  "So, speaking of this Pool, we were looking for a young girl upstream earlier. Lass of about thirteen summers. You seen anyone near here or the river like that?" 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Good thing you didn't, else I'd be out of material! 😎
 


The mug, near empty after traveling the full circle, makes its way back to H'dirus. The peddler raises the mug in toast and downs the last of its contents, screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head.  "Hoohoo! You ain't wrong, visitor." 

As the topic shifts towards the missing girl, the Vistani look amongst one another, discussing things.  "You seen anyone in the water while you were fishing?"   "No, nothing."   "Sorry." 

Until at last the accordion player raises a hand and snaps his fingers.  "I remember. Girl come through couple days ago. Tried to warn her to be careful, but she'd have nothin' from us. Was going north." 
 "Ooh, that's not good,"  H'dirus chimes in.  "There's the witch coven up there, and the fishermen looking for sacrifices to the lake monster. Lone girl going that way would be in for trouble." 
Prehysterical
Looking obviously concerned, Kellon leans forward and asks,  "Could you take us to where you last saw her? Her parents are worried sick about her." 
RandomWombat
 "Yeah. Sure,"  the man sets down his accordion against the side of the tent behind him.  "It ain't far." 

With Gweyir getting up from her seat to follow, and Spider leaving behind its withered husk of venison thoroughly drained, the group sets out back up the road towards the bridge. The pathway is not very well cared for, more of a hunter's game trail than a proper road. It slops up as they move south.

Even a single swig of the moonshine is enough to leave Kellon with a buzz, the world feeling a little fuzzier, like it's covered in static. The tramping of their feet on the road is broken as Gweyir asks,   "Thought she was going north?"  
 "Yeah. Passed by the crossroad just up here, but our way ain't the main road. Barovians tend to avoid our campsites." 

The four arrive at the top of the hill, where a grim structure stands overlooking the road. An old wooden gallows creaks in a chill wind that blows down from the high ground to the west. A frayed length of rope dances from its beam. The well-worn road splits here, and a signpost opposite the gallows points off in three directions: BAROVIA VILLAGE to the east, TSER POOL to the northwest, and RAVENLOFT/VALLAKI to the southwest.

Up the road to Ravenloft and Vallaki, the road is better maintained, heading up onto less muddy ground than down at the riverside. The northwest fork slants down and disappears into the trees behind them, while the eastern fork leads to the bridge, distantly visible from here only about a town's block away.

Across from the gallows, a low wall, crumbling in places, partially encloses a small plot of graves. The stones are covered in dust, and a layer of grime from the Mists. It's too far to make out if any names are engraved on these graves, most likely belonging to those hung upon the gallows.

 "She went up the road that way,"  the Vistana man points up the main road to the higher ground.
Prehysterical
Kellon is starting to regret sampling that moonshine before taking a walk. He feels like a fresh sailor getting his sea legs. He nods to the man in thanks.  "Thanks for the help. Your hospitality is appreciated."  Looking to Gweyir, Kellon asks,  "Shall we move up just a bit? I feel like I need a place to sit down." 
RandomWombat
  "Sure, I guess we can sit on... the gallows,"   she answers, stepping forward. The structure is foreboding, but it's that or gravestones. Or the ground. Gweyir pulls herself up into a seat on the edge of the wooden platform.

 "I'm gonna head back down and grab some venison 'fore it's all gone. Stay safe!"  with a wave over his shoulder, the Vistana man starts walking carefully back down the trail to the encampment. It looks like he's a bit buzzed from the drink as well.
Prehysterical
For his own part, Kellon has no compunctions about sitting on the ground. He just didn't want to do it in the middle of the road. Kellon sits opposite of Gweyir.  "Sorry, lass, but that moonshine was stronger than what I am used to. Don't want to stumble into trouble in a buzz, do we?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Would a short rest allow Kellon to beat the buzz?

Assuming that nothing disturbs them, spending a hit die to heal:  (1d8+1)[ 8 ] 

Constitution roll, if necessary:  (1d20+1)[ 21 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Sure, with that Con roll he can clear his head a bit. The others spend a hit die to heal up as well. Gweyir recovers  5 , and Spider gets topped up.
 


Taking a few deep breaths seems to steady Kellon's limbs, and the crisp, cool air helps him focus. Gweyir chuckles to herself and quips,   "I did warn you. I barely touched a drop and I'm feeling it a little, myself. Then again I'm not as big as you either."   She reaches up and stretches, lying back on the wooden platform.

 "That stuff smells nasty. Why was everybody drinking it?"  Spider asks curiously, crawling up a little bit onto the dirt embankment next to the road. Spider seems to prefer vertical surfaces and higher ground when available.
Prehysterical
 "Well, you know how much sailors like their rum,"  Kellon replies as he tries to excuse his intoxication.  "They don't shy away from alcohol, but that was something else altogether. Still, getting the air up here seems to have done my head some good."  Kellon turns his neck and tries to explain to the understandably disgusted Spider.

 "Most people get tired of just drinking water, so things like wine, ale, rum, and moonshine have their own flavor to them. I can't imagine that the stuff would feel too good going through your fangs. Probably would sting like crazy, but it's not so bad for us. I've been on a lot of ships, Spider, and most ships can't afford to bring enough fresh water with them. They can't drink sea water and drinks like rum last longer and are less prone to becoming dirty. The last thing you want at sea is to get sick from whatever illness is in your drinking water."  As Kellon says all this, however, he can't help but feel like he's making excuses... He has thankfully never had a drinking problem, but he also takes the existence of alcohol for granted. "The devil's drink", some called it, on account of the obsession it could create in a sailor...

After resting a bit longer, Kellon finally stands himself up. He uses the Spear of Light to help raise himself and use it as a walking staff.  "Well, shall we get on with it, then? I worry about the girl. A lot can happen in three days, as you doubtless know..." 
RandomWombat
 "So it's cleaned water?" 
  "Heh. Kind of, they use it as a disinfectant sometimes too,"   pulling her legs up, Gweyir kicks off of the wooden platform to land on her feet, back on terra firma.   "It makes folks' heads a little loopy. Even things like bumblebees can get 'drunk' off of fermented fruit. And the other bees don't take kindly to drunk shenanigans - just like the captain!"   She laughs and pats Kellon on the shell.

  "But you're right. We should get searching."   Gweyir stops and looks up as a flapping of wings announces a visitor. A raven has alighted upon the top of the gallows, perched there watching. Kellon could swear it's the same one from before.   "That bird again. What do you want, huh?"   she calls up at it, clearly not expecting an answer. All the more to her surprise.

 "Nothing. I overheard you looking for a missing girl." 

Gweyir blinks away her surprise and looks back at Spider, who is poised to jump up at the bird when she distracts it with a question,   "Do all the creatures here talk?"  
 "I dunno!" 
 "Not all of them,"  the bird utters in reply. Its voice is croaky, raspy, but also sounds vaguely reminiscent of a young human's. The bird's body begins to twist and contort, flowing around like a cloud of energy and flailing feathers as it expands, a glow like dim yellow sunlight shining inside of the strange mass. Then it settles into a new shape, that of a pale young girl sitting on top of the gallows with her legs swinging.

The girl seems to treat this as completely normal, continuing from her previous thought,  "I overheard you looking for a missing girl. You seem like good people." 
Prehysterical
Kellon watches the bird warily. Unlike Gweyir, it doesn't really surprise him when it starts talking. Not that he really  expected  to talk, but... like Gweyir says, it's hard to be surprised by anything in these lands. The transformation, however, does take him slightly aback. Seeing a young woman sitting nonchalantly atop the gallows is a bit disturbing.

 "Aye, that we are,"  Kellon concedes.  "And who are you to care whether folk are good or not?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Insight check to see if she has an ulterior motive: (1d20+5)[ 13 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Insight 
Despite her age, the girl seems jaded. Just from that, Kellon can probably guess that she is a native of Barovia. It would be difficult for any child growing up here not to be jaded.

She does seem to be holding back some information. Kellon gets the feeling she's gauging him at the same time as he's gauging her.
 

 "Not many people are confident enough to call themselves a good person so easily,"  the raven girl points out. At first it seems like she's going to stay up on her perch, but the old wood of the gallows starts to make creaking sounds and she looks over to the post beside her. Deciding it better to return to earth on her own terms, she hops down onto the gallows platform.

 "Father has me keep watch for good people coming into Barovia,"  she explains, facing the group.  "I might be able to help you find the girl you're looking for. I see a lot of things." 
 "Where is she?"  Spider asks, not so much a demand as an extremely eager question.

 "She might be at the Ol' Bonegrinder. If it's already been three days like you said she might not have much time left,"  the girl answers.
Prehysterical
The tortle tilts his head in puzzlement.  "I was answering your question, lass, not speaking for me own moral standing. I am faithful, yes, but I make no claims for goodness." 

Kellon regards her offer suspiciously.  "And let me guess, you're not going to tell us his name, are you? Just what in blazes is a 'Bonegrinder'?" 
RandomWombat
 "Oh,"  she says, simply.  "Not yet, no."  Her eyes flicker between Kellon and the others, in turn.  "That's what they call the old windmill on the road to Vallaki. On account of the witches there, who the people believe use the mill to grind up bones to make their bread." 
  "You think these witches kidnapped the girl?"   Gweyir asks - she, unlike Spider, is far more demanding of an answer.

The raven girl sways from side to side and looks towards the road to Barovia village, as if expecting something.  "I've seen parents give away their children to the old witch in exchange for baked sweets. I don't know why. She should be going home soon, she was in town plying her trade again today."  The girl turns and fixes her eyes on Kellon.  "This is the only road for her wagon,"  she says, pointedly, like a suggestion.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Intelligence 
Kellon recalls seeing an old woman going door to door selling cakes earlier, on their way to Sokol and Mary's townhouse.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon visibly blanches at the mention of the trading.  "Black clouds and thunderbolts,"  he swears viciously, the wood of his spear creaking in his grip.  "All right, I get your point." 

Turning to Gweyir, Kellon relays the information.  "Remember the woman with the cart that we saw earlier back in town? I think that's her."  She can see plainly in his look that he is aware of the girl dancing around the question, but this is all that they have to go on.
RandomWombat
 "Be careful. The witches are dangerous,"  the girl tells Kellon lastly, before the swirling transformation reduces her to a raven once more and she flies up to perch in the trees atop the hill.

  "Yeah, I remember them,"   Gweyir follows Kellon's look towards the bridge.   "I don't see her yet... are we going to take bird girl on her word and ambush some old lady? Or should we try talking to her first?"  
Prehysterical
 "We'll try talking to her first. Even if she really is an evil witch, she might have information. Let's not take anything on first appearances."  Kellon affectionately pats Spider, living proof of that concept.  "We can either set up on the other side of the bridge or confront her when she's trying to cross."  Gods, he is already sick of being a plaything for the inhabitants of this realm...
RandomWombat
  "I guess catching her on the bridge would keep her from just running her wagon past us,"   Gweyir agrees. She starts walking down the road back towards the village.   "We should get in place then, before she catches up with us."  
 "Don't worry, if she tries to run I can web her!" 
Prehysterical
Kellon follows along behind her, ready to set up a welcoming party for the mysterious cake seller.
RandomWombat
They begin to walk back along the river Ivlis road, following the worn dirt. Around the curvatures of the road they swing, the bridge coming into clearer view. As they arrive, they can see up the path to the village. Just as the raven girl predicted, someone clad in ragged clothes is marching down the road with a cart trundling behind on squeaky wheels.

Spider slips away silently, fading into the background among the trees, while Kellon and Gweyir await the woman. The sound of the wheels clanking over the stone bridge announces her arrival as she comes over the hump in the middle.

The old woman certainly looks the part of the old crone. A long, jagged nose with warty, scarred markings upon her face. She is draped in old rags, with her greasy grey hair bundled up in a bun. Although she looks thin, frail, and hunched, she pulls the cart behind her on her own without any beast of burden, covered in a cloth tarp. She stops when she sees the two of them waiting for her.  "Well hello there,"  she says, in a sickly sweet voice, with a tooth-gapped smile.  "Funny looking fellow you are. Waiting for some of grandma Morgan's pastries?" 

A familiar raven glides past above, landing in a tree on the other side of the river, behind the woman's field of view.
Prehysterical
Kellon feels a bit foolish now. Why hadn't he questioned it earlier when he saw an old woman pulling a cart around with no trouble at all?

He nods, still gauging the situation.  "Aye, I hear that the townsfolk are a big fan of your treats. Pray tell... what are they going for today?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I am guessing that needs a Deception check:  (1d20+1)[ 10 ] 
Perception:  (1d20+3)[ 6 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "Not much, not much at all. Just a single gold piece,"  the old woman turns and reaches into the cart, drawing out a small mincemeat pie.  "Fresh out of the oven, dear. One bite will take you far, far away from dreary daily drudgery." 

She smiles sweetly - or it would be sweet, were the sight of her blackened teeth not revolting - and hold it out.  "I'll even make a special offer, for a first time customer. A free sample." 
 
 Spoiler: Kellon Insight 
The smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.
 
Prehysterical
 "Call me crazy, but I actually enjoy drudgery,"  Kellon retorts.  "But I won't say no to a free sample. How about a girl of thirteen summers, went missing about three days ago? That's what I'm in the mood for!" 
RandomWombat
The old woman cackles at Kellon's answer,  "Why, that does sound absolutely mad. But I'm afraid we've no such thing in stock, dearie."  The old woman sets the pastry back in her cart.  "I'm afraid if there is no business, I really do have to go. It's a long way for an old woman, and the Barovian roads are not safe at night."  She picks up the yoke of her cart again and waits expectantly for the two of them to clear out of the way.
Prehysterical
Kellon answers smoothly,  "Well, if that is the case, why not let us escort you? Surely, a defenseless old woman would welcome the company of a few armed travelers to see her safely home in these dark, dangerous lands." 
RandomWombat
 "If you would be so kind, who am I to turn down your offer?"  she croons, trundling ahead with her cart to their end of the bridge.  "Please, do lead on." 
Prehysterical
Kellon complies without a word, maintaining a watchful vigil on the woman out of the corner of his eye as they travel.
RandomWombat
Down the road they go, the creaking of the wheel behind. As Kellon and Gweyir walk ahead of the old woman, Spider remains hidden out of sight.

Kellon gets an eerie sensation to his left, the prickling feeling of the Mists as they near the border. But the road curves away, stretching through the rocky foothills of a small mountain. Trees arch along the right side of the path, as the terrain stretches upwards to the left. Eventually, Kellon senses more pickling sensations from ahead. As the road curves around a rocky cliff, he can see below the Mist hanging over a lake like a shroud. Though he can feel the curvature of it. As if circling something beyond sight.

The path of the road follows up along a river and falls, feeding into the misty lake below from the direction of the Tser Pool.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception 
There is a glint of light off to the side of the road. Kellon can see, hanging from a branch just past the treeline, a round amulet made out of bronze. It looks like it has some sort of opening, perhaps to hold a memento.
 
Prehysterical
 "Hold up,"  Kellon says as he raises a hand.  "I think I see something. Stay right here, I'll be right back."  He goes off to collect the amulet.
RandomWombat
The old woman continues trundling along, disregarding Kellon. Gweyir pauses and looks over to see what he's up to.

Stepping off to the side, Kellon plucks the amulet from the branch. It has a small knob at the top, and when Kellon opens the clasp it reveals a strange structure. It has two prongs, one shorter than the other, arranged pointing in different directions. Twelve numerals are positioned around the edges of its circular shape.

There is a crunch of grass behind Kellon, out of view.  "Where are we going now?"  Spider's voice asks from beneath the bushes, gleaming black eyes shining from the dark.
Prehysterical
Very strange... Kellon quietly tells Spider,  "We're following the old woman to the windmill. Just stay low and be ready if there's trouble." 

Going back onto the road, Kellon shows the strange apparatus to Gweyir.  "Any idea what these symbols mean? It seems like a talisman." 
RandomWombat
Spider bobs up and down, imitating a nodding motion. It slinks away back into the shadows, and Kellon can hear quiet crawling as it leaves.

Back at the road, Gweyir walks quickly to catch up with the old crone's brisk pace. She takes the talisman and examines it, turning it around and testing the knob at the top. It seems to make the two pointed prongs turn, with the smaller one spinning slower than the larger one. The elf purses her lips in though.   "Well... there are twelve numbers around the middle. Hm, oh!"   she lights up a bit with a revelation.   "Twelve numbers. That's the same as a sundial, isn't it? But how does it work, if you have to move these things manually?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon can only shrug, or at least the tortle approximation in a shell.  "Who knows? Better question might be how it even got there in the first place... That's town-work, right there." 
RandomWombat
Gweyir returns the gesture, closing the clasp of the device and holds it out to Kellon.   "In this place? Somebody probably fell out of the sky and dropped it,"   she quips.

Along down the road they go, winding back around to the east. To the north, the ground falls away at the side of the road. A rocky crag watching over more woods below, and the waterfall and rapids more clearly visible. It's been such a gradual incline, they'd not noticed how high up they'd gotten. Ahead, a stone bridge spans the huge canyon, the Tser Pool below to the right. The colorful tops of the Vistani tents can be seen below, and a small footpath in the side of the cliffs winds back and forth down towards it.

Far at the opposite end of the stone bridge, a sheer cliff stands above the rushing water below, and the road leads on. With no tree or rock cover out here, the wind is bitter cold.
Prehysterical
As they approach the bridge, a thought occurs to Kellon. He leans over and asks Gweyir in a whisper,  "Think you can lift the cover on the wagon and take a look without her noticing? I'm deathly curious if it's just pies and cakes back there..." 
RandomWombat
Gweyir exchanges a look with Kellon and nods silently. As the old woman rumbles along onto the bridge, the noise of the creaky wagon bouncing upon the rough stones provides good cover from being overheard. Out of the corner of his eye, Kellon can see Spider crawling down onto the underside of the bridge, as well.

Gweyir steps closer and keeps pace with the back of the cart, reaching down to lift the tarp. There are crates, secured and lashed to the cart, containing the cakes and pies. But there is also a big cloth sack, suspiciously the size and shape of a child, but it is not moving or struggling. Lowering the tarp back down, Gweyir looks back at Kellon silently, looking for some direction on what to do.
Prehysterical
At this point, it would feel criminal not to least check before they arrived. Kellon holds up a claw to signify waiting before moving his claws into a mouthing motion.

Moving up to the old woman, Kellon asks her,  "Well, I must admit, I am getting a little bit bored. Maybe drudgery isn't all it's cracked up to be, after all. The landscape here is so dreary..."  Down on his other side, Kellon flicks his claws subtly to signal Gweyir.  "Tell me, besides mincemeat, what other kinds of pies do you have? I also heard someone say that you sell cakes. And no, I don't want the stuff that's been stuck in the wagon all day. What's something that I could get hot and fresh from you when you get home? I've got the coin to make it worth your while." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Deception:  (1d20+1)[ 9 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The old woman cranes her neck back, at an angle that seems almost unnatural - just on the edge of what could be played off as a trick of the eye. A crack of a smirk twitches at the edge of her mouth.  "Oh, but those are the cakes, my lovely. Mincemeat Pies just doesn't have the same ring as Dream Pastries. Hmhmhm. A little saleswoman's trick. But I assure you, they are  everything  you've heard described."  There is a mischievous, dangerous twinkle in her eyes.
Prehysterical
Kellon fervently fights the urge to look behind him, sticking to the role that he is playing. He coughs awkwardly in embarrassment.  "Oh, well then, I apologize for my ignorance. Y'see, I was raised in the isles and we didn't have any flour to make any pastries. Lots of fish and coconuts and such, sure, but honestly, most of the time dinner just ends up on a stick, anyway. 'Dessert' was not in our vocabulary.

So, do you grow your own wheat or do you buy it from one of the noble families in the area? Obviously not from here, so I don't know who is who and who owns what." 
RandomWombat
 "A good business woman can't reveal all her secret recipes,"  the old crone waggles a finger, continuing to pull the cart with ease using only one hand.  "But if you're so curious about the quality of our ingredients? All naturally sourced, purchased or traded from local families."  She lowers her hand and turns her eyes once more to the road ahead.

 "My daughters and I live at an old mill. Grind everything up and bake the goodies ourselves, fresh and warm every morning."  There is a dry tittering laugh from deep down in her throat.
Prehysterical
The tortle holds up his hands placating.  "I meant no disrespect, marm. Just interested in the process, that's all. Just the idea of grinding plants up and have it turn into something completely different when placed in a fire... If saying this makes me more uppity than a tavern bard, so be it, but it almost has its own sort of  magic  to it. Not exactly the sort of thing you get to see happen on a ship." 
 "Well, if you have more than one daughter, why don't you have any accompany you when you're out and about? The townsfolk have been going on about undead and bandits and blights... Were my own mother still alive, I wouldn't want her out alone in such."  Kellon looks backward as if in reflection of the thought, but he wants to check on Gweyir's status.
RandomWombat
 "Don't you worry about granny Morgan, dear, she knows how to take care of herself,"  the old woman answers as they reach the other side of the bridge. The wheels gain purchase upon the dirt road again, and roll along more quietly.  "Maybe even a touch of magic of her own, hmm. And besides, I wouldn't want any Vistani ruffians who lay eyes on my little beauties to get any  ideas ." 

Behind them Gweyir is still walking along behind the cart. Spider slips out from underneath the bridge and creeps along low, into a ditch on the side of the road. Things are more sparsely forested here, a few bushes and thickets, with the forest about twenty feet offroad to their right  where the same crags they slept under last night curve around and begin to shrink as the land rises up to meet them.

Up the road ahead, an old crumbling wall can be seen. The remains of a fortress of some kind, with a large gate overlooking a crossroads.

  "Do the three of you get many visitors out there at the windmill?"  
 "Yes, once in a while. Customers who just can't wait for a taste, can't wait for old grandma Morgan to come back into town. So they make the hike up to knock on our door." 
Prehysterical
Kellon makes a show of feeling for his waterskin before sighing.  "Damn it, looks like I left my waterskin back at the tavern. Could use a drink..." 

He goes backward and asks Gweyir in a low voice,  "Let me see your waterskin. You never checked the wagon, did you?" 
RandomWombat
Looking over at him, Gweyir shakes her head.   "Not besides what we both saw. I thought you had something in mind,"   she takes the waterskin from her belt and turns it over to him.

 "I heard they have a lovely vineyard 'cross the river in the west,"  the old woman prattles on.  "It's been so long since I had any wine." 
Prehysterical
Looking at her rather crossly, Kellon accepts the waterskin and takes a reasonable enough drink to justify his excuse. He struggles to keep his voice down as he hands it back.  "Yes, I did. I talk to her, you jump into the wagon and check while she is distracted."  Aloud, he says,  "Thank you, lass. I suppose I will owe the next round." 

Going back to the front alongside the woman, Kellon asks her,  "Well, if you want wine that badly, why don't you go to the vineyard and make an arrangement? Maybe payment of a certain number of... Dream Pastries in exchange for a bottle or two?" 
RandomWombat
Rubbing the back of her neck, Gweyir whispers to him as she leans over to take the waterskin back,   "I couldn't really poke around with her peering back at us."  

As he goes back up to the old woman, she makes a disappointed tutting sound.  "I'm afraid the vintner isn't so fond of my pastries. Conflict of interests, I think, see. My pastries help folks forget their pains, his wine helps folks forget their pains." 

Their little group soon approaches the gate. A raven lands atop the wall and caws, causing the old woman glance up and scowl at it. The old wall of stone bricks stretches between two large hills, where watchtowers are erected. One of them has fallen down the side of the hill, one of its legs rotted away too much to hold its weight. Along the top of the wall is a walkway for soldiers to man parapets, but several sections are no longer traversable - save to the birds.

The gate itself is made of wood. With the mechanism to open and close it easily inaccessible above, someone has forced it open and propped a stone in place beneath each half of the wooden gate, to keep it that way.

There are a few abandoned houses and cottages around the crossroads, as though there were once a tiny hamlet here. Down the road through the gate, Kellon can see the tall figure of the windmill standing against the backdrop of a wide forest. Between the gates and the windmill, and all across the open space, are stretches of farmland accompanied by farmhouses of varying maintenance and decline.

The other way, down the road to the east, is a wide open plateau. It rests at the top of the craggy cliffs Kellon saw from below. Another, foreboding set of gates stands down the road, and beyond them massive castle spires. The clouds above seem to dip down from the sky to swallow the very upper reaches of the spires, swirling around and between them like sea serpents through a great wreck upon the ocean floor.
Prehysterical
As they approach the gate, Kellon gives a reptilian hiss that is the equivalent of a whistle.  "By the tides, what happened to this place?" 

He has a sneaking suspicion of who might be living in the far-off castle, but they have more immediate concerns. They are almost to the windmill and Kellon does not relish the idea of the woman revealing her true identity in good (or rather, bad) company. Kellon asks Morgan,  "I notice that you don't like yon bird up on the gate. Mayhaps a bit of sport would be to your liking?"  He taps the butt of his crossbow.  "A little friendly wager?" 
RandomWombat
'Granny' Morgan looks back and smiles, pausing in her tracks.  "A wager with little old me? What do you have in mind, dearie?" 
Prehysterical
 "Well,"  Kellon proposes,  "your Dream Pastries cost one gold, right? Well, I have a bit of experience with a crossbow. How about for every shot that I miss on the bird, I pay you two silver? And when I finally kill the bird, you give me one of the pies and I pay you what I owe?"  He pulls a coin purse from his belt and jangles it to show that it is not an empty promise.  "If I'm as good as I think I am, I get a discount. If my aiming skills are sorely lacking, however, you make some extra money without any work at all!"  Rubbing his beaky chin for a moment, Kellon concedes,  "Actually, now that I think of it, that's rather cheap of me. How about we say five silver for every miss?" 

Kellon stops and turns back to look at Gweyir.  "What do you think, lass? Is that fair? Do you want in on this action?"  His eyes flick between her and the wagon, struggling to make his distraction clear to Gweyir while not acting suspicious for Morgan.
RandomWombat
 "What an interesting offer,"  Morgan rubs her chin thoughtfully, her mouth curled up into a wily grin.  "The offer of a free sample is still good. But if you're a gambling... turtle, well, who am I to deny you your vices." 
  "Ugh. The bird hasn't done anything to you,"   the druid says in disgust, turning away. But while Kellon is between her and Morgan as she walks away, she shoots him a wink.
Prehysterical
It is a good thing that tortles cannot smile, for Kellon would have been hard-pressed to keep one off of his face. Instead, he gives her a scoff that almost comes out as a gargling cough.  "Bah, you druids are no fun at all! More in love with feathers and mud than good old gold and silver! Your loss!" 

Kellon pulls out the beat-up heavy crossbow from over his shoulder and loads a bolt into it. He takes (not-so) careful aim at the bird and fires.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
So, I have no idea how far the bird is, but is it fair to say more than 100 feet? If it is, then Kellon gets an automatic Disadvantage on the attack roll. Otherwise, Kellon would try to impose a deliberate Disadvantage on the attack roll. It would be nice if he could just choose to miss, but I am guessing that he needs to be at least close to make it look like he is trying. So, maybe the attack roll can instead be like a Deception check?

Attack rolls:  (1d20+2)[ 20 ] 
 (1d20+2)[ 6 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I think treating the attack roll as a substitute for Deception should work fine.
 


With a mechanical clunk the crossbow fires, the bolt whistling past the raven atop the wall. The raven hops to the side and watches carefully, as if anticipating the next shot.  "That's five silvers, then,"  the old woman croaks, amused at the display.

Meanwhile, Gweyir creeps around behind the wagon and reaches in. She feels through the cloth sack and begins to slowly ease it out of the cart, careful not to move the cart and cause the wheel to squeak.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
The raven is taking the Dodge action, which effectively gives Kellon Advantage on his roll.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives an exasperated sigh.  "Should have just taken the sample... Well, I'm not handing over five silver for nothing. Let's make a small fool out of me instead of a large one." 

He reloads the crossbow, going a little slow as he hears the old mechanisms creaking in the weapon, and takes aim at the bird.  "This time, I'll get him. Just you watch." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack rolls:  (1d20+2)[ 5 ] 
 (1d20+2)[ 15 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The bolt almost seems like it's going to hit home this time - much against Kellon's intent. But at the last second, the bird hops out of the way. It looks down its beak at them like a triumphant matador after staring down a bull.

Lifting the sack out of the cart, Gweyir carefully tiptoes over to the ditch, making nary a peep. She lays it into the grass and rolls it down to where Spider had been following them. Out of the corner of his eye, Kellon can see her making a few silent gestures, presumably to Spider, before tiptoeing back to where she was and readjusting the tarp so that it doesn't seem to have been moved.

 "It appears that luck is not on your side today,"  the old woman taunts Kellon, fortunately too engrossed in the show to see Gweyir's machinations.
Prehysterical
  You'd like to think, wouldn't you, you old crone,   Kellon smirks to himself. Aloud, however, he looks between the crossbow and the bird and swears as viciously as any sailor that he's ever heard, going so far as to bang his fist against it in anger.

With a final groan of despair, Kellon slings his crossbow and begrudgingly pulls out his coin pouch. He mutters to himself in foul temper as he counts out the coins.  "I've already wasted two bloody bolts on the damn thing. No sense paying you  and  the fletcher at the same time!"  Kellon places the coins into Morgan's hand.  "Here. The bird ain't dead, but you can keep your pie. Enjoy the free silver... Well, looks like that windmill of ours is right over there. Don't need us for that stretch. I'd say it's been a pleasure, but I'm ten silver in the hole for it. Maybe I'll stop by some time when I haven't lost my appetite..." 
RandomWombat
The coin jingles into her outstretched hand, gnarled fingers with unkempt nails curling around it greedily.  "Such a shame. I was looking forward to introducing you to the girls,"  with her other hand, she plops a Dream Pastry in Kellon's now empty claw, despite him turning it down.  "In case you change your mind later. Save you the trip,"  she says with a grin as she picks up the yoke of the cart and begins rolling down the road through the western gates.
Prehysterical
 "Oh... well, thank you."  As Morgan leaves, Kellon makes a show of yelling at the raven.  "Stupid flying rat! Go boil your head  and  your eggs!" 

Kellon goes the other way, waiting until he is within whispering distance of Gweyir to say,  "Let's move until we're out of sight, then we can examine the bag." 
RandomWombat
Turning away, the two of them stroll back the way they came, down the road to Barovia. It isn't long until the old wall, and the abandoned cottages of the hamlet, are between them and the old crone. The 'flying rat' takes off into the air, soaring up to circle around above. It's been a long walk, and the eerie blue of Barovian sunset is beginning to overtake the sky.

Though they are further away, Gweyir still whispers,   "I felt through the sack, there's  definitely  someone inside. They weren't moving. I tried signalling Spider to take it this way, hopefully he understood."  
Prehysterical
Kellon's beak clacks together grimly.  "So the story was true. I hope that there's something that we can do for them."  They seek out Spider and the person in the sack.
RandomWombat
Off to the side of the road, behind some of the cottages, they find Spider lurking in the ditch. A net of webbing has been used to drag the sacked figure away from the wooden gates.  "Are we done sneaking?"  Spider asks in a hissing whisper.

  "For now. Good job, Spider,"   crouching down next to the sack, Gweyir pulls away some of the webbing to clear the opening of the sack, and starts pulling it open. As she drags the sack away, the form of a young boy, no older than seven summers, lay unconscious on the ground. There are some bruises around his neck, suggesting he'd been choked out, but his chest rises and falls weakly.   "Gods. This is terrible."  
 "Is the human okay?"  Spider asks, crawling over to look. Gweyir brushes some hair away from the boy's face and checks his pulse.

  "Barely. He's alive, but weak."  
Prehysterical
It's every bit as revolting as the raven girl suggested. Kellon clenches his fists in anger before turning to Gweyir.  "What should we do? I don't want to leave him in one of the cottages by himself, especially unconscious, but we also cannot take him with us to the windmill. Is there any way we can wake him?" 
RandomWombat
  "I could use some of my healing magic to get him up. But is it a good idea to go to the windmill right now?"   Gweyir looks up at the fading light.   "She's going to know we took the boy, and the daughters are there too. They'll be expecting us as soon as she gets there, if they don't go hunting for us."  
Prehysterical
Kellon counters,  "Gertruda has already been missing for three days. What if the witch and her daughters caught her and she's been held captive? And where are we going to go to rest?"  He waves around at the forsaken hamlet.  "The Vistani encampment is hours behind us and I'd rather wrestle a shark than go knocking on that castle's doors." 

The tortle clacks his beak unhappily.  "I'm making the assumption, of course, that the witches haven't already done Gertruda in. Do you think that we should hide in one of the cottages? The hag will think that we went back south from how we left." 
RandomWombat
  "We can't exactly help her if we're caught or killed. Maybe..."   Gweyir looks around, taking stock of the hamlet. The frown on her face says she doesn't really have any better ideas on where they could find cover. Lifting a hand up, she scratches her hair underneath her hood.   "I do have one idea. It involves Spider."  

Spider perks up, leaning back on its body to look up at Gweyir and listen attentively.

  "As far as we know, she doesn't even know about Spider. If the witches are out looking for us, they might leave their windmill empty. All we have to do is not get caught, and hope Spider has enough time to get any kids out of there."  
 "I can do that!"  Spider volunteers confidently.

Flicking some hair out of her face, Gweyir looks over at Kellon.   "What I'm not sure about is the same as you. Where we could hide, where we would meet up with Spider."  
Prehysterical
 "Well, I suppose we could hide in the woods. Then they would have to make an honest effort to find us. I sorely doubt that they will leave the windmill completely empty, though. Likely, just one of the daughters will stay behind while the rest go searching. I like the idea of Spider being our scout. So much, in fact, that it might be in our best interest to see if Spider can sneak up to the windmill after dark and do a little scouting. See what the place looks like, listen to whatever chatter he can from the witches." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Don't know why I just thought of this, but did Gweyir get Anton's Cloak of Resistance? There's no way they would have buried that.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Anton had given the Cloak to Gweyir after he identified it, so she is wearing it, yes. He hadn't kept it for himself since he never expected to end up on the frontlines.
 

 "I'll be the best scout you ever have had, Kellon! Spider crouch and Spider sneak!" 
  "I bet you will, little buddy,"   Gweyir scratches the top of Spider's fuzzy head as she nods along with Kellon's plan.   "I'm no stranger to the woods. I should be able to help cover our tracks, and conceal our hiding place."  
Prehysterical
Kellon gives his own scratches to Spider in approval.  "Do you think we can get to the woods west of the windmill before they figure it out? It's the last place they would look for us. Yes, I know, it's more dangerous for us, but it's less dangerous for Spider and it's easier for us to keep an eye on things. When we move tomorrow, we need to move  fast ." 
RandomWombat
  "If we get going now? I think we can manage."  

Gweyir points to the southwest of the gate, towards the hills.   "To avoid moving through the gate into the open fields, we can use the hills as cover."  
Prehysterical
Kellon lifts the child and carries him in his arms.  "Then let's not waste any time." 
RandomWombat
Together, their group begins making their way west. The earth heaves ahead of them in great mounds. The collapsed watchtower lies at the base as they travel around it, like a wounded beast curled up on the ground. Narrow ditches and trenches lead between the hills, often blocked by thorny bushes whose seeds have funneled down to the bottom. Spider moves with great ease through the uneven terrain, scuttling ahead and peering around to blaze the trail for its friends.

Behind, Kellon trudges with the child in his arms, and Gweyir takes up the rear, carefully brushing away any tracks his talons have left behind in the dirt.

On the opposite side of the hills, the western forests rise up to greet them at the edge of the agricultural fields. Moving into the forest puts them under cover of the canopy, and of the rows of trees, as they move south of the Bonegrinder. Along the way they pass by the corpses of a pack of wolves, killed by spears and arrows which have since been pulled free. The animals were left out to rot, and not taken as food, perhaps killed as part of a culling effort.

And the last light of the sun, already shrouded by the clouds and canopy, fades. They are left in darkness. And the Spear of Light will make them all the easier to spot if left to light the way.

  "I think it's about time to split up,"   Gweyir says, crouching behind a tree and whispering to Kellon. Spider senses them stop and turns around to huddle as well.
Prehysterical
It is rough going and Kellon hates traveling in the woods almost as much as being underground. Kellon reluctantly forgoes the light of the spear, much as he is tempted to illuminate the darkness. He joins the tiny council behind the tree.  "Aye, I agree. Spider, be  very  careful. If you are at risk of being seen or getting caught, just run. Do  not  be a hero." 

To Gweyir, Kellon instructs,  "Lass, I need you to be my eyes. I can't see in the dark and I can't be running into trees with the boy." 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
To keep from having things simply happen offscreen, I'll be running Spider's half of the night alongside Kellon and Gweyir. And you'll have control of Spider for it.

Think of controlling Spider a bit like playing a point and click adventure game, or typing action prompts into an old text adventure. Spider will generally behave as Spider does, with you giving directions.

Here are  Spider's stats  for rolls, and control of Spider's token has been given on the new map.
 

 "I'll be the most careful spider ever!"  the arachnid declares as it scurries away, vanishing into the dark. Gweyir reaches out and pats Kellon's shell to let him know where she is, while his eyes are utterly blind and still adjusting to the dark.

  "Keep a claw on my shoulder and follow me. If I tap twice on your finger, it's to let you know to stop so you don't run into me."  
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Crawling out of the dark and comfortable woods, Spider's eyes take in the surroundings of the whirligig that they call the windmill. Spider has emerged near some green, rowed gardens full of juicy vegetables granny Morgan is growing. Spider wonders if vegetable juice tastes as good as meat juice.

The big spinning whirligig leans forward and to one side, like a big wobbly flower in the wind. Spider sees rocky walls and dirt-decorated windows on the upper floors. A wooden platform that looks really good for cobwebs encircles the windmill above a trapdoor in the wall leading into a people nest inside. The top of the whirligig is open to the air, with the stick that holds the whirly petals standing up in a shadow against the shiny moon.

Near the whirligig, on a nearby hill, there are four big rocks poking up tall into the sky, but not as far as the moon like the petals on top of the whirly nest. Black birds with shiny feathers circle above it too far to catch and eat. And one of them might be the bird girl so Spider doesn't want to eat her by accident.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon silently follows Gweyir's command and places a claw gently on her shoulder.

 
 Spoiler: Spider Senses, Tingling! 
Focus on the mission. Get closer to the whirly thingy.
 
RandomWombat
With Kellon holding onto her shoulder, Gweyir inches forwards. The going is slow, with Kellon careful not to trip on any roots or snags and drop the boy on the ground.

 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Inching closer to the back of the whirligig nest, Spider scuttles up to the wall and listens for noises from inside. Spider can feel the vibrations from talking voices in the hairs of its legs, but cannot understand the words. It sounds loud and angry.

 
 Spoiler: Spider Perception 
Cute little spiders have already made cobwebs in the cracks of the wood ring! Spider asks them in its quietest of voices if they know anything about the old lady and her babies. The little spiders say that the old lady strips the skin off of the bones of her prey and sets it out for the wolves to eat. The spiders sometimes nibble and it's got lots of juice. She lays the teeth out in the circle of big rocks.
 

 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Spider friends are so helpful! But Kellon said to try and hear what the mean old lady might be saying. She sounds angry... Time to find an opening where Spider can listen.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Climbing up the side of the very tall nest, Spider approaches the windows covered with decorative dirt. The dirt is very nice because it makes Spider harder to see. There are three ladies inside. They are purple and grey and one of them is wearing a decoration made out of goat horns on her head. Their dresses have been used for dinner by tasty moths.

One of them looks a lot like granny Morgan but her skin is purple and very dry like lizard shells. She is speaking loudly at the other two ladies and angrily, but not angry at them.

 "-let them walk away with our merchandise. Bella sweetums, go and get the scrying pool ready." 
  "So it shall be done, mother dearest,"   the lady with the curly horn hat says in a very serious voice as she goes down the stairs to the lower parts of the purple lady nest.

 "And Offalia, my  wonderfully rotten  heart of hearts. Did you two get the latest batch of pastries in the oven while I was gone?" 
 "As you bade, mother. The boy was sufficiently fattened. The lard should make this batch look scrumptiously moist and fresh." 

Talking about moist fresh food makes Spider salivate bits of venom down its fangs. But Spider remembers the bad old lady is making food out of people meat which is not nice or good at all.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
So, the bad ladies are there and it sounds like they will be looking for Spider's friends. Are there any children in the people nest?

Perception:  (1d20+6)[ 22 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Spider cannot see any signs of human children in this room. There is a big thingy in the middle of the room that is turning at the same time as the whirly petals. To take a look around Spider climbs up higher and looks at one of the very tip top windows. Inside is a human sleeping nest. One of the wooden webs that humans use to climb stretches up from the floor to the ceiling where there is a wooden trapdoor that goes up.

In the corner near the stairs is a pile of children sized clothes tossed on the floor. Literally many crates are stacked on top of each other, many of them empty. There are little holes in them so Spider can see inside. Not all of them are empty. Spider can see a human eye peeking out of one hole. It looks scared and full of salt water like when humans cry. The crates have little trapdoors on the front that have locks on them.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
There is no helping the little humans, not while the ladies are still in the whirly thing. Spider goes back down to listen to the women. On his way down, he looks to see what the path to the front door looks like.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Crawling around to the front of the nest, Spider peers down at the trapdoor. A dirt trail leads downhill to a wider dirt trail, where granny Morgan's cart is resting. It is empty now and the woven covering is tucked under some wooden boxes to keep the wind from blowing it away.

Only one lady is in the middle level of the nest now. She is using a patch made out of tanned hide to knit shut a hole in her dress. The tanning smells fresh, Spider can smell it's stinkiness from outside the cracks in the window.

Spider feels vibrations below of people walking around, but the bottom of the nest has no windows.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Spiders have plenty of practice in being patient. Spider repositions back to the back of the whirly thingy and waits for the other two ladies to come back up from the lower place.
 
RandomWombat
Out in the woods, Kellon and Gweyir progress steadily on. Gweyir taps on his finger and stops, going quiet.   "****. I think somebody's trying to scry on us, but I warded it off."   As if on cue, Kellon feels a tingling sensation at the back of his neck. The feeling of being watched from behind. But forewarned, with force of will he dispels the attempt, a shudder running through his spine and then settling as it is banished.

 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Circling back around, Spider remains perfectly still and silent and waits. Then Spider hears a frustrated shriek from below and the sound of liquid sloshing and spilling. Vibrations from angry stomping footsteps come up the stairs and Morgan stops short of the top, looking up at Offalia.

 "Both of the damned thieves have resisted the scrying. We've no choice but to go find them ourselves, get down here."  Turning around quickly she stomps back downstairs to the lower nest. Offalia puffs air out of her face from between her lips and tosses her needle on the floor, leaving the stitching half done. She walks down after her mother out of sight and Spider can feel the vibrations of a door opening.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon stops like a ship's anchor behind Gweyir when she taps his claw. That feeling of being spied upon, in darkness where he can't even see... He finds himself very grateful of Gweyir's warning. In a very low voice, Kellon asks,  "How in the bloody Hells did you even what that was?" 
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
Morgan sounds very unhappy... Whatever they tried, it didn't work, and now it sounded like the ladies were going to go look for his friends. Maybe if they leave tonight, they can sneak in and help the human children.

Spider watches and observes, noting what direction the ladies are going in. If they come around to see the back of the whirly thingy, he shifts position so as not to be seen.
 
RandomWombat
  "Some of the higher druids of our Circle had similar magic,"   Gweyir answers, peeking out from behind the tree to look in the direction of the edge of the woods.   "Let's just say I used to sneak out a lot."  
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
 "Take wing, my pretties! We sweep the countryside tonight!"  Morgan laughs. It's a violent, hacking laugh, like a wolf choking from poison constricting its airways. Spider peers curiously around the edge of the nest. The three ladies are straddling sticks with a bunch of hay stuck to one end.

One of the ladies looks back right at Spider, and Spider freezes in place. It's Bella, the one with horns. She points up,  "Mother! Something's watching us." 

Morgan looks back and glares at Spider with mean, nasty eyes. But she looks away like a predator who is not hungry enough to be bothered.  "It's just a wild spider, girl, don't be daft. Ignore it. Maybe it will eat one of those pesky wereravens!"  Another violent laugh like a choking wolf, and Morgan jumps off of the ground. Then she starts flying, completely without wings! The other two jump after her and they fly up into the sky to the east like a flock of birds. They go towards the big wall of stone blocks, and Spider titters to itself knowing they're going the wrong way. Silly ladies.
 
Prehysterical
The situation is far from safe, but Kellon just can't resist this particular joke.  "Oh, a little problem with midnight rendezvouses and a saucy lad, eh?" 
 
 Spoiler: Spider Vision 
If all three of the mean ladies are gone, Kellon and Gweyir will want to know. Spider goes to find his friends, wondering what a 'wereraven' is...
 
RandomWombat
Gweyir snorts out a stifled laugh and kicks backwards, jabbing Kellon in the leg. Not that it does much to his scaled tree trunk.   "Typical sailor talk. Y'think druids care about that? They'd have just told ma to go wild and be prepared for the consequences. Nah, went exploring and poking around cities at night. Didn't like us mixing with the civilized folk too much, we might catch the concrete cooties."  

As they chatter, a small voice from nearby causes Gweyir to jump and grab at her sword. But it's only Spider.  "I'm back! The purple ladies flew away into the sky, but they went the wrong way. Silly ladies." 
  "Purple ladies?"   Gweyir asks.

 "Yeah. All covered in bumps like frogs. Granny Morgan was with them but she turned purple too." 
 
 Spoiler: Kellon Religion 
A coven of unnaturally strong witches who look like warty old women? This sounds like a coven of  hags , not of witches. Kellon is only familiar with  Sea Hags , but knows there are other kinds. Despite their appearances, they are not mortal folk, but fiends or fey depending on the kind.
 
Prehysterical
 "Hags,"  Kellon growls in disgust.  "An entire coven of them. Would not want to fight them all at the same time."  He had referred to Morgan as one earlier pejoratively, but it seems like it was all too literal.

 "So, you say they flew away? Was it all of them? Were there any children still alive?" 
RandomWombat
 "Yup! All three flew away. There were small humans in trapdoor boxes at the top of the spinning nest,"  Spider chirps, turning to start leading the way back. Gweyir guides Kellon along the way, though the nearer they get to the edge of the forest the less necessary it becomes. The full moon is up in the sky now, and it provides enough light to see the terrain, if not fine details.

Spider leads them up onto the windmill hill. A garden of ingredients and reagents lay nearby, well-tended, its soil stinking of death and likely fertilized by rotting remains. Looming above them is a dilapidated stone windmill, most of its wooden vanes warped and stripped bare, with shoddy patchwork to hold it together that appears to be made up of leather tanned from human skin.

The onion-domed edifice leans forward and to one side, as though trying to turn away from the stormy gray sky. Kellon sees gray brick walls and dirt-covered windows on the upper floors. A decrepit wooden platform covered in cobwebs encircles the windmill above a flimsy doorway leading to the building's interior. Up above the rooftop is open to the air, and the group can see the mechanisms of the mill in a stark silhouette against the full moon. A raven sits on the wooden frame above the doorway and caws, hopping back and forth in agitation.

Past the windmill are a ring of standing stones, above which are more ravens circling in the sky.
Prehysterical
Hope leaps in Kellon's heart like a ship cresting a huge wave. The night eye of the gods hangs above, a good omen somewhat tainted by how vulnerable they are. Like the Durst house, this place reeks of evil. Kellon wants to tear it down stone by stone, but the children come first. He eyes the menhir curiously, but remains focused on his objective.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Religion on the menhir:  (1d20+1)[ 20 ] 
 


As they approach the front door of the windmill, Kellon asks Gweyir quietly,  "Do you think yon raven is our informant?" 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Religion 
Kellon can definitely see some carvings upon the stones. There is a certain aura about the place that feels like a holy site, in the way the stones have been carefully arranged and aligned. Whatever sacred significance it once held, the hags have almost certainly defaced or profaned it in some way.
 

  "Could be,"   Gweyir looks up at the raven and tentatively waves a hand in greeting. The bird's head twitches over to regard them.

 "It is I,"  the bird confirms Kellon's suspicions as they approach, the girls' voice rasping from its throat. It sounds as though she needs to make a conscious effort to talk properly in raven form, despite the bird's natural vocal range.

Peering up at her curiously, Spider asks,  "Are you a wereraven? The nasty ladies said they hope I eat up the wereravens. What's a wereraven? Is that like the werewolves Gweyir talked about?"  A torrent of questions pour out of its clicking mandibles.

The bird tilts its head to the side and regards Spider.  "...We can talk later. You do not have all night, and a creature is loose inside. I am stuck like this until the sun returns, so I cannot offer much help." 

Gweyir looks at the bird with some suspicion, with Spider's new revelation. But she approaches the door and listens at it. The flicker of dim firelight can be seen below and around the door frame, and through the cracks in its crude construction.   "She's right, something moving around in there. Whoever is carrying the boy should hold back. Want to take the lead, or should I?"  
Prehysterical
Wereravens... Interesting. Still, they cannot possibly be any worse than the vile child-eaters that inhabit this mill. Kellon puts it out of his mind for the moment.

The news of the creature, however, is less comforting. In response to Gweyir's question, Kellon hands the boy off to her and draws forth the Spear of Light.  "I'll go in first." 

Before entering the door, Kellon asks the wereraven,  "Any idea what that thing is?" 
RandomWombat
 "No. Likely a pet of the coven,"  she answers from above the door, before looking out east.  "I will call out to warn you if they are returning." 

Gweyir takes the boy and steps back, allowing Kellon to open the door.

The ground floor has been converted into a makeshift kitchen, but the room is filthy. Baskets and old dishware are piled everywhere. Adding to the clutter is a second peddler's cart, a chicken coop, a heavy wooden trunk, and a pretty wooden cabinet with flowers painted on its doors. Warmth and dim red light issues from a brick oven against one wall, and a crumbling staircase ascends the wall across from it.

In addition to the clucking of the chickens, Kellon hears toads croaking. The sweet smell of pastries blends horridly with a stench that burns the nostrils. The awful odor comes out of an open, upright barrel in the center of the room, next to which stands a portly, grotesque monster with many sharp teeth and wicked claws. Perhaps comically, it is using a mop far too large for it to clean the floor. When it notices Kellon enter, the creature snarls and drops the mop, baring its claws.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Religion 
The creature is a Dretch, one of the lowliest of demons. A few days ago, Kellon may have seen it as a fearsome foe. After the trials of the Durst house, it seems barely a threat; but those claws could rip a careless warrior open just as easily as a blade.

The ichor in the barrel is swimming with soul larvae, the spirits of evil mortals transformed into wriggling worms. They are used as currency by fiends both infernal and abyssal, and can be shaped into new fiends by greater evil forces.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
The Dretch made it easy for us and rolled a 1, so Kellon and the others can freely act before it.
 
Prehysterical
All other details take a backburner to the dretch on the other side of the room. Kellon levels his spear in both hands, ready to charge.  "In the name of the Tempest, I send thee back to the Abyss, demon!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack roll:  (1d20+6)[ 23 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 11 ]  Magic Piercing damage
 
RandomWombat
The blade drives through the demon's gut like butter, pinning it to the flowery cabinet behind and smearing a spray of hideous ichor across its beautiful paints, staining it the color of an ill bowel movement. Spider lunges forwards and bites into the creature, ripping it open, then spits and gags on the floor as the demon falls limp and dissolves into more of the sickening fluid, much like what is in the stinking barrel.

 "Yuckers! Why can't we fight something tasty?" 
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes the Dretch for  11  damage.
Spider bites the Dretch for a  16  damage Sneak Attack, killing it.

Combat has ended.
 


Gweyir steps in behind them, covering her mouth with the hand not carrying the boy.   "Ew."  
Prehysterical
Thankfully, the dretch is sent back to its demon masters in as efficient a manner as possible. Kellon coughs at the foul stench and praises,  "Spider, lad, at some point we will sit down and you can eat until you can't even move! Now, hurry lad, where are the children?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts  Detect Magic 
Religion on whether the soul larvae can be purified or exorcised:  (1d20+1)[ 18 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Religion 
There is nothing that can be done for these souls, save the direct intervention of a deity. In their current state they could not even undergo a quest for Atonement.
 


Casting out his senses, Kellon feels foul magic emanating from the pool of larvae. But he also detects a magical presence in a cabinet.

Morgan's cabinet contains wooden bowls full of herbs and baking ingredients, including flour, sugar, and several gourds of powdered bone. Hanging on the inside of the cabinet doors are a dozen Jocks of hair. Amid various concoctions are three small, labeled containers that hold elixirs. They are labelled 'Youth,' 'Laughter,' and 'Mother's Milk'. Only the one marked as Youth produces an aura of magic.

The wooden crate has several holes in the top and is full of croaking toads, hundreds of them. They are non-magical and appear harmless.

The chicken coop contains three hens and a rooster, as well as a single fresh egg. Spider eyes the chickens hungrily, but restrains itself for now and points a mandible upstairs.  "Up this way to the sleeping nest, Kellon!"  Taking the lead, Spider ascends the staircase.

They come up to the second floor. The dirt-caked windows allow very little light to enter this eight-foot-high chamber, most of which is taken up by a large millstone connected to a wooden gear shaft that rises through the ceiling in the center of the room. It currently turns slowly, hampered by the patchwork job on the windmill, and has also been outfitted with some handles to allow it to be cranked manually. A stone staircase continues up, toward the sound of a child's crying.

Lastly they arrive at the uppermost floor. In a rotting wooden closet are three crates, stacked one atop another, with small doors and tiny air holes set into them. There is an eye peeking out of one of the boxes, and another one has a girl's loud sobbing coming from inside. Next to the closet is a heap of discarded children's clothing caked in dried blood. A ladder climbs to a wooden trapdoor in the nine-foot-high ceiling. A moldy bed with a tattered canopy stands nearby.

Kellon senses one more magical signature, from beneath to the bed. Pinned down against the floor by small thumbtacks is a Tarokka card with gleaming silver edges. Encircling it are sigils painted in blood. The face of the card depicts a human noblewoman in a dress and corset, hiding half of her face behind a decorative fan, and is dubbed 'The Temptress'.

 
 Spoiler: Arcana 
Kellon isn't sure what the sigils are.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon leaves the containers well enough alone. Instead, he shuts the cabinet and follows Spider upstairs.

Up top, they come upon a sorry sight. Kellon leaves the tarot card alone as well, suspicious of the sigils. Instead, he begins barking orders.

 "Spider, get the cages open and get them out. Gweyir, hand me the boy. See what's beyond that trapdoor up top of the ladder." 
RandomWombat
Carefully transferring the boy over to Kellon, Gweyir climbs up the ladder to take a look. She peeks back down through the tapdoor,   "Not a lot. The mechanisms of the windmill. Used to be closed in up here, but most of it's fallen apart."  

Taking hold of its thieves' tools, Spider jiggles open the locks on the two cages. The children inside crawl to the back, looking terrified. The bottoms of the cages are littered with crumbs, and the children look bloated from being force fed, their clothes dirty and unwashed. The boy looks about the same age as the one Kellon is carrying, while the girl is younger, no older than five summers.

 "Don't worry small humans, we're here to help!"  Spider cheerfully informs them, though it doesn't help much. The girl curls up and starts crying again.
Prehysterical
Realizing the children won't respond well to a giant spider, Kellon suggests,  "Er, why don't you let me try, Spider?" 

Kellon tries to crouch down to let the children get a better look.  "Please, please, don't cry, little one. The bad ladies are gone. We've come to take you away from this awful place. My name is Kellon. I am a tortle, a 'turtle-man'. This here is Spider and he is the nicest spider you will ever meet. The lady on the ladder is Gweyir. What are your names?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+3)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The girl at least stops crying, but remains huddled in her ball with her face shut away. The boy looks up at Kellon cautiously. His voice is quiet,  "You're not one of the lady's monsters... I'm Freek. Myrtle is the girl. Y-you're really here to help?" 

Climbing down the ladder, Gweyir joins them once more, although it also makes the room even more crowded.   "That's right. We don't know when the lady might come back, so we need to be really quiet and really fast to get out of here. We'll get you back to your parents."  
 "No!"  Freek says. To call it a shout isn't quite right, but he does raise his voice.  "Our parents gave us away to the lady... d-do you... do you maybe know Ismark and Ireena? They're really nice and they know the burgermaster. Can you take us to them, please?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon fights the urge to cringe at Gweyir's misstep, instead nodding along to the boy.  "Yes, we're here to help. The hags were going to kidnap this boy, too, but we saved him."  He hefts the unconscious child in emphasis.  "And no, we are not taking you back to your parents. We'll find someone who will actually take care of you."  His eyes widen in realization and nods fervently.  "Ismark? Yeah, we know him! Real rich man, right? We were actually on our way to meet him back at the tavern! But I need you both to be brave and stand up. Those evil ladies are out looking for us, because they know that we are trying to rescue you, but they could be back at any time. Can you be brave? Can you do that for me?" 
RandomWombat
The boy nods and crawls out of the box, getting up. He brushes the decaying food crumbs off of his hands and knees.  "Okay. Myrtle, come on. I'll show you where to go,"  he reaches in and helps the younger girl out. She sniffles and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her filthy dress.

  "Do... do either of you know if a Gertruda was here? An older girl?"   Gweyir asks, hesitantly, afraid of what the answer might be. But both of the children shake their head.   "Well, I think we can chalk that up to not bad news, at least. If she's not here then..."   she lets that thought trail off. Gertruda's fate remains unknown, but at least she was not baked into a pie.

  "We should get back into the cover of the woods before the hags circle back around."  
Prehysterical
Not the closure that Kellon was looking for, but at least he won't have to face Sokol with the news of Gertruda being turned into a Dream Pastry.  "Aye. Spider, lock the cages back up. Might buy us a little time if the hags wonder how the children escaped." 

To Gweyir, Kellon asks,  "We can return to the western woods, but we'll be completely exposed on the return trip. Think we might be able to hustle to the woods north of the pond? Then, we just shortcut our way back to town." 
RandomWombat
  "The woods should at least get us to the hills. Even if we have to go through those thorny ditches, there's more cover than trying to get through the fields."  

The group leads the children down to the base of the windmill, where they gag and cover their mouths at the stench. The two of them are very relieved to get back outside into the fresh air, even if it's chilly.
Prehysterical
On the way down, a thought occurs to Kellon. He looks back up at the raven suspiciously.  "What's the deal with yon stones? Looks like it was a holy place, once upon a time. And I don't think we ever got your name..." 
RandomWombat
The raven girl looks away from her watch on the eastern skies to regard the circle.  "An old site of worship from before the von Zarovich line ruled the land. It depicts the four great cities in which the gods dwelt."  She shuffles her wings in an avian approximation of a shrug.  "For more, try asking a priest."  At first it seems like she ignores the second question as she looks back east, but she does add,  "Dartanya. If you survive the night, give my name at the Blue Water Inn in Vallaki." 
Prehysterical
It seems that Kellon has been jumping the gun some conclusions. For a moment, he had wondered if their mysterious benefactor was indeed the person that they were looking for...

 "Well, Dartanya, I am Kellon. We shall remember your kindness. And please, if you come across any information about Gertruda, let us know." 

Kellon turns to Gweyir.  "All right, we better get moving. Do you think that you can cover our tracks?"  He makes sure that the front door is closed if it is not already.
RandomWombat
 "I will watch for any more clues,"  Dartanya agrees, as their group shuffles away into the woods behind the windmill.

  "Yeah. Spider, can you lead the way? I'll go behind and cover our tracks,"   Gweyir asks, bringing up the rear. Spider crawls up to the fore of the group and leads Kellon by a web 'leash,' while the children trail behind into the dark woods.
Prehysterical
Before they venture into the woods, Kellon instructs the children,  "Freek, hold onto my tail. You're responsible for Myrtle. We need to be quiet when we go into the forest. And no matter what, stay with us. Understand? We'll keep you safe."  It seems like the full moon was a good omen, after all...
RandomWombat
Through the pitch dark woods they go, Myrtle barely containing her whimpers of fear as she stumbles along with Freek. The two of them trip over roots and brambles often, slowing down the return trip. As they approach the edge of the trees, where the hills they emerged from rise up, they stop and pull back.

A flying shape rockets through the air above them, a silhouette of a shrieking figure upon a broomstick against the night sky.  "Come out, little children! Come out now! The first two give themselves up will not be eaten! Yaahahaha!"  The figure of the hag circles around shrieking and cackling. Myrtle's whimpering gets loader, as she gets close to breaking into louder sobs that could prove lethal.
Prehysterical
It's too dark for Kellon to try any method of physically restraining the child. Instead, he tries his best to calm her, using a soothing whisper to try and comfort her.

 "Don't listen to her, Myrtle. She's lying. We will keep you safe, but you have to stay quiet." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+3)[ 19 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Screwing her eyes shut, Myrtle forces herself to be quiet. Everyone remains still and silent, for a moment that feels like forever, until at last the hag flies over them, sailing above the forest and out of sight. There's a tense moment as Spider pokes its head out over the hills to look for any sign of their pursuers. Looking back, Spider waves a leg for Kellon to follow.

The slow trek between the hills begins. The children actually need less help here, than they did in the forest. They prove able climbers, and with the light of the moon are able to find their way. Gweyir is the one to slip as they go, losing her footing and sliding down. Her leg gets caught in the thorny brambles, and she hisses between her teeth. As she extricates her leg from the thorns, she ends up with long, painful scratches down her leg, bleeding through her pants.   "I'm fine,"   she whispers, turning the children's faces away from her leg as they stare at the blood.   "Keep going."  
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Gweyir takes  6  damage from falling in some thorns.
 


After an agonizingly slow process, they arrive at the other side of the hills. They are back outside of the hamlet, near the ditch they used to sneak the boy from the wagon away from Morgan. There are no signs of the hags up in the air right now, and the old road is in sight.
Prehysterical
Kellon's heart felt like it would shatter his shell as he waited with bated breath for the hag to leave. When she finally did, he had to consciously hold himself back from a sigh.

When they finally reach the old road, Kellon stops for a moment and lays a hand on Gweyir.  "Here, for your health." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Cure Wounds:  (1d8+3)[ 11 ] 
 


He quicks holds a whispered conference.  "All right, we should probably enter the woods on the east side of the road. We can do that either here or closer to the bridge. We can't stay on the road or else we will be sitting targets. Even if we made it to the Vistani camp, the hags would probably go poking their crooked noses there, too. I'd recommend the old campsite, but it's too open to the air, probably. Still, much as it might not feel like it, the woods are our best friend right now. We need the tree cover." 
RandomWombat
As her scrapes and wounds mend, Gweyir lets out a relieved sigh.   "Much better, thank you."   She casts another nervous look up to the sky and nods.   "It's clear now, so we should cross fast. If they fell back to the mill they'll be coming back  pissed  real soon."  
 "We can cover our camp-nest with webs,"  Spider suggests as their group scurries up out of the ditch and over the road. Out of the woods, the light of the moon allows the children to see where they're going again, right up until they come upon the woods on the other side.

The trailing through the woods continues. Once they get nearer to the rocky crags, it's easy to maintain a sense of direction. But following the crags directly is too risky - the woods tend to get more sparse there, as the roots struggle to take hold in rocky ground. Everything seems to be going smoothly until they near the lakeside of the Tser Pool.

Off to their right along the muddy banks of the water, the group can see four wolves drinking from the lake. But as they sneak closer, trying to avoid drawing attention, they hear sounds of conversation as well. Their voices are coarse, rough, and difficult to understand at a distance. But as they go, Kellon accidentally steps on an old exposed root. As his powerful weight presses down on it, there is a crunch, and the dead root snaps.

The wolves snap as well - to attention. The nearest of the spins around and fixes Kellon and Spider with an intelligent, malevolent look immediately. Its lips curl back, revealing rows of sharp teeth, but they are not accompanied by the snarls of a normal wolf defending its territory.  "Who do we have here?" 
Prehysterical
For a while, it seems as if they will be running away with their noses clean. Kellon grinds his beak together as he accidentally steps on a root and gives away their position. He can see in the wolf's eyes that there is no negotiation or mercy to be had here. The tortle is very conscious of the unconscious child held in his arms. They can't run, especially not with the children.

Kellon stares right back at the wolf, his own steely eyes glaring right into the wolf's.  "A very  painful  meal. I don't want any trouble, but I am more than happy to give it back." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Intimidation:  (1d20+1)[ 9 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "He wants no trouble!"  the wolf plods forward menacingly, dissuaded neither by Kellon's threat nor Spider's bared fangs. A threatening, rumbling laugh growls from his throat as the one nearest him turns and regards the group as well, uncannily human amusement painted across its face.

 "Most folks who want no trouble know better than to go out into the woods at night,"  the second wolf echoes, a male voice of slightly higher pitch beneath the canine growls. The way they seem to speak with the voice of beast and man at once reminds Kellon of the raven girl, speaking in her bird form.

 "Woods at night is our territory,"  the first wolf echoes.

Two more of the creatures can be seen further along the riverbed, though from what Kellon can make out in the dark they are speaking quietly between themselves. He hears the  shing  of a sword being drawn behind him, and Gweyir steps around to his side. A twist of her sword allows the moonlight to gleam off of the silver, and that gives the wolves a moment of pause.   "You know any wolf pirates?"   she asks, voice showing no fear.

The first wolf glances back to the second, then holds Gweyir's gaze in a challenging staredown.  "You are not the one asking the questions."  He takes a few more steps forward, head high and proud.  " You  are no hunter. No scent of holy water on you. Why are you here, and why with children?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon toys with the idea of making up a story before resigning himself to the truth. He tries to stand firm and confident for the children, like a rock breaking the tide. In truth, he's terrified that the children are far too vulnerable with this many wolves.  "We didn't have a choice. We rescued these children from the hags that live at the old windmill west of here. If you think to make an easy meal of them, be assured that I have enough thunder and lightning for the lot of you!" 
RandomWombat
 "Hag prey?"  the wolf's steady approach stops, eying their group. A growly chuckle follows.  "Hrnn. You got yourselves in a lot of trouble, then, hag prey."  The wolf's composure comes back, beginning to circle around to the back of the group, peering at the children through the bushes.  "You don't fancy a fight? Maybe we can make a deal." 
Prehysterical
Kellon repositions to put himself between the wolves and the children.  "The children are non-negotiable, wolf. I have gold and silver, though, if that is of any value to you." 
RandomWombat
 "Most unfortunate for you,"  the wolf says, continuing to circle and stare down Kellon through the trees.  "See, we need new members for the pack. Alpha prefers they be young. Trainable. Don't come in with mixed loyalties."  The wolf stops walking, in the opening between two patches of underbrush.  "So... one of the kids stays with us, and the rest of you can go." 
 "Better a wolf than hagfood,"  the other wolf chimes in, gleefully.
Prehysterical
That demand draws an outright reptilian hiss from Kellon.  "I did not rescue them from the clutches of one evil to deliver them to another! If gold and silver aren't to your liking, maybe a taste of steel will change your mind!" 

With his free hand, Kellon clutches at the holy amulet of Poseidon around his neck. It glows with aquamarine light under his touch... and so does the ethereal weapon that springs into existence next to the smug wolf. Its tines make a thrust at the villain as Kellon draws forth the Spear of Light from his back. A cornered turtle always snaps back.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Spiritual Weapon to the left of the wolf (the wolf's right side) as a bonus action and does a spell attack.
Spell attack:  (1d20+5)[ 19 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 7 ]  Force Damage

Kellon draws his spear and readies a spear attack for when the wolf advances.
Attack roll:  (1d20+6)[ 22 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 9 ]  Magic Piercing Damage
 
RandomWombat
 "Then you-"  Kellon's spell cuts off the wolf in the midst of a smug response, catching it by surprise. The spectral trident that appears in the air jabs the wolf in the side, before he can respond. The creature snarls and snaps his teeth at Kellon, very little deterred by the weapon.

Before the surprised wolves can answer, Gweyir moves forwards to confront the second wolf, but he swerves ably around her silver weapon, instinctively twitching away from it.   "Kellon,"   she says,   "Try not to cast anything too loud."   Three angry hags are still on the hunt...

Of the two wolves off to the side, only one has taken an interest in the confrontation, and seems content to sit beside a tree and watch.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon initiates combat with a Spiritual Weapon, dealing  7  force damage to Werewolf A.

Werewolf C simply watches.

Gweyir attacks Werewolf B, but misses.

It is now Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Werewolf C - 20
Gweyir - 18
Kellon - 15
Werewolf A - 13
Spider - 7
Children - 7
Werewolf D - 6
Werewolf B - 4
 
Prehysterical
Loathe as he is to leave the child, walking him into the waiting jaws of a snarling wolf does not seem wise, either. Kellon gently sets the boy down before leveling his spear and charging the wolf.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon sets the child down as part of his move before engaging Werewolf A.

Attack roll:  (1d20+6)[ 16 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 5 ]  Magic Piercing

Spirit Weapon attack:  (1d20+5)[ 19 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 4 ]  Force

Wow, minimum damage on both rolls...
 
RandomWombat
The charge is halted abruptly as Kellon's spear impacts the wolf's hide. It's like running his spear into a ballast bag filled with sand, instantly halting his momentum. The wolf lunges up and gnashes its jaws inches from Kellon's face. He can feel flecks of spittle splashing against his scales as sharp foreclaws rake down the arm protecting him from its infectious bite. Freek grabs the unconscious boy and pulls him aside into the bushes, where Myrtle is cowering.

Leaping up into the branches and then landing behind the other werewolf, Spider sinks its fangs into the beast's flank. It yowls and falters as venom courses through its system, burning at its insides. The creature swipes at Gweyir, but he backpedals out of the way with ease. Her blind finds purchase this time, the silver sizzling against the wolf's flesh.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon strikes Werewolf A, dealing  2  damage.
Spiritual Weapon jabs Werewolf A for  4  force damage.

Werewolf A bites at Kellon, but misses, then hits with a claw attack for  6  damage.

Spider Sneak Attacks Werewolf B for  14  damage, and  7  poison damage.

Werewolf D ignores the fighting.
Werewolf B misses Gweyir with a bite and a claw.
Werewolf C watches.

Gweyir slashes at Werewolf B for  7  damage.

It is now Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Insight 
Kellon can see that Spider's natural fangs seem to avail it against the beasts, despite not being silvered. While his spear is being shrugged off in spite of the magic in its steel.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Werewolf C - 20
Gweyir - 18
Kellon - 15
Werewolf A - 13
Spider - 7
Children - 7
Werewolf D - 6
Werewolf B - 4
 
Prehysterical
Sometimes, teeth and claws will do when magic and steel won't. Kellon forgoes another spear thrust and instead slashes at the wolf with his own claws.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Claw attack from Kellon:  (1d20+6)[ 18 ] 
Damge:  (1d4+4)[ 8 ]  Natural Slashing

Spell attack from Spiritual Weapon:  (1d20+5)[ 21 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 4 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
Fixing the haft of the spear into the wolf's mouth holds it back from attacking, as Kellon rakes a claw across his face, stirring a whimper of pain.

Spider has not let its prey go free, digging its fangs deeper as the werewolf begins to struggle to maintain its footing.  "Help us!"  it shouts, to the two sitting idly by while they are under dire threat.

The one beside the tree tilts his head to the side and snidely responds,  "You chose this battle. Are you too weak to finish it? Maybe if you beg, I will help."  This wolf's accent is somewhat different. Kellon can't put a claw on it, but it doesn't sound Barovian. The other is still calmly drinking water from the lake.

Apparently unwilling to give the watcher any satisfaction, the wounded wolf refuses to beg and snaps back at Spider, catching the arachnid's leg in its jaws. With a yank, he pulls himself free of Spider and slashes a claw across Spider's flank, leaving a large gash. The arachnid falls over, weakly, as the wolf tries to descend upon it with a vengeance. But Gweyir's blade slashes across the wolf's face, warding it away.

  "Get off of him, you four legged freak!"  

Fey magic sparkles in the air around Spider, who twitches back to consciousness.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon slashes Werewolf A for  8  damage.
Spiritual Weapon jabs Werewolf A for  4  damage.

Werewolf A misses Kellon with a bite and a claw.

Spider scores a critical hit Sneak Attack on Werewolf B for  12  damage, and  4  poison damage.

Werewolf B bites Spider for  9  damage, then claws it for a  12  damage critical hit, KO'ing Spider.

Gweyir slashes Werewolf B for  9  damage, and uses Balm of the Summer Court to heal Spider for  5 .

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Werewolf C - 20
Gweyir - 18
Kellon - 15
Werewolf A - 13
Spider - 7
Children - 7
Werewolf D - 6
Werewolf B - 4
 
Prehysterical
Even as he wards off wolf jaws, Kellon wonders how a pack can be so dysfunctional when its members are engaged in pitched battle. As it is, he continues to lay into his opponent.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Claw attack:  (1d20+6)[ 26 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 8 ]  Natural Slashing

Spirit weapon attack:  (1d20+5)[ 6 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 11 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
Pulling its jaws free of Kellon's spear, the beast lunges low, sinking its teeth into his leg. With a claw he makes it pay for its offense, slashing across its exposed back.

A bite from the risen Spider brings the final toll upon the second werewolf, which falters and falls to the ground. Spider spins around and bares its fangs at the sitting one, which regards it warily, but does not move to aggress. Gweyir shoots it a look, but moves to Kellon's aid. Stepping into the shallow water, which laps up against her feet and soaks her boots, Gweyir delivers a cut to the wolf between them. Like its fellow, the beast has begun to flag and tire.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon slashes Werewolf A for a  10  damage critical.

Werewolf A bites Kellon for  6  damage, but misses with its claw.

Spider bites Werewolf B for a  19  damage critical hit, KO'ing it. Spider's poison paralyzes, but stabilizes it.
Gweyir slashes Werewolf A for  10  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Werewolf C - 20
Gweyir - 18
Kellon - 15
Werewolf A - 13
Spider - 7
Children - 7
Werewolf D - 6
 
Prehysterical
There is no mercy in Kellon's heart as he swipes at the werewolf, emboldened by Gweyir's arrival.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 26 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 17 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 7 ] 

Spirit Weapon attack:  (1d20+5)[ 25 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 7 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Something in Kellon feels like it snaps, as he grabs the wolf with both claws and lifts it up into the air, before shoving it down onto the spiritual weapon like a pike. The beast rasps and then hangs there, slowly bleeding out.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon double crits Werewolf A for  8  and  12  damage, knocking it out.

Combat has ended, barring continuing aggression with the last two wolves.
 
Prehysterical
It feels like the lightning of Poseidon Himself surges through Kellon's veins as bloodlust overtakes him. Once he finally stops seeing red, he looks disapprovingly at the skewered wolf before retrieving his spear. He is bloody and tired, but it seems like the other wolves aren't interested in finishing the job. Kellon asks the wolf sitting by the tree,  "I don't suppose I could sway you to keep mum if certain hags ask questions about goings-on around here?" 
RandomWombat
 "I do not intend to be questioned by any hags in the first place,"  the wolf answers as he stands. The other remaining wolf walks over next to him, evidently finished slaking its thirst.  "And as far as the Alpha is concerned, these two died as idiots trying to steal some whelps from the hags." 
  "Why the sudden goodwill?"   Gweyir asks, taking a step towards them with silver blade still in hand. The still-wounded Spider backs away without taking its many eyes off of the two werewolves.

 "We do not see eye to eye with the current Alpha,"  the second wolf speaks, in a female voice with the same accent as the first.  "And you took down two of his followers." 
 "So put them down, and let us call it an exchange of favors. So long as you get lost before the rest of the hunting pack stumbles upon us,"  the first speaks, again.  "Else we may have to eat you anyways. To keep up appearances."  Lips peel back into a fearsome toothy smile.
Prehysterical
Well, don't question a fair wind. Kellon shrugs.  "Fair enough, that."  He plants the spear into the ground and grabs hold of the ghostly trident, heaving the wolf down onto the ground and finishing him with a firm stab.

Kellon motions Spider over.  "C'mere, lad, let your old uncle heal up some of those bites." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Cure Wounds on Spider:  (1d8+3)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Gweyir steps over to the second unconscious wolf and uses her silver sword to cleanly finish it off. She fixes the two 'friendly' werewolves with a glare and waves the children over to Kellon.   "He's right, let's move before more of them show up."  

Crawling over with a limp, Spider's bite is soon mended by magic. Gweyir's magic flickers in the air around Kellon, patching up some of his bites and scratches as well.  "You're my uncle?"  Spider asks, looking up with eight curious eyes.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Balm heals Kellon for  4 .
 


Soon their group is on the move again, wary of both hags in the air and werewolves in the brush. At the same time, they draw nearer to familiar territory. To their right, the forest opens up to reveal the incline of the Barovian countryside, and the well-trod old road.
Prehysterical
Kellon laughs good-naturedly at Spider's question.  "Nay, lad, I'm not actually your uncle, but I'd be hard-pressed to find a better nephew!" 

As the children approach, the spiritual trident finally dissipates. Kellon takes up his spear again and hefts the unconscious boy from Freek.  "Good job, lad,"  Kellon compliments him.  "Very brave of you to keep the others safe." 

They move on, not wanting to press their luck. It gives Kellon time to reflect on the consequences of the fight. He was bitten, that's for sure, but he doesn't know what that means. Is he at risk now? Does the werewolf curse even affect tortles? Or would he become something else, if anything? A conference with Gweyir is in order, but not while the children are scared and vulnerable in the woods.

As they approach the eastern fringe of the forest, Kellon comments,  "I'm not ready to trust the road just yet. We should make for the old campsite. I rather like Spider's suggestion of a cobweb cover for our little sanctuary. Fingers crossed that the local blights got the message the first time around..." 
RandomWombat
With a small nod, Freek 'helps' lift the other boy up to Kellon. The boy's been unconscious for a long time, which might been he's been poisoned or drugged.

 "Aww, thank you! You're a really neat uncle too!" 

Gweyir looks longingly towards Barovia village, but nods and turns away.   "We should be getting close to the old campsite. It should still have come webs up from last time, right?"   Her elven eyes scan the forest ahead and she points the way, then allows Spider to take the lead again while she covers their tracks.

Soon, Kellon starts to recognize familiar landmarks as well. The crags of the cliffs, the bat caves looming above, and Spider's giant lingering cobwebs.
Prehysterical
Kellon keeps a firm grip on the Spear of Light, though he does not activate its radiance. There is no guarantee that their previous shelter remains unoccupied...
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Perception:  (1d20+3)[ 8 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Kellon takes a quick look around, as Spider crawls up onto the crags to reach its old webs and continue its work. Gweyir sheathes the silver sword and peers around as well.

Everything seems quiet, apart from the sounds of the night. Distant animals, buzzing and chirping insects, the wind in the leaves.
Prehysterical
Well, nothing is immediately amiss. Kellon sets out his own bedroll and lays the unstirring child down upon it. He gives his winter blanket to Freek.  "I've only got the one, unfortunately. You'll just have to share,"  he tells the boy while looking between him and Myrtle.

Kellon tells Gweyir,  "I will take first watch while Spider does his work. Get some rest, Gweyir." 
RandomWombat
Taking the blanket, Freek wraps it around his shoulders, and Myrtle's, and the two of them huddle against the craggy wall, seeming more comfortable with something solid at their back.

Gweyir plants her sword in the ground beside her and sits down, crossing her legs.   "Alright. Just remember, I'm a word away. Elf."   Closing her eyes, she steadies her breath and settles into meditation.   "And both of you, a little parting gift,"   she speaks softly, magic flowing out to mend Kellon and Spider's wounds.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Healing Word heals Spider for  4 , and Kellon for  6 .
 

 "I can keep watch for you!"  Spider volunteers cheerfully from above, weaving a canopy of webbing above the group to shield them from view from the air. Spider cleverly plucks branches and leaves from nearby trees, sticking them to the webbing to act as camouflage.
Prehysterical
It takes Kellon a second before he remembers that Gweyir needs only meditation, not sleep. When Spider reassures him, Kellon reluctantly concedes.  "Well... if you say so."  The tortle only feels partially guilty as he retracts into his shell.
RandomWombat
The camp settles into sleep. It feels like a particularly short and restless sleep, drifting from the late night into the day. Not an unfamiliar situation, and the campsite around Anton's grave evokes a feeling of deja vu as Kellon awakens in the morning, groggy.

As before, Gweyir has awakened early and picked a few things to supplement the dried rations. The pickings are a little more slim after already resting here the previous night, but a bowl of dry trail mix and a few berries fills the belly to face the day.

Spider's canopy envelopes the area in shade, like a cocoon from which the group is prepared to emerge. Maybe it's Kellon's imagination, but he feels he will leave that cocoon stronger. Beyond the cocoon, the dull Barovian day barely lights the woods.

Moving over beside Kellon, Gweyir sits down and glances over at the children, still asleep. She inspects the bite wound on his leg with worry.   "You know lycanthropy is a curse that can be spread by bite, right?"   she asks as she feels around the wound. With a combination of healing magic and rest it has closed up, but the area is still tender.   "I don't really know the early signs and symptoms, aside from unusual hair growth."   Looking up at Kellon, she reaches up and guides him to turn his head one way, and then the other.   "For you, any hair growth is unusual. I don't see anything."  
Prehysterical
As Kellon wakes, he muses that they should just establish their own little sanctuary out here at this rate. Build a little shack, invite the neighbors over...

He accepts the breakfast with thanks, but gives her some bad news.  "That's the last of our rations. We'll either need to hunt some up ourselves or buy them in town." 

Indeed, despite his grogginess, Kellon feels somehow more attuned to his god. Perhaps his feat of arms yesterday earned Poseidon's favor.

Kellon sighs as Gweyir questions him.  "Aye, I know, but I didn't want to discuss it in front of the little ones. I don't have a clue, either. We should sail under the assumption that I did catch it, so that means it's the bilge for me. Perhaps the priest at the temple of the Morninglord can help us. Of course, none of that will matter if the hags catch us before we reach the city walls." 

He goes over to their sleeping babe, a claw trying to instill some measure of life into the boy.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Lesser Restoration on the child.
 
RandomWombat
  "I do know that it is possible to lift the curse like any other, so long as the cursed does not surrender to it,"   Gweyir adds, trying to sound hopeful.   "Perhaps the local priest is able to dispel curses?"   She plucks a berry from the bowl of breakfast mix and stands up.   "If you start to feel anything strange, just let me know. I'll get the rest of the kids up."  

As she goes over to rouse Freek and Myrtle, the yet unnamed child lying in the bedroll starts to stir after Kellon's spell. As the boy's eyes flutter open, they are filled with groggy confusion, and his eyes settle on the strange turtle man above him.  "Ma? Am I dreaming?"  he looks around, trying to sit up and find his mother.
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head sadly.  "Sorry to say, little one, but this is no dream. My name is Kellon. We rescued you from an awful hag lady. What's your name, sailor?" 
RandomWombat
 "I'm Lucian. What's a sailor? Why are you a turtle? Where are my parents?"  the boy asks in rapid fire, getting up from the bedroll.
Prehysterical
Kellon tries to calm him by placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.  "Woah, woah, boyo! One question at a time! The three of us are outsiders from lands beyond Barovia. I am a tortle, one of the islandfolk. Your parents are back in the village just east of here, though I'm afraid you may not get a warm homecoming."  He cannot mask the sadness in his voice.  "You see... Your parents traded you away. I'm sorry, lad, there's no easy way to say this. We need to find you a home where people will take better care of you." 
RandomWombat
The boy stares up at Kellon and then tries to push off his claw and run away.  "You're lying!"  The boy doesn't get far before tripping over some of Spider's webbing and getting stuck to it, which rouses Spider to crawl over to the edge of the canopy and check. Lucian begins to cry out loud.

Gweyir quickly gets up from her spot crouched next to the other two children, and run over.   "Shhh, shh, the hags might still be searching!"   Pulling away his blanket, Freek gets up and takes a few tentative steps over.

 "It's really true, the old lady took us away too. Our parents gave us up,"  Freek explains, trying to get through to the other boy. Lucian gradually quiets down, but sniffles and tries frustratedly to pull away from the webbing.

Gweyir gently holds his leg still and cuts it free, then checks on a scrape he got on his arm from the fall. She cleans it a little with the contents of her waterskin, and bandages it with some cloth.   "We need to be quiet right now, okay. We're almost back to the village."  
 "They're gonna bring us to Ismark and Ireena,"  Freek adds, hopefully.
Prehysterical
Kellon would be the first to admit that he has never been particularly good with children. Thankfully, Gweyir has him covered in that regard. He pulls out the wooden bowl and alchemy jug to begin pouring water.  "Just a little longer now, little ones."  Taking a swig himself, Kellon pours a new bowl.  "Come, come, have a drink. I'm sure that you all must be thirsty." 
RandomWombat
The bowl is quietly passed around as Lucian wipes his face and nose with his sleeve. Gweyir helps the boy take a drink, and then Spider.   "Don't worry, buddy. Spider's friendly."   The last of the ration bowl is passed around, as well, each of the children taking a few bites of food.
Prehysterical
Everything is put away and Kellon grabs his spear.  "All right, pleasant as it would be to hide away in here and start a new lives for ourselves, we should get moving. The village is out best bet. On our way down to the residence, we should stop and see how Sokol and his wife are doing." 
RandomWombat
With their camping equipment packed, the group begins to set out through the woods. And then, they emerge into the open. A few days ago, the sight of Barovia village was confusing, ominous, and disappointing. Now it's knowing that they made it back in one piece.

Then Kellon glances up at the sky behind them... and sees nothing. Just the open, overcast sky. No cackling hags or watching ravens.

Past the graveyard and the worn, scratched and battered chapel. They can see the main street stretching ahead, and follow it. The sight of their strange group back again, with children thought missing, stirs mixed reactions. Some cautiously draw their children away. Others look confused, uncertain of what this means. One or two even nod at them and go on their way, no dark stares or fearful signs.

Until at last they come back to Mary's townhouse. Inside, Mary is seated in the old rocking chair, looking a little more aware. In her hands is a wooden mug of water from which she is drinking when they enter. Her eyes light up at the door opening, in a mixture of hope and fear.  "You... you're back. Did you..." 

Sokol stands up from his seat on the stairs up to Gertruda's room and he says what his wife cannot put to words,  "Welcome back, my friends! Did you find her?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head sadly.  "Neither hide nor hair of her, which may be a good thing, believe it or not."  He extends an arm to indicate the children accompanying them.  "These here are Freek, Myrtle, and Lucian. We rescued them. It seems that Barovia is suffering from a bit of a hag problem. While we were searching for Gertruda, a little birdy pointed us to a coven disguising themselves as bakers. We feared the worst and went looking for her, but I am happy to say that your little girl has not been turned into a pie." 

Kellon gives Sokol a firm look.  "Sokol, I know you want to find your daughter. Believe me, I understand. But these hags are onto us, now. We won't be able to walk the countryside until they are dealt with. I need your swordarm, shipmate. Then maybe we stand a chance of finding Gertruda." 
RandomWombat
 "A pie--?"  Mary's voice catches in her throat as she puts a hand to her mouth, spilling some of her mug of water onto the floor. Sokol walks over and gently takes the cup from her, setting it next to her on the floor and rubbing her shoulder.

 "It will be okay... bakers, no joke?"  Sokol looks up at Kellon and shakes his head.

 "You are right, Kellon. Something must be done of this,"  bending down in front of Mary, Sokol tells her,  "I will return, Mary love. I need you to keep eating and drinking while I am gone. We will find Gertruda and bring her home, yes, trust in me."  She weakly nods her head, and Sokol goes back over to the steps. The sheath of the tarnished silver shortsword he'd taken from the Durst basement is hung over the railing, and he plucks it up to cinch it onto his belt again.

 "I will be first to admit!"  in his usual cheerful voice, sounding a little more forced than usual, Sokol spins around and holds out his arms to either side.  "Of hags, I know very little! We should speak to priest, speak to burgomaster, speak to somebody who knows things. And  otryad  - squad, we will need. Able sword arms." 
Prehysterical
Disappointed as the dead man is, Kellon is glad to have the zombie back at his side. Gods, when would he have ever imagined saying that before Barovia?

Kellon nods his understanding.  "Aye, let us speak to the burgomaster first. The children need sanctuary while we deal with this threat." 
RandomWombat
 "I will return. Take care of yourself, Mary,"  Sokol says back to his wife as he goes to the door. She nods, still a little dazed, and picks up her mug to have another drink of water. He joins them outside and locks the door behind him, tucking the key away in one of his coat pockets.

Further down the main street of the village, they can see the house before they arrive at it. As large or larger than the chapel, and in no better shape, even from afar. More importantly, Kellon sees people fleeing away from it, and ducking inside of their homes. The sound of battle ahead urges the group forward.

  "I'll get the children somewhere safe and join you,"   Gweyir says, leading them off to the side into cover.

A weary-looking mansion squats behind a rusting iron fence. The iron gates are twisted and torn. The right gate lies cast aside, while the left swings lazily in the wind. The stuttering squeal and clang of the gate repeats with mindless precision. Weeds choke the grounds and press with menace upon the house itself. Yet, against the walls, the growth has been tramped down to create a path all about the domain. Heavy claw markings have stripped the once-beautiful finish of the walls. Great black marks tell of the fires that have assailed the mansion. Not a pane nor a shard of glass stands in any window. All the windows are barred with planks, each one marked with stains of evil omen.

In the courtyard just past the gate, another such attack is already underway. Ismark stands in front of the main doors of the mansion, fending off a shambling corpse in old soldier's armor, wielding a crude morningstar. He has a small wound already, but has already slain several of the attackers. Living wolves are scattered among zombies, both armed and unarmed, their eyes aglow with malevolent light and their movements unnaturally coordinated. Not a sound escapes them as they pursue their purpose. Some of the solves that Kellon sees beyond a large tree off to the side are markedly larger than the others, and more fearsome looking.

A few Barovian villagers have gathered up enough courage to try and help. Two of them armed with torches and pitchforks are already running ahead of Kellon, and he finds several hunters as well as the noble and his hound from the search party outside of the gates. The hunters are doing what they can with their crossbows, and the noble is holding his hound at bay, seemingly torn between allowing her to run into the fight and protecting her from it.

When he sees Kellon arrive, the nobleman looks to him in relief.  "Thank the Morninglord! The devil has sent his monsters to attack again at the very heart of our village!"  The man grabs the gate with his free hand and pulls, holding it open against the wind.

The hunters shoot another round of bolts through the iron fencing, riddling the zombie that Ismark is fighting across its back. The new burgomaster, with arming sword and shield in hand and a suit of ringmail on, takes a swing at the undead monster. But his blade clatters off of its kettle helmet. The undead swings back and strikes his arm with a clumsy counterblow. A second cut drives into the zombie's flesh, but it refuses to fall.

A second zombie in a chain shirt and a kettle helmet shambles towards the Barovian villagers, who falter, their pitchforks shaking in the face of real action. Before they can flee in fear, Spider crawls up and sprays a net of webbing at it, sticking it to the ground.

From around the side of the building, one of the wolves comes barreling in straight at Ismark. Beyond where it came from, Kellon can hear the sound of splintering wood.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Barovian Noble opens the gate and takes the Dodge action.
Hunters shoot the Armed Zombie fighting Ismark for  3  and  8  damage and a miss.
Ismark attacks Armed Zombie, but misses.
Edit: Ismark's extra attack hits, for  7  damage, but the zombie passes its save against dying.

Armed Zombie attacks Ismark, hitting for  5  damage.

Spider entangles the Armed Zombie coming for the Barovians in a web.

Dire Wolf Dashes at Ismark.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10 (Arrives on Round 2)
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
??? - 0
 
Prehysterical
Of all the welcomes that Kellon was expecting, he would never have of such a battle in open daylight. He draws forth his old shield and the Spear of Light as they approach with haste.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
With Kellon now holding a shield, that bumps his AC to 19. I have updated my character sheet.
 


They arrive upon a very grim scene. Ismarck is fighting for his life, no doubt warding off Strahd's agents who have come for his sister. The villagers mount a desperate defense. Kellon enters the open gate without a word, his mind focused on the immediate battle. Shield and spear raised, Kellon strides boldly forth past the wavering villagers.

Seeing Ismarck flanked by one of the large wolves, Kellon knows that he can't intercede in time... physically, at least. As Kellon hurries forward, he clangs the Spear against his shield.  "THUNDERSTRUCK!" 

Time for Strahd to see the Tempest join the battle.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Thunderwave on the Armored Zombie beside Ismarck and the advancing Dire Wolf.
He will channel Destructive Wrath to max out  16  thunder damage.
 
RandomWombat
With a thunderous boom, the zombie is blasted to pieces, the bone and flesh and metal shrapnel carrying on and splattering the great wolf with many small wounds that trickle blood down its side. Yet the beast regards Kellon with unfeeling eyes and a vision that he senses is not its own.

As if in response, more of the pack circles around from the sides of the house to advance on those coming to the Kolyanas' aid. But the strong entrance has rallied the Barovians to action, and they move in on the zombie that Spider has partially pacified. They move to either side of it and spear it with their forks, trying to hold it at bay with their torches. Sokol rushes over to help them. The noble finally seems to get his nerve and moves in with them, his dog bounding in at his side as they rally to strike at the vulnerable zombie. The animal takes hold of the undead's heels and yanks them out from under it, sending it slamming down into the ground wrapped in webbing.

The undead continue to shamble menacingly forwards, closing in from either side. Ismark pivots to face the malevolent wolf, and shouts to Kellon in a voice that says his ears are probably still ringing,   "You've fantastic timing, outsiders!"   The aid seems to inspire renewed vigor, with which he delivers a pair of cuts to the beast.

Spider comes up next to him and jabs its fangs at the wolf, but it jerks out of the way and snaps back, biting into one of Spider's fanged limbs and drawing blood, in spite of Ismark's attempts to run interference with his shield. A few bolts slash past, cutting grazing wounds into the wolf's flesh from the sidelines.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon casts Thunderwave, blasting the Armed Zombie and Dire Wolf. Both pass their saves, but still take  8  damage, and the zombie is destroyed.

Barovian attacks Armed Zombie with a torch and pitchfork, hitting for  4  damage with the fork.
Barovian flanks and attacks Armed Zombie with a torch and pitchfork, hitting for  6  damage with the fork.
Sokol Dashes.

Barovian Noble attacks Armed Zombie with his shortsword, dealing  3  damage.
Tsymbaly bites Armed Zombie for  6  damage and knocks it Prone in the webs.
Ismark slashes Dire Wolf twice for  8  and  5  damage, then heals for  14  with his Second Wind, enough to restore him to full.
Edit: The hunters shoot a volley of arrows, hitting the Dire Wolf twice for  3  damage total.

Armed Zombie gets up and tries to get out of the webbing, but fails to break free.

Spider attacks Dire Wolf, but misses.

Dire Wolf bites Spider. Ismark uses his reaction to impose Disadvantage, but it hits regardless for  7  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10 (Arrives on Round 2)
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
??? - 0
 
Prehysterical
Enemies swarm from every side, but the dire wolf presents a significant problem. Kellon's thunder doesn't do nearly as much as he would have liked, even if it obliterated the zombie. Worst of all is the obvious sorcery at work, the animal merely a puppet for some evil... like Strahd.

Seeing Spider getting mangled by the wolf inspires righteous anger into the tortle. Kellon moves to flank the best and aims for its side with his spear.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 20 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 21 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 10 ]  Magic Piercing
 
RandomWombat
The spear sinks into flesh, and the wolf's body falters for a moment even as the possessing force wrestles to force its dying body to fight on. A bolt flies past the beast's head as Gweyir arrives on the scene, crossbow on hand. Alas, to no avail.

A trio of wolves come up behind Spider and Ismark, harrying at them with their teeth, but finding no purchase. A fourth comes running around the tree, approaching the heat of the battle. The Barovian villages deliver mob justice to the armored zombie, still held up in webs. With their pitchforks holding it fast, one shoves his torch down its throat until it stops moving.

Sokol hops over the body as they pull their pitchforks free and delivers two blows to the other zombie approaching their mob, first sinking his silver blade into it and then decking it in the face.  "Allow me to take the front!"  He announces as the zombie turns its attention to him. It winds up and swings an arm back at him with wild force, but he deflects it with his own free arm.

Two more zombies shamble in behind the wolves. One of them kicks at Spider, and it's hard to tell whether on purpose or by accident while tripping over the arachnid's abdomen. The other moves in a loping sprint towards the hunters and Gweyir, outside the gates. Another armored zombie is close on their heels.

The nobleman steps in and delivers a final stab to the struggling dire wolf, which finally slumps to the ground. Tsymbaly, the dog, yanks another of the undead down to the ground at Sokol's feet. Outside the gate, two of the hunters unload bolts into the unfeeling corpse as the third draws a dagger to try and fend it off.

Ismark is a whirlwind of activity as he slices apart one wolf, severing both of its front legs, then cleaves his blade through into the side of the next. Spider bites into another and it sinks to the ground, peacefully.

At that very moment there is a scraping of furniture being moved, and the doors of the mansion are thrown open from inside. A torch and candle lit great hall is filled with an army of darkness crawling down the stairs towards a woman with hair the color of autumn, clad in a breastplate and with an arming sword of her own in her hands.  "Ismark, they're everywhere! The barricades could not hold!" 

Far in the back, there is the sound of the wooden wall cracking at the top of the stairs. A massive hand of stitched together flesh reaches in and spreads the opening wider, a head too small for the misshapen body of bone, flesh and sinew it is attached to peering through. Blazing amber eyes lock onto Ireena and a bellow rips out of its mouth, flecking putrid spittle out over the room.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon stabs the Dire Wolf for  10  damage.
Gweyir shoots at Dire Wolf, but misses.

Wolves attack Ismark and Spider, but all miss.

Barovians attack Armed Zombie for  4 ,  4 , and then  2  damage, finally killing it.
Sokol stabs Zombie for  6  damage, and punches it for  3 .

Zombie swings at Sokol, but misses.
Zombie slams Spider for  2  damage.

Barovian Noble attacks Dire Wolf for  3  damage, KO'ing it.
Tsymbaly bites Zombie for  5  damage and yanks it Prone.
Two Hunters fire at the Zombie that ran out to them, dealing  9  damage.
The third Hunter draws a hunting knife and slashes at the Zombie, but misses.
Ismark slashes Wolf three times using his Action Surge, hitting twice for  13  damage and a KO. He has one attack leftover, which he makes at another Wolf for  7  damage.

Ireena opens up the barricaded doors from the inside.

Spider bites Wolf for a Sneak Attack, dealing  8  damage and  10  poison damage, paralyzing it in KO.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
Zombie Hulk - 0
 
Prehysterical
In the vast melee, Kellon cannot keep track of anything save the immediate ring of death around him. The dire wolf finally goes down, but the arrival of a woman who can only be Ismarck's sister show that a vast tide is building behind her. The giant undead in particular is a troubling sight, but things have to be taken one spear thrust at a time.

Seeing Spider in trouble with the zombie, Kellon falls back behind the zombie and aims for its back.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 19 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 7 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 7 ]  Magic Piercing
 
RandomWombat
The gleaming spear jabs up through the base of the zombie's head, but is stopped short by the jawbone before it can pierce and destroy the brain - if that old ghost fable even truly kills them guaranteed. Gweyir moves up, dropping her crossbow in favor of her longsword and cleaving through the zombie at the gates as she draws.   "How did the undead get this close without any warning?!"  
 "We  were  the warning! But they were right on our asses,"  one of the hunters calls back.  "Wolves already got a couple of us outside of the village." 

As if on cue, one of the wolves snaps at Spider with its jaws, but Ismark's shield intervenes this time. He jabs the edge of it into the wolf's mouth, shoving it back. Another wolf on the opposite side bites at Sokol, but he kicks it in the head to keep it away.

From inside the building, two wolves chase after Ireena at lightning speed, grabbing at her legs with their jaws - but they are not biting to kill. She shakes them off as they attempt to drag her back inside and away from the fighters outside.

One of the Barovian men jabs his pitchfork into the fallen zombie to pin it to the ground and then jams his torch into its mouth, as the other had done to the previous undead. The smell of burning brains does nothing for the appetite, but does plenty to end the monster. His cohort moves around to flank the wolf and delivers a pair of solid strikes, capitalized by Sokol kicking the wolf's head into the ground. The zombified warrior marches towards the door to confront the growing horde inside.  "We need to get one of these doors closed again, make it a choke point!"  he yells to Ireena, who nods.

 "On it!"  she pulls one of the doors back shut and takes a quick swipe at one of the wolves to try and fend it off, before falling back beside her brother at the other door. The two wolves try to grab at her ankles again, but she is too swift.  "One by one, we will fell them all! Hold the line!" 

The zombie impaled on the end of Kellon's spear reaches out, wrapping its fetid hands around his throat and beginning to squeeze as its pierced throat rattles and moans. A crackling storm builds up in his shell and blasts through the zombie's arms, electrocuting it. It falls to its knees, smoking, and the Barovian noble stabs it through the head to finish it off. Another armed zombie comes up from their flank and clobbers the nobleman, sending him to the grass with it. Tsymbaly barks and snarls at the zombie, taking a bite out of its ankle and yanking it down.

Spider crawls onto the downed zombie, biting and tearing into it.

Many of the undead and wolves inside seem to have suffered some damage already. Nails, sharpened shafts of wood, and bits of glass poke out of their flesh as they advance in a fearsome wall. Two of them stumble and fall over the bannister, landing in a heap and pulling themselves back upright.

The massive zombie leaps over their heads, landing in the middle of the floor with a loud thud. As it lumbers towards the doors, a dire wolf leaps in and bites at Ismark, who fends its massive jaws off with his shield.

At the gates, the hunter grabs onto the zombie and drives his knife in through its temple. The dead man falls limply back to the ground, the hunter letting his knife fall with its corpse as he grabs another bolt to reload his crossbow. The other two shoot and drop the wolf in front of Ismark.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon stabs Zombie for  7  damage. (OOC: Do note that flanking requires to be on opposite sides, not that Advantage was much help in this roll)
Gweyir slashes Zombie for  10  damage.

Wolf flanks and bites at Sokol, but misses.
Wolf bites at Spider, but misses due to Ismark's interference.
Wolves attempt to Grapple Ireena, but fail.

Barovian stabs Zombie for  4 , and then critically hits with his torch for  4 , bypassing the Zombie's death resistance.
Barovian flanks Wolf, stabbing it for a  6  damage critical and then torching it for  2  damage.
Sokol kicks Wolf for  3  damage, KO'ing it.

Zombie hits Kellon for  7  damage.
Edit: Kellon's Wrath of the Storm blasts the Zombie for  14  damage.
Zombie jumps off a ledge, taking  1  damage. Another jumps off for  2  damage.
Zombie swings at Hunter, but misses.
 The Zombie Hulk approaches .

Barovian Noble stabs Zombie for  6  damage, destroying it.
Tsymbaly readies an action to attack.
Hunter knifes Zombie for  4  damage, finishing it off.
Hunters shoot Wolf for  8  damage and a miss, KO'ing it.
Ismark moves up and readies an attack action.
Ireena closes one of the two entrance doors, and slashes at a Wolf, but misses.
Ireena grants a Combat Inspiration die (Bardic Inspiration which can also be used to boost damage, or increase AC as a reaction) to Ismark.

Armed Zombie approaches, provoking an attack from Tsymbaly, which hits for  3  damage and knocks it prone.
Armed Zombie strikes Barovian Noble even with Disadvantage for  5  damage, KO'ing him.

Spider's bites Armed Zombie for a  12  damage Sneak Attack.

Dire Wolf bites at Ismark, but misses.

Kellon's turn; in case the reaction causes a kill, it may need some contingent actions.

And this will be my last post for tonight. Sleep well!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
Zombie Hulk - 0
 
Prehysterical
The back lines are starting to consolidate, but the worst is yet to come. Kellon desperately wants to help the stricken noble, but the zombie hulk approaching is too great a threat to delay.

Looking back to Gweyir, Kellon orders,  "Help him!"  He points to the downed man before moving up beside Sokol. Kellon puts his shield and shoulder into closing the door and sends a holy bolt searing toward the hulk.  "Heartseeker!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon Uses an Object to shut the door and casts Guiding Bolt at the hulk.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 21 ] 
Damage:  (4d6)[ 13 ]  Radiant damage
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Ireena did close that side of the door, so I'll treat that as Kellon being able to resist it being opened from the other side.
 


The streak of divine light sails through the horde advancing across the entrance hall, and impacts the giant undead right in its chest. Crackling energy sizzles across its surface and lingers in a halo of light , stitches popping and fleshy detritus falling away. But its march is not slowed.

Gweyir rushes over and raises her sword up, driving it down through the fallen undead's skull. With a glance, sparkling energy surrounds the noble and he groans, starting to blink awake.   "You've done enough. Cull the wolves, watch our backs, grab a bow if you have one!"   she calls out, before starting to move towards the doors as well.

At her direction, the Barovian villagers begin to execute the bleeding wolves in case any of them manage to get back up.

One of the smaller wolves slides in beside the larger one and bites onto Ismark's leg, but is unable to topple him as he stands firm. As Kellon holds onto the door handle, he can feel something attempt to grab onto it and drag it back open, but he keeps it steady. Sokol moves in beside him and stabs the attacking wolf, but misses with his boot as he attempts to kick it down. Drawing back his blade as if to wind up again, he suddenly delivers a second point blank stab to the shoulder, and it drops.

Assembled into a firing line, the hunters line up their shots together and unleash a trio of bolts between Ireena and Ismark, each thudding into the dire wolf's chest and neck. It staggers back reflexively, but the force driving it neither flinches nor allows it to retreat. Ismark tries to finish it off, but it ducks aside his swings each time. While her brother has it busy, Ireena takes her sword in both hands and it fills with a white glow. With ease she drives it through the wolf, bringing it to the ground.

On the other side of the door, the undead begin to pile up behind the wolves. The stomping footsteps of the hulk gets closer, and it growls in irritation at the pile-up blocking it from its quarry. A second body begins pressing against the door from the other side, then backs up and rams it. Kellon loses his grip and the door swings open, letting loose the floodgates. As it shambles forwards, Spider appears out of nowhere and lunges, ripping open the zombie's armor with its fangs.

Before Sokol and Kellon can get the door shut again, a dire wolf slips in and takes Sokol by the ankle, dragging the clumsy zombie to the ground.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Kellon casts Guiding Bolt and deals  13  radiant damage to the Zombie Hulk, marking it. He holds the door shut from the outside.
Gweyir stabs the Armed Zombie, dealing  7  damage and finishing it off. She uses Balm of the Summer Court to rouse the noble with  3  hit points.

Wolf bites Ismark for  8  damage, but he saves vs Prone.
Wolf attempts to open the door, but fails opposed Athletics with Kellon due to Disadvantage from being a wolf.

Barovian strikes Wolf twice, finishing it off.
Barovian strikes Dire Wolf twice, finishing it off.
Sokol stabs Wolf for  4  damage, but misses with an unarmed strike. He uses Action Surge to stab the wolf again, dealing  6  damage and taking it down.

Barovian Noble stabs and kicks Wolf, finishing it off.
Tsymbaly bites Wolf, inflicting two failed death saves.
Hunters shoot at Dire Wolf, inflicting two hits and a critical hit for  24  damage total.
Ismark misses Dire Wolf twice.
Ireena uses True Strike and slashes Dire Wolf for  11  damage, KO'ing it.

Armed Zombie forces open the door, beating Kellon in Athletics.

Spider bites Armed Zombie for a  16  damage Sneak Attack.

Dire Wolf bites Sokol for  13  damage and knocks him Prone.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Iniatiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
Zombie Hulk - 0
 
Prehysterical
The enemy presses on them. Kellon is torn between helping Sokol and focusing on the hulk, so he reaches for a new blessing to split the difference. His spear points forward in an almost accusatory fashion toward the zombies.  "Stoneshatter!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Shatter centered on the point behind and between the two regular zombies. It should catch both zombies, the zombie to the right, the hulk, the dire wolf, and the wolf alongside it within the blast radius of 10 feet.
Damage:  (3d8)[ 12 ]  Thunder
 
RandomWombat
A resounding boom fills the room and blasts out through the doors, sending everyone's clothes and hair flapping. One of the wolves is lifted up into the air by the blast and slams into the side of the larger, before flopping into the ground and going still. The zombies bend away from the blast, their flesh tearing and limbs popping out of their sockets, hanging by strands of sinew. The hulking monster takes the brunt of the shockwave across its wide chest, cracking the natural bone plating over its softer bits.

As the ringing in his ears fades, Kellon hears a chant behind him. Seven small thorns plucked from the needle blights float into the air above her outstretched hand in a green glow, and her hair and cloak flutter as if lifted by an updraft from below.   "Iwi o ka Honua, Iwi o ka Honua, Iwi o ka Honua!"   she chants repeatedly. The thorns sail through the air and jab into the marble floor of the mansion. Wooden growth spreads out over the floor, and spines of wood and stone tear up through the carpet like the fangs of a great beast that has awoken from the building itself.

Strands of green magic reach out from the spell and weave into Sokol, mending the bite marks in his leg, as the effects around Gweyir die down to a dimmer hue and she continues to chant under her breath to maintain the spell.

The collection of monsters within begin to move, tearing themselves and shredding their limbs upon the thorny fangs growing from the floor. One wolf attempts to leap over them, but impales itself instead, hanging helplessly with ruthless eyes staring down the party until they go dim. Sokol gets up from his back and takes a few swings at the big wolf, but he can't connect as he gets his balance.

Two zombies shamble through the disaster zone to grab at Ismark with their claws. One of them rakes down his arm, even as he fights them off and their organs spill out, bodies slowly losing shape and structure. Several more are falling apart as they blindly advance, and one of them goes limp, seemingly just giving up after getting stuck to some spikes. The hulk marches through without a problem, picking up the fallen zombie and hurling it over Kellon's head, where it thuds to the ground.

Outside, the Barovian villagers continue the grim work of putting down the fallen wolves. As things start to get intense again, the nobleman leads his faithful hound off to the side, holding some of his remaining wounds. The hunters start to circle around to get better shots past the mass of bodies, and one shot makes it through to put down another zombie. Another falls to Ismark's sword, and Ireena places a hand on his shoulder.  "Victory comes! The horde is breaking!" 

Two of the zombies in arms and armor advance. One drags itself through the thorns and takes a swing at Ireena, which she parries deftly. The other 's bludgeon bounces off of Kellon's shell. The last dire wolf attempts to bite at him, but Spider crawls up and sinks its fangs into the beast's face, causing one of its eyes to swell shut and threaten to burst.

Shambling down the stairs, the final wave of undead approaches.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Shatter, dealing  12  Thunder damage in an area. The Hulk, the middle zombie, and both Wolves fail their saves. One Wolf goes down, and a downed Dire Wolf takes a failed Death Save.
Gweyir casts Spike Growth on the ground inside. She spends two Balm die to heal Sokol for  5 .

Wolf begins to move around the spikes.
Wolf attempts to move through the growth, but takes  7  damage and is KO'd.

Barovians stab and burn the fallen Wolves outside, finishing them off.

Sokol attacks Dire Wolf with his short sword and a punch, but misses both.

Two Zombies move in to attack Ismark, one takes  8  damage and the other  7  damage, but both survive. They swing at him, and one scores a slam for  4  damage.
Two more Zombies move closer, taking  2  and  16  damage respectively.
Two more Zombies move closer, taking  19  and  20  damage, and one of them dies.
Zombie Hulk takes  9  damage from moving, and throws a zombie corpse at Kellon, missing.

The Hunters fire, and one of them hits a Zombie for  7  damage, killing it.
Ismark strikes a Zombie twice for  11  and then  9  damage, killing it on the second swing.
Ireena casts Heroism on Ismark, giving him immunity to fear, and 3 temporary hit points at the that refresh at the start of his turns.

Armed Zombie takes  5  damage from moving and misses Ireena.
Armed Zombie misses Kellon.

Spider bites Dire Wolf for a  11  damage Sneak Attack and  4  poison damage.

Dire Wolf bites at Kellon, but misses.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
Zombie Hulk - 0
 
Prehysterical
Even on the frontline, Kellon can see the damage done by Gweyir's magic. He gives an exultant cheer as the undead and wolves find themselves briared.  "Ha ha, good on you, lass!"  To the unthinking undead and their true master, Kellon shouts,  "Out! Out of this house! Stoneshatter!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon uses his last 2nd level spell slot to cast Shatter. The focal point is behind and between the two zombies in front of the hulk.
Damage:  (3d8)[ 16 ]  Thunder
 
RandomWombat
Another thunderous boom rips through the crowd, and the final dire wolf collapses in front of Kellon. The zombies are staggered, but not destroyed by the blast, and slowly pull themselves back up to continue their march.

Moving up beside Spider, Gweyir slashes at the zombie in the doorway, but her blade clangs off of its armor.

A wolf leaps over the heads of the fallen, treading upon the body of the fallen dire wolf to snap its teeth at Ismark. But he holds his shield up and keeps it at bay long enough for Sokol to spear it through with his sword and toss it down onto the pile. The mass of bodies in front of the right hand side of the door is becoming so large it acts as its own makeshift barricade. One of the zombies barely scrapes through and delivers a powerful punch that hits Sokol straight in the chest. Another is able to reach Kellon, but its hands find no purchase on its shell as it grasps from the briar patch. A third is not so lucky, and collapses.

The hulk is again blocked by a tide of bodies and roars in defiance, picking up another corpse to use as a weapon. It hurls it over the crowd and it splays out, slamming into Sokol and nearly toppling him off of his feet. He shoves the body aside and regains his footing.

The Barovians begin to fall back, leaving the intense melee to the able fighters. Two of the hunters announce almost simultaneously,  "I'm all out!"  The third, however, draws one final bolt and loads it into his crossbow.  "One left. I'll try to make it count!"  Taking aim he fires, and his bolt thuds into the zombie hulk's flesh - though it's hard to tell to what effect. He lowers his empty weapon and backs off with the rest.

Emboldened, Ismark climbs atop the pile of bodies, sword in hand. With a yell of triumph he decapitates one of the zombies, then a second. Ireena sets her sword back in its sheath and takes out her bow, aiming over the corpse barrier to shoot another arrow into the hulk. It's starting to struggle to move, between all of the spikes, bolts, arrows, and shards of broken bone sticking through it.

The zombie in front of spider swings its bludgeon, but its weapon is caught by Spider's fangs as their attacks collide and push off of one another.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon casts Shatter, dealing  16  Thunder damage. Zombie Hulk, one Zombie, the Armed Zombie, and the Dire Wolf fail their saves. The failing Zombie passes its DC 21 Con save to stay up, and the Dire Wolf goes down.
Gweyir slashes at Armed Zombie, but misses.

Wolf jumps over a bit of the spikes and bites at Ismark, but misses.

Barovians back away and take the Dodge action.
Sokol stabs Wolf for  7  damage and a KO, and kicks it for 2 failed Death Saves.

Zombie passes an undead fortitude save against moving damage, and hits Sokol for  7  damage.
Zombie dies moving through the spiks.
Zombie passes an undead fortitude save against moving damage, but misses Kellon.
Zombie Hulk tosses a zombie corpse at Sokol, hitting for  7  damage.

The last Hunter with ammo hits the Zombie Hulk for  4  damage.
Ismark slashes twice for  5  to kill Zombie, then uses Combat Inspiration for  7  damage to kill the Armed Zombie on the other side.
Ireena draws her shortbow and shoots Zombie Hulk for  5  damage.

Armed Zombie misses Spider.
Armed Zombie takes  12  moving damage.
Armed Zombie takes  7  moving damage.

Spider bites at Armed Zombie, but misses.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
Zombie Hulk - 0
 
Prehysterical
Damned undead, completely uncaring of the deafening crash of thunder! Still, Kellon is happy to stand as a shieldwall against the incoming monsters. With a mental prayer to Poseidon, Kellon crashes his spear against his shield.  "THUNDERSTRUCK!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Thunderwave. The armored zombie is in the bottom left corner and the hulk is in the top right.
Damage:  (2d8)[ 4 ]  Thunder
Should have prayed a little harder...
 
RandomWombat
Another crash, and the crowd in front of Kellon is flung backwards, either shattered by the storm or dashed by it upon the stones below. Only the hulk withstands the blast largely unscathed.

Gweyir stands ready next to the doorway, to strike anything that makes it through her briar patch. Sokol stands on Kellon's other side, his blade at the ready. The hulk finally approaches, with the way clear. But by the time it reaches Kellon, looming in front of him, its feet are dragging, its once-great body broken, like a ship that has barely survived a scrape with the shoals. Sokol's blade sinks into it, but it still stands, raising its arms. Both arms slam down into Kellon, and a bolt of electricity rips through it in that very same moment.

The hulk stands, a gaping hole through its chest and heart, smoking and stinking of burnt meat. Then the malevolent amber light of its eyes fade, and it falls backwards onto the bed of nails below.

Even as the Barovians behind cheer and whoop in victory, Ismark stands upon his podium of corpses and readies his blade for the last incoming undead. Ireena steps to the side and fires an arrow that sinks into one of them. It dares to step forward through the briars - Ismark smashes its helmet off of its head with the pommel of his blade, then drives it through the monster's skull. It topples with the rest.

Another crawls through the deadly cutting floor only to be executed by Gweyir on the other side. The final zombie climbs atop its freshly fallen comrade and clobbers Spider across the back with its club, only for Spider to tear its head off and cast it into the pile.

One last dying groan, then silence, save for the cheers of the townsfolk. Others are emerging from their houses to witness the scene from up the main road, the rescued children among them.

With a satisfied sigh, Ismark sets about executing the last of the wolves, once Gweyir dismisses the spike growth.   "It is done!"  
 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon casts Thunderwave, dealing  4  damage. Hulk and a Zombie pass their saves for half damage, but the Zombie is cherry tapped by the half damage anyways. Armed Zombie is thrown back and takes more damage from the terrain, which kills it. The two unconscious wolves are blown back and are also shredded.
Gweyir readies an action to attack anything that gets close.
Sokol uses his Second Wind to heal for  7 , and readies his action to attack as well.

Zombie Hulk takes  12  damage from moving, and  6  from Sokol's readied attack.
Zombie Hulk smacks Kellon for  7  damage.

Ismark readies an attack.
Ireena shoots Armed Zombie for  6  damage.

Armed Zombie takes  7  moving damage, and is chopped for  9  and then  4  damage by Ismark, dying.
Armed Zombie survives  9  moving damage, then is executed by Gweyir with  7  damage.
Armed Zombie takes  8  moving damage, then hits Spider for  7  damage.

Spider bites back for a  12  damage Sneak Attack, killing the last Armed Zombie.

Combat has ended.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Barovian Noble and Dog - n20
Hunters - 19
Ismark Kolyanovich - 19
Ireena Kolyana - 18
Armed Zombies - 17
Spider - 14
Dire Wolves - 13
Kellon - 12
Gweyir - 10
Wolves - 8
Barovians - 4
Sokol - 3
Zombies - 1
Zombie Hulk - 0
 
Prehysterical
Kellon raises his shield as the hulk slams down on him, sparing himself a little of the otherwise rocking pain that shakes his legs. The storm responds in kind to the hulk and Kellon is vindicated by seeing the awful beast brought low.

Thankfully, the others have the zombies taken care of. As the dust settles and the din of battle fades, Kellon leans wearily against the door.  "Phew... Another storm survived."  Looking around, Kellon shouts,  "All right, who's hurt? I have just enough power left to tend a wound or two." 
RandomWombat
  "Let us move away from this stinking mess and assess our wounds,"   Ismark rationalizes, stepping back over the corpse wall and away towards the iron fence.

The group gathers in a circle. The hunters and villagers are miraculously unscathed, save for a few scratches left on the nobleman. Sokol has taken hits as well - but only Gweyir's magic can help with that. Apart from him; Kellon, Spider, and Ismark are notably wounded.

Gweyir begins by using the last of her magic to mend Sokols' injuries as best she can. He rolls his stiff shoulders and laughs.  "Much appreciated, little lady! " 
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Gweyir heals Sokol for  2 .
 

  "Little yourself, I'm taller than you are,"   she counters good-naturedly.
Prehysterical
Once again, brave little Spider has stood like a true soldier in the line of duty. Kellon puts away his shield and lays a gentle hand upon Spider's exoskeleton.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon uses his last spell slot to cast Cure Wounds on Spider.
 (1d8+3)[ 6 ] 
 


Looking over at Ismarck, Kellon remarks,  "I suppose the road sounds pretty good right about now... Much as I agree, our troubles, sadly, do not end here." 
RandomWombat
Spider relaxes as the worst of its injuries fade.  "Thanks you!"  it cheers. The Barovians seem offput by the creature - and even more by it speaking. But the aid in their time of crisis seems to be enough to earn respect and toleration, if not affection.

  "Let's mend some more,"   Gweyir speaks, magic woven in her words mending wounds.   "Better?"  
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Gweyir casts Healing Word a few times. Kellon heals  7 , Ismark  6 , and Spider  4 .
 

  "Much, thank you,"   Ismark nods, taking a few steps closer into the middle of the rough circle.   "This is my sister Ireena, who I told you of."  

Brushing hair out of her face, Ireena stands up straighter, having been catching her breath after the fight.  "Good to meet you, outsiders. You're right, the road calls now more than ever... but there is more left to do before then." 
 "You are leaving us?"  the nobleman asks, sounding distraught. Ismark walks to the man and places a hand on his shoulder.

  "I must, for my sister's safety. You acquitted yourself as noble as your title today. I would like to entrust you with the role of burgomaster in regency until my return. May I?"  
 "... Yes. I will, Baron." 
  "I know that my sister wishes to see our father buried in the church graveyard before we set out,"   Ismark says, turning to face Kellon again.   "What other business do you have in town? - I have not forgotten our deal. I do have some information I've gathered, once we have a private moment."  
Prehysterical
Kellon walks over and gives the noble a punch in the shoulder in camaraderie.  "Ha ha, stuck by us like a true captain! I'd say you've earned it. And a fine dog you have there,"  he praises as he looks down at Tsymbaly.  "What's your name, shipmate?" 

To Ismarck, Kellon answers,  "We have business at the church as well, so that works out, but we also have some information that you will want to know before leaving."  Turning, he calls out,  "C'mere, little ones! Freek! Myrtle! Lucian!" 
RandomWombat
Letting out a small, nervous laugh, the nobleman pats Tsymbaly on the head.  "I'm really, I wasn't sure I had it in me. But I guess I did."  He carefully extends his other hand to shake with Kellon.  "Sevastian." 

When the children are called, they start running over. As soon as they see Ireena they make a beeline for her, and she goes to meet them at the gate. Freek runs right up to her, holding Myrtle by the hand and dragging her along. Lucian is a little behind them, covering his mouth from the stink of the zombies.  "Children! Thank goodness you're alright!" 
 "So you found some of the missing folk?"  Sevastian asks, looking over them with surprise etched into his face.  "Those two been missing for over a week, we thought them dead. And the other boy just went missing the other day. Did you find the Gertruda girl as well?" 
  "Unfortunately not,"   Gweyir answers.   "We can't take these children home either... their parents  gave them away  to hags."   Sevastian and several of the other Barovians' faces curl in disgust.

As everyone discusses, Ismark begins directing the hunters and villagers nearby,   "First thing's first. We should drag away these bodies and burn them, before they rot further and bring sickness. Someone give me a hand,"   as he and his helpers take hold of a few and starts dragging them out through the gates, Ireena guides the children away from the sight. Sokol grabs one and helps drag it away as well.

 "If you want, I can accompany you to the church,"  Ireena offers, looking over at Kellon.  "I think I know of a safe place to take the children, as well." 
Prehysterical
Kellon accepts Sevastian's handshake in kind. The children immediately recognize Ireena, which is a good sign. His first instinct is to help Ismarck in clearing the bodies, but Ireena's offer reminds Kellon of matters that require urgent attention.

 "Aye, let's get them safe. I also have business for the priest. We do have some remains with us. Do you think he'd let us bury them?" 
RandomWombat
 "Father Donavich has been in... a bad way,"  Ireena admits, sadly.  "He has refused any visitors for a week now, and is coming to terms with the loss of his own son."  She puts her shortbow away.
Prehysterical
Kellon approaches her and tells her in a low voice,  "I  have  to speak with him. This is a matter that cannot wait until the morrow, or even tonight!

How did his son die?" 
RandomWombat
Ireena looks around at the Barovians still working to move the bodies and motions for Kellon to follow her.  "I will explain once we get some privacy. Let us go to the church for now." 

Gweyir and Spider join them, while Sokol helps Ismark with the bodies of the fallen undead.
Prehysterical
As they walk, Kellon asks,  "Why does this Strahd fellow want you so badly? No offense meant to your ladyship, but it sounds like the blackguard has his pick when it comes to this land." 
RandomWombat
At the mention of the vampire, Ireena reaches up and rubs at her neck, wincing. Kellon notices two pairs of old scabbed over bite marks on her neck.  "I do not know. Strahd has found me twice now and bitten me, but let me go rather than drain and turn me. I started staying inside where he cannot enter without permission."  Lowering her hand, she walks a little faster, casting nervous glances up towards the cliffs and the castle beyond.  "He acts as if we should know each other. He kept calling me Tatyana." 

Kellon's group, and the children, are led up to the old church.
Prehysterical
Strahd continues to be a puzzle. Why not turn her, if that was his ultimate desire? Why leave her any choice? There is clearly something else at work here, but Ireena herself seems perplexed...

Kellon makes his way up to the doors of the sad, decrepit church.
RandomWombat
The strong wooden doors are scarred by old wounds of fire and claws, much like the doors of the Kolyana mansion before it was stormed by undead. They are unlocked, and Kellon pulls them open.

The doors open to reveal a ten-foot-wide, twenty-footlong hall leading to a brightly lit chapel. The hall is unlit and reeks of mildew. Four doors, two on each side of the hall, lead to adjacent chambers. He can see that the chapel is strewn with debris, and he hears a soft voice from within reciting a prayer. Suddenly, the prayer is blotted out by an inhuman scream that rises up from beneath the wooden floor.

The chapel is a shambles, with overturned and broken pews littering the dusty floor. Dozens of candles mounted in candlesticks and candelabras light every dusty corner in a fervent attempt to rid the chapel of shadows. At the far end of the church sits a claw-scarred altar, beside which kneels a priest in dirt and grass soiled vestments, stained from years of kneeling and digging graves. Next to him hangs a long, thick rope that stretches up into the steeple, used to toll the bell.

Getting closer, the screaming from below becomes easier to hear. It is words.  From beneath the chapel floor, Kellon hears a young man's voice cry out,  "Father! I'm starving!" 

The priest presses his head against the alter as if to shut out the voice, continuing his prayer, the words downed out by the screams below.
Prehysterical
Nothing could have prepared Kellon for the utter ruination within the church. At the sound of the unearthly scream, Kellon turns slowly and gives Gweyir a wide-eyed look.  "Keep them outside,"  he orders. His grip tightens on the spear as he enters.

Kellon advances toward the man, asking in a clear voice,  "How can you expect your god to hear you when you turn a deaf ear to your own son?" 
RandomWombat
Gweyir nods and holds an arm out for the children to keep back, as Ireena and Spider follow Kellon inside. The man kneeling before the altar goes quiet and uses a hand upon the altar to steady himself as he stands up.  "I'm sorry to disturb you, Father. Some outsiders have offered to escort me to Vallaki, but I cannot leave until my father has his last rites,"  Ireena explains, coming up behind Kellon's shoulder.

Father Donavich turns to face them. He is a broad man - not fat, exactly, but of a very wide build. His jaw is wide, his nose is large, and his eyes are red and irritated from persistent tears that wet his face even now. His head is shaved smoothly, and he wears padded robes with iconography of the Morninglord upon them. A silver holy symbol hangs around his neck, and laid behind him on the altar is a simple wooden scepter.  "I am sorry for the noise,"  he says, almost too quietly to hear, his voice hoarse and sore as he walks slowly over to them across the chapel.

 "Who's there? Help me! Help me, he's trapped me down here!"  the voice shouts from below, howling in what sounds like complete agony.

 "What is below...."  the man speaks weakly,  "It wears my son's face. But it is no longer his heart..."  His hands ball up into fists and he squeezes his eyes shut, his face downcast.  "I have prayed, and prayed. For some sign, some guidance to a cure, some way to save his soul. But I... I have heard only silence." 

Ireena places a hand on Kellon's shoulder and whispers,  "His son Doru joined an army to assault Strahd's castle. When he returned, he was... a vampire." 
Prehysterical
 "A thrall,"  Kellon muses in response. He steps forward and lays a hand on the priest's shoulder.  "I'm not the Morninglord, Father, but I do know one way that can help. Be warned, you are not going to like it..." 

Kellon steers them to a side of the room, away from Doru's easy hearing.  "Most of what I know comes from old stories, but they have not steered me wrong so far. As he is, there is no hope for your son. While he is undead, there is no cure. But, if he is slain and his body preserved, you might pray to your god for him to be resurrected. I'm not hopeful of his chances, but that is your only option." 
RandomWombat
There is little resistance as Kellon leads the man aside. The strength in his limbs seems sapped, by despair and hopelessness. The proposed solution brings no joy to his face, but some of its grim sorrow does shift into grim determination.  "Strike him down... to raise him again. But- I have not prayed for such magic of preservation. Not this day. Perhaps another..." 
Prehysterical
Kellon regards the man sadly.  "I had actually prayed for such a blessing myself this morning, but there was an attack at the manor and I spent all of my lord's blessings in holding back the tide. If you can bear it for another day or two, we might be able to help.

Right now, though, I need your counsel. Last night, a werewolf bit me in the forest. I have to know if its curse is upon me before we leave for the journey." 
RandomWombat
With a heavy sigh, Father Donavich nods and looks around, lost. Finally he motions for Kellon to sit down in one of the more intact pews left. The cleric inspects first the wound the werewolf left on Kellon's leg. He feels around, the tender flesh stinging at his touch.  "Hm..."  he moves on to checking Kellon's arms, neck, and ear holes.  "I... hold on."  The cleric stands and walks away into one of the side rooms off of the main hallway, before returning with a coinpouch.  "Have you handled any silver since you were bitten?"  he asks. Whatever the answer, he withdraws a single silver coin from his pouch, stamped with what might be the face of Strahd himself.  "Try placing this on your tongue,"  he sets the coin in Kellon's hand.  "The softer tissues begin to show signs of silver allergy first... be careful not to swallow it,"  he adds.
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head in response to Donavich's question. It makes Kellon feel a bit silly for not thinking of it himself, but who knew if the silver pieces in his pouch were pure silver?

He looks up from his seat and gives the priest a snort.  "Aw, but I love the taste of wealth,"  Kellon snarks before setting the coin carefully inside of his mouth.
RandomWombat
At first the coin does nothing except for fill Kellon's mouth with a metallic taste. Then he feels it begin to sting and itch, and instinctively spits it out on the floor. He feels an intense need to scratch at his tongue, though his claws would quickly make that a very poor decision. Father Donavich nods sadly,  "I'm afraid that confirms it. Normally the treatment of werewolves is a merciful and painless death..."  he looks down at the floor, where his son is still screaming.  "Allowing that would make me a hypocrite of the highest order. But I am sorry... the power to remove curses like this is beyond me." 
Prehysterical
Kellon's heart sinks as he spits the coin out onto the floor. He looks at it glumly, his mind racing to take in this new information. The priest had been his only hope for this. Now, Kellon was a liability to everyone around him when the sun went down.

 "...I see,"  he finally says. One last desperate idea comes to mind.  "Outside of everyone's favorite vampire, who else would know how to undo the curse?" 
RandomWombat
The priest stands quietly for an uncomfortable amount of time, and it's at first not clear if he's lost in his mind again or thinking. Then finally he speaks,  "There are two other places of worship in this land. The church of Saint Andral in Vallaki, and the abbey of Saint Markovia far to the northwest above the village of Krezk."  He clears his throat and stands up a little straighter, coming fully out of his moment of stupor.  "I remember, a few stories of men who lived with this curse. They would bind themselves in their cellars at night, collar and manacles of silvered steel, even cages... even then, need to sleep during the day. Or they would slowly wither from exhaustion because of their nightly episodes." 
Prehysterical
 "I see,"  Kellon repeats as he digests the information.  "That... helps. Thank you, Father. But, enough of my troubles. Ireena here has come to lay her father to rest, and we have brought the remains of a few children who need burial, as well." 
RandomWombat
As she's mentioned, Ireena speaks up,  "It's time, Father. The burgomaster needs a proper burial, and you're the only one who can perform the last rites. Once the dead are buried, we can find someone who can help Doru." 

Slowly, Donavich nods and runs a hand through the stubble of his hair, closing his eyes and trying to shut out the screams from below.  "Bring the remains to the graveyard. I will get a shovel."  His voice is tired as he moves past into one of the side rooms.

Ireena looks at Kellon,  "My father's remains were in a coffin at the mansion. I'm sure Ismark and your friend will bring it when they are finished. Shall we start with these others you need to bury?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods absent-mindedly at her request.  "Is there, uh... any way that we can access the graveyard from the outside? Like a gate? I really don't want to bring the children through here. They've been through enough." 
RandomWombat
 "Of course. Right out this way,"  Ireena gently places a hand on his arm to lead him, seeing his absent look, not all too different from the priest's. Spider crawls out ahead of them as they return to Gweyir and the children outside.

  "So how did it go?"  
 "Your friend was able to pull Father Donavich out of his fugue. We're going to give last rites to my father, and to the remains you've brought with you?"  she speaks the latter in the form of a question, and Gweyir nods, pulling out the pillow cases.

  "It's a long story."  

Ireena leaves it to Kellon to reveal the diagnosis of his condition, instead remaining quiet on it and leading them into the graveyard. It is a humble field, filled with simple graves and small tombs that likely belong to prominent families. It isn't long before Father Donavich drags himself outside with his shovel and scepter.
Prehysterical
On their way to the graveyard and while waiting for the Father, Kellon gives Ireena a brief overview of the events of the Death House and the fate of the Durst family.

Seeing the downtrodden priest, Kellon steps forward and asks the man,  "I imagine you're tired, Father. Not familiar with the burial customs of the Morninglord, but mayhaps I could make use of yon shovel? Far from the first grave that I've dug." 
RandomWombat
 "I grew up on ghost stories about the Death House,"  Ireena comments as Kellon relays the story of their dire battles, daring escape, and sorrowful loss. She solemnly offers condolences for Anton.  "I'm afraid you will find no shortage of such places here, Kellon. Curses in Barovia have a very real power, even without magic. I heard of a girl in Vallaki who was cursed with madness simply because a boy rejected her hand too cruelly." 
 "If you'd like,"  without complaint, he softly sets the shovel into Kellon's claws. The wood is old and worn, but sturdy.  "I will begin the ceremony to consecrate the bodies. If you please,"  he motions for Gweyir to follow him a little off to the side. She draws out the remains of the Durst children, and some of Gustav's ashes gathered up into a pouch, and lays them together.

Father Donavich takes out a pouch of silver dust and draws pinches out, laying it upon the foreheads of the bodies and mixing it in with the ashes as he recites prayers to the Morninglord to safeguard the dead from being corrupted by necromancy.
Prehysterical
While the good Father occupies himself with tending to the dead, Kellon busies his mind with some soul-cleansing labor as he sets shovel to earth.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Guessing based on what happened with Anton, Kellon will need to roll a Strength check:  (1d20+4)[ 21 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The work is not easy, as he drives the shovel into the ground and lifts it out, until he reaches below the grass roots where the dirt is softer and not held fast. Kellon's might proves adequate as he falls into a mechanical rhythm, and the task is done without tiring himself out.

While he works, Gweyir leaves the graveyard with Ireena. Spider remains near the children, keeping watch over them while they sit around and draw in the dirt with sticks. By the time the task nears completion, the two girls come back with stones in their arms, with which Gweyir begins constructing a grave marker much like Anton's.

Father Donavich carries over the remains one at a time and lays them down next to the freshly dug grave.  "Is there any coffin, or...?" 
  "I don't think so. We may have to do without,"   Gweyir looks to Kellon for confirmation.
Prehysterical
Leaning nonchalantly on the shovel, Kellon answers,  "There  was  a coffin, but we were too busy fleeing for our lives! I am sure the children will forgive us this, especially considering the state that we found them in." 
RandomWombat
With a nod, Father Donavich lays out the bones on the pillow cases, and uses them to lower them down neatly into the grave, then sets their father's ashes between them. Gweyir and Ireena give the priest a hand out, allowing Kellon to begin work refilling the grave.

During the work, the sound of crunching grass draws Kellon's eyes up, to the graveyard gate. Ismark and Sokol are carrying in a wooden coffin, which looks a bit rough and homemade.   "Ah. Good to see you out and about, Father."  
 "Yes. I suppose the Morninglord answered my prayers at last, with a glimmer og hope... if a painful one,"  the priest comes over to help them carry the coffin over to an actual tomb, likely of the burgomaster's family.
Prehysterical
As Kellon sees the pair enter, he throws in another shovelful of dirt before joking with Sokol.

 "Well, nice of you to grace us with your radiance, your lordship. Living it up at your mansion while us honest folk labor and slave away!" 
RandomWombat
The two of them set the casket down, and Ismark opens it up for Father Donavich to begin the burial rites on the burgomaster within. Ireena goes over to pay her final respects and farewells alongside her brother.

Meanwhile, Sokol comes over to join Kellon at the childrens' resting place, holding out his arms to either side.  "Ack, no time to mount a direwolf head on my mantle I'm afraid. What of you, gravedigger? Have you scouted me a nice spot, maybe with a view?"  The zombie, still concealed in his cloth wraps, takes a seat on a nearby tombstone.  "Can take over, if needing a break." 
Prehysterical
Sokol's levity gives Kellon a much needed laugh.  "I found this nice little spot where all the animals do their business." 

In response to Sokol's offer, Kellon hands over the shovel.  "I thank you. Going to need to be fresh for the journey ahead." 
RandomWombat
Taking hold of the shovel, Sokol stands from the gravestone and sets to work on the pile of dirt. He's not as quick as Kellon, but neither does he need to worry about tiring.

As he works, Gweyir finishes putting together the small burial cairn and pushes to her feet.   "I've been thinking. If the fortune teller's cards gave me a clue about my brother, could they give Sokol a clue about his daughter?"  
 "Found yourself a fortune teller, ey?"  Sokol asks as he works, not short on breath from shoveling. Or perhaps in no need of breath at all.  "What you learn?" 
  "Nothing good. Apparently he's fighting for his life right now,"   Gweyir answers.   "We found werewolves that were trying to abduct one of our rescued little ones, as well. I think it's safe to say the kidnapping wolf pirates were connected."  
Prehysterical
 "Aye, 'tis possible she might be able to help,"  Kellon concedes.

He gives a puzzled look to Gweyir as she lays out her connections.  "What makes you so sure that this lot are connected to the pirates that took your brother? The ocean is a myth here, lass. And how would they be able to travel back and forth? My impression was that Strahd controlled who gets to leave." 
RandomWombat
Turning her head to the side, Gweyir opens her mouth to answer, then pauses.   "Alright, so it's not a guarantee. But werewolves looking for children to induct, rumors of wolf pirates kidnapping children up and down the coast?"   she shakes her head.   "Too much for coincidence in my mind. But if they can leave, then that means..."   she trails off.
Prehysterical
Kellon tries to rein in her conspiracies.  "Let's not lift anchor before we know our course, eh? If it turns out that they do have a way back, fine and dandy, but best not to pin our hopes on that." 
RandomWombat
While their group has their conversation, the Kolyana siblings carry their father's consecrated body into the tomb and move the stone slab back into place. With the interment of the body complete, they come walking back over to the Durst grave.

  "We'll find answers,"   Gweyir says as they approach, then turns to face them.

  "Thank you for waiting,"   Ismark addresses the three of them - Spider still off to the side exploring the graveyard and chasing a few rats.   "Now, I have my end of our deal to uphold. I've done some investigation around town while you were gone. At about the right time, a lone girl was seen leaving the village down the road to Vallaki,"   he explains.   "One of the village hunters attempted to warn her not to go, but she refused to listen. There were also rumors of an old woman stuffing a young boy into a bag, but I could not find her."  
Prehysterical
Kellon growls in frustration.  "Then we're no better off. We heard the exact same thing. The old woman you speak of is a hag named Morgan, and the boy that she stuffed into a sack was Lucian."  His head turns to look at the young boy.  "There's something you should know... We rescued these children from the old mill to the west of here. The 'Bonegrinder', I think it's called. The hags were already furious when we rescued Lucian. Now, they'll surely be out for blood. Since the road to Vallaki goes right by the mill, our presence would only attract unwanted attention from the hags. Normally, I would not mind the prospect of a fight, but..."  Kellon raises his hands helplessly.  "I didn't expect to use up all my prayers before we even left town. I fear our escort would be more danger to you than help." 
RandomWombat
 "That's not good... my idea to help the children was to bring them to Vallaki,"  Ireena cuts in,  "There is an orphanage there, run by the local clergy. I don't think they would turn down children whose parents are not fit to care for them, but..." 
  "That would involve getting them past these hags,"   finishing her thought, Ismark rests a hand upon his belt and looks down at the ground, mouth twisted in thought. Finally, he looks back up, mouth set and determined.   "Whatever the case, this hag cannot be allowed free reign of lands under my protection. As Baron Kolyan's successor, it is my responsibility to raise an otryad and rid them from this land."   He turns and looks at Ireena.   "You will need to hide here with the children, somewhere new. When I return the road will be free of hags, and they and you can be escorted to Vallaki."  
 "Brother, you know I'm one of the best fighters you have at your disposal. I will go with you,"  Ireena argues back, but Ismark is having none of it and shakes his head, waving an arm in the air.

  "Absolutely not. Ireena, for all we know Strahd could be watching the hags. Or be in league with them."  
Prehysterical
 "There is also the problem of scrying, Ireena,"  Kellon cuts in.  "Gweyir and I were able to ward off their magics, but the children may not have the mental strength to do so. We need them safe here in town. On the road, they are sitting ducks, but maybe the coven will think twice about assailing the village.

There is another problem... Last night, Gweyir and I ran afoul of werewolves. I was bitten,"  Kellon states with a simple bluntness.  "I want to help how I can, but when the moon rises, I will be like a bloodmad shark."  Kellon stops and looks out to the wilderness beyond the fencing of the graveyard.  "I may have to go off on my own for a while, unless you've got a silver cage stowed away somewhere in that ruined mansion of yours." 
RandomWombat
The new Baron narrows his eyes at the news, and breathes a deep sigh out of his nose.   "I'm sorry to hear it. Werewolf attacks are unfortunately common when going out at night... I don't have a silver cage, no."  
 "Maybe you can learn to manage the curse?"  Sokol offers hopefully.

 "Silver a pair of manacles,"  the priest, Donavich, speaks up. He remains standing on the outskirts of the group, hesitant to move closer.  "...I can come with you to the smithy, so that they do not ask too many questions. The silver can be purchased at Bildrath's. Cuff yourself to something sturdy. That's the best advice I can offer. " 
  "I have need to speak with Bildrath as well,"   Ismark adds.

 "I still don't like being delegated away like this, but fine. You make a fair point about scrying. I will find somewhere to keep the children for now,"  her voice frustrated, Ireena goes over to the little ones to guide them elsewhere.
Prehysterical
 "I worry that I will make too much noise and draw unwanted attention to us... Still, it is something. Well then, let's not waste any more daylight. Sounds like we all need to make a supply run. We are also out of provisions, so there is that."  Kellon looks to Gweyir to see if she has anything to add.
RandomWombat
Catching Kellon looking her way, Gweyir looks up and shakes her head,   "Nothing else to add, no. I know some things about wild shaping, but that's not exactly the same."  
  "If you are still willing, I  would  appreciate your help against the hags,"   Ismark speaks as he leads the way out of the graveyard. When it sees everyone starting to file out, Spider crawls over to join them.   "There are precious few able fighters left."  
 "Where are we going now?"  Spider chirps, crawling along behind Ismark, who jumps at the arachnid speaking, breaking his serious demeanor for a moment.

  "G- ah, the, the spider can talk,"   he clears his throat and smooths himself out.   "Curious. Where did you find... it?"   the man asks as he slowly turns and begins walking again, casting a few side glances at Spider following him.

  "Relax, he's as harmless as a cat,"   Gweyir reassures him.   "Gets rid of the pests too. I think I saw him catch a few of those rats."  
 "I did! They were very nice and fresh." 
Prehysterical
 "As I said, I will help where I can. Once the eye of the gods shines down on me, however, I will be a foe rather than a friend." 

Kellon tries (perhaps unsuccessfully) to suppress a snicker at Ismarck's lapse of composure.  "We found Spider when we were investigating the Durst house here in town. Those children that we just buried? Those were the Durst children, Rose and Thorn." 
RandomWombat
  "Ah,"   Ismark states curtly, in a voice that says he understands no more about Spider than before.   "Many travelers have gone into that house never to return. To return and lay to rest the Durst children after all these years? An impressive feat,"   he compliments.

  "We don't know much more than that about Spider ourselves. Spider's got a very simple way of looking at things."   Their bizarre procession carries on down the street. Burying the children has taken up several hours now, and the noonday sun hangs somewhere above the clouds. Pangs of hunger start to gnaw, and Gweyir's stomach growls.   "I think one thing we and Spider can agree on though, is that being hungry is no fun. Once we get these manacles commissioned we should get some food in us. Living off of nuts and berries is great, but I could use something more substantial."  
  "The tavern's food is serviceable,"   the response doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but beggars can't be choosers.

Passing through the square, they find themselves in front of Bildrath's Mercantile. The windows are drawn shut with heavy curtains, but the light is on and an 'Open' sign hangs upon the door. Sokol steps aside to wait outside, and taps Spider on the back to usher their eight legged friend to wait with him. Stepping inside, the rest are greeted by the warmth of the indoors away from the cold wind, lit by covered torch sconces on the walls. The wood flooring, paneling of the walls, the rafters, and the shelves stocked with all manner of goods are all in fine condition. This place has fared well the weather of ill fortune that other Barovian residences have suffered, even those of the nobles.

At its heart is a man hunched over the counter, wearing a long brown coat and a red cap that sits loosely over his greasy, greying hair. As soon as the group comes in, an characteristically un-Barovian smile stretches across his lips, calling to Kellon's mind the Vistani peddler H'dirus.   "Welcome to Bildrath's Mercantile,"   the man holds out his arms to either side, drawing attention to the array of weapons, armor, arrows, rations, even scrolls on display.   "I don't recognize you two. New in town?"   he asks Gweyir and Kellon.
Prehysterical
Something about this place stinks to high heaven. When so much of Barovia is suffering and struggling, why is this place in such good condition? Was this man uncaring of how people lived?

Kellon nods.  "Aye, and we're in desperate need of supplies. Mind if we have a look around?" 
RandomWombat
  "Wouldn't be a very successful business if I did,"   the man answers coyly, but motions with his hand for Kellon and the others to go ahead, then leans forwards on arms folded upon the table.   "Long as you're looking and not touching anything you not buying, we have no problems."  
  "You should conduct any business with him first, I don't think he'll like what I have to ask,"   Ismark remarks, quietly. Bildrath raises a brow at the whispering, but says nothing and keeps an eye on the group as they spread out.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception 
Kellon spies on one of the shelves on a small display stand, a silver-ringed Tarokka card depicting a Vistana garbed in long flowing cloth and sitting upon a cushion, with the title 'Merchant'.
 


Father Donavich walks over to a rack of metal ingots, while Gweyir draws Kellon's attention to one containing jars of preserved, smoked meats, nuts, dried slices of fruit, and other foods good for the trail. Alongside them are waterskins and other basic travel supplies for sale.
Prehysterical
Trying not to be in too big of a hurry, Kellon goes to pick up the tarot card before joining Gweyir in procuring supplies.

Kellon walks up to the counter with a healthy variety of dried food stuffs, a new waterskin, and the tarot card. He makes sure to carefully count out the money before sliding it over to the merchant.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
3 sp for a waterskin
19 gp + 10 sp for the tarot card
42 sp for 7 days' worth of trail rations
Total payment is 19 gold and 56 silver.. leaving Kellon with only 3 silver to his name.
 
RandomWombat
As Kellon lays out the items on the counter, Bildrath counts out his payment. Donavich brings over an ingot of silver and places it on the counter.   "I will be purchasing the silver,"   Ismark states, walking forwards and taking out his coin purse when he sees Kellon pause in his counting. He counts out twenty gold pieces onto the counter next to it.

Bildrath scoops up the coins and opens up a locked box beneath the counter, into which he deposits them.   "Pleasure doing business with you,"   the man states with a toothy smile.   "And good to see you out and about, Father."  
 "Mn,"  the priest utters a non-committal grunt.

  "There is one other matter, Bildrath,"   Ismark states, patting the scabbard of his longsword.   "There are hags in Barovian territory. I'm putting together an otryad-"  
  "No,"   cutting him off before he can finish, Bildrath pushes up off of the counter and slaps the edge lightly with his hand.   "Not happening."  
  "It's not your decision to make, Bildrath. The boy is old enou-"  
  "The boy is not fit to make his own decisions,"   Bildrath counters, jutting an accusing finger out at Ismark.   " Some of us  are not fool enough to allow our children out to die in pointless battles."   His words seem to sting Father Donavich, who turns around away from the counter and stares at the wall.

As the two men argue with raising voices, heavy footsteps come from in the back and a large young man with a soft face and arms like tree trunks marches in through a door behind the counter, a full head above the tall and lean Ismark. He is built like a miniaturized version of the zombie hulk, and looks like he could deadlift Kellon off the floor.   "Sh'wrong uncle? Ohoy! Mishter Ishmark,"   the man reaches over and stretches over the counter to shake Ismark's hand excitedly, his voice a lisp from a missing tooth at the fore of his mouth.

  "Nice to see you again, Parpol,"   shaking the young man's hand, Ismark smiles, then immediately rubs his hand with a wince in his eyes when the large hand pulls back.

  "Aww, you can call me Parriwimple like errybody elshe Mishter Ishmark."  
  " Mister Ismark  was just leaving,"   interrupts Bildrath, trying and failing to push the mountain of a man back towards the door.

  "I need some help-"  
  "No."  
  "By my right and responsibility as Baron of-"  

Bildrath spins around and points a finger at Ismark again,   "Last I checked, there was no ceremony for you to officially take that title, boy, and that means that you are not Baron of ****. When you get your paperwork in order, you can come back. And if you finish that sentence next time, it will be the  last time  you set foot in this store as a customer. Do you understand?"  

The huge boy looks sadly between the two as they bicker, but shrinks away from the argument rather than interject.
Prehysterical
On the subject of the... boy? man? Kellon stays silent. He does not know the law here and it is not his place.

However, Kellon does fix the merchant with a level stare.  "If sending children to die in battle is so heinous to you, perhaps you would come along with us? Go in place of him? Or do the lives of children only mean anything when it comes to your own?" 
RandomWombat
  "Yes, Bildrath. Are you willing to serve instead?"   the fuming man is fixed with a second withering look from Ismark.

Bildrath opens his mouth and stammers, then regains composure and growls through clenched teeth.   "You think I'm some kind of soldier? A warrior like you? No, I prefer to keep my guts right where they are thank you - and the boy's too."  
  "These hags are abducting children,"   Ismark insists.   "Who is to say that Parriwimple will not be a target anyways?"  

With a snort through his nose, Bildrath pipes back,   "It is a good idea to cart him right to them like a delivery service then, is it?"  

A large hand settles gently onto Bildrath's back.   "Uncle, if there shildren in trouble I wannoo help."  
  "It's too dangerous, Parri. Your father would haunt me furiously if I let you go,"   Bildrath answers, trying to dissuade the boy.   "Go on into the back, boy. Got more work to do,"   he pats Parriwimple on the side and slowly guides the boy over to the door.

Bildrath returns to the counter and stares Ismark and Kellon both down across the counter.   "I am not going, and the boy is not going,"   he states with finality, then points a jagged finger to the pile of scrolls in the corner.   "Take the scroll of protection. Get out of my store. Do not come back."  
Prehysterical
The man's furious gaze does not phase Kellon in the slightest. On the contrary, for Kellon finds himself unconsciously flexing and unflexing his claws in anger. For a moment, it looks like Kellon is going to spit out some harsh words, but his beak claps shut. Instead, he takes the scroll with a swipe and leaves the store without another word.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Just in case it's not obvious, he also takes the supplies with him.
 
RandomWombat
The four of them file out of the store and Ismark closes the doors behind him.   "I'd almost like the man, if he weren't such an insufferable ass,"   the nobleman says, turning to face the group with a sigh.   "I understand his reluctance, at least. I would be a hypocrite not to, considering I just forbade my sister from battle despite her skill."  
  "The big guy seemed too soft for battle."  
  "He is the strongest man in Barovia,"   Ismark boasts, taking a few steps away from the door and looking either way down the street. The crowd around the mansion has since dispersed. People in the streets are looking at the group with respect now.   "If Bildrath would allow me to train him, he could become a mighty force for good in this place. But we will have to make do without,"   he waves an arm up the road towards the Death House.   "Smithy is this way."  
Prehysterical
 "Your sister is also the mark of a certain lustful vampire,"  Kellon counters.  "Extenuating circumstances. Out of anyone in Barovia, she is most likely to get snatched up on the road." 

Indeed, the man was both endearing and formidable. Kellon felt that such a person with an innocence needed to be able to defend himself in a place like this. His uncle would not always be around to protect him... That was coddling, and coddling was for babes. He follows along toward the smithy.
RandomWombat
  "Maybe so,"   Ismark comments offhandedly as they pass by the former Durst residence. He turns to look up at it, the haunted edifice somehow appearing more imposing that before, in the way the shadows trace its cracked frame. Kellon sees a few curls of acrid smoke waft out from the edges of the door, like a dragon snarling and menacing with its breath weapon as they pass.

From there they travel north, to a building up on a hill at the edge of town. The church and graveyard are visible from here, and the warm glow of an outdoor forge welcomes them when they arrive at its peak. A bearded Barovian man stands near the forge, searing a lump of metal in the blistering heat. He wears a heavy apron.

  "I saw how light your purse is,"   Ismark says as they approach the smithy, holding out some coins to Kellon.   "I will pay for the silvered manacles. Since my investigation turned up little actionable information you did not already know, consider it alternative payment for our deal - and for your aid to the otryad come our fight with the hags."  
Prehysterical
The house's malevolence is met with an angry hiss by Kellon as they pass. When they arrive at the blacksmith, Kellon accepts the coin with surprise.  "Oh, well, thank ye. More than fair of you." 
RandomWombat
The smith draws the piece of metal out of the furnace of the forge and lays it upon an anvil, beginning to hammer it into shape. The loud sound of metal on metal resonates throughout the area.

Seeing that it might take some time for him to be ready to speak with them, Ismark takes a few more steps away to be able to hear over the noise.   "Speaking of the hags,"   he looks around at their assembled group. Kellon, Gweyir, Spider, Sokol, Ismark, and Father Donavich are all gathered around.   "Father, are you willing to lend aid in the fight?"  
 "It would be unconscionable for a clergyman of the Morninglord to ignore this danger,"  the priest answers with a nod.

  "Then, I think the six of us are likely all the allies we shall be able to muster. Ordinary hunters and villagers with pitchforks would only die or get in the way. We should discuss a plan of action,"   the man turns to Kellon and Gweyir,   "The two of you - sorry. Three of you. You were the ones who found these hags. What can you tell us about their lair and their abilities?"  
 "Describe what they look like,"  Donavich says, his quiet voice hard to hear over the hammer and anvil.  "Maybe I know something, what kind of hag." 
Prehysterical
Kellon had hoped for a bit more support from the village, but it was likely that Ismarck was right.

Upon prompting, Kellon struggles to remember details from their investigation.  "I know that the leader, Morgan, has purple skin. They can fly around on broomsticks and have scrying magic to spy on people. They trade Dream Pastries to families in exchange for their children. As it turns out, the children that they kidnap are then turned  into  Dream Pastries. They had the service of a minor demon and a container full of damned soul larvae. They live in the old windmill west of here, past the ruined gate. People call it the 'Bonegrinder'."  He shrugs.  "That's really about all I know." 
RandomWombat
 "I think I know what they are,"  Father Donavich murmurs, in a hard tone that says it's not good news.  "Purple skin suggests Night Hags. As the name suggests, they have far and keen sight in the dark. When the coven is together they wield powerful magic on par with some of the greatest mortal wizards - court mages to kings and princes. And their bodies are not those of the frail old women they appear. Strength enough to match the mightiest men." 
  "It sounds like walking up to the front door would be a poor idea,"   lowering himself down, Ismark takes a seat on the side of the smithy hill.   "You say they can only perform their magic together?"   he asks, to which the Father nods.   "Then we need a way to divide them. Do any of you have any ideas?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon knew that the hags were powerful, but the priest's words seem to take some wind out of his sails. He scratches at his neck as he suggests,  "Well, we know that Morgan sometimes comes to town to trade with the families... I don't know them well enough to guess if they are still actively looking for us or if they are going to try to restock the larder."  Kellon visibly blanches at the thought.  "If we had some idea if the witches were trying to capture more children, we could face them alone." 
RandomWombat
  "We could try asking around the village, and see how often she comes,"   Gweyir stands to the side, arms crossed in front of her. She raises one and twirls her had in the air as she swirls the thoughts and ideas around.   "Unless she decides to go to this Vallaki instead?"  
  "It is possible that she 'sells' there as well. It is closer to the mill,"   Ismark sits leaning forward, an elbow upon one elevated knee.   "Vallaki is known for its festivals. It would be a good place and time for her to sell - people wanting something to take the edge off."  
 "We could lay a trap somewhere! And lure the nasty ladies out and catch them in our webs,"  Spider suggests.

  "We know we ticked them off, at least. I wouldn't be surprised if they keep scrying at us looking for a chance for revenge,"   she reaches up and scratches behind her ear.   "I haven't felt that prickling sensation of being watched yet today, though."  
 "If a hag coven seeks revenge, it will be the full coven,"  Father Donavich cuts in to add.  "Would not risk facing formidable foe without full power." 

As they discuss the rings of hammer on anvil cease, reverberating through the open air on the final note. There is a hiss as the smith cools the metal in a trough of water.   "Seems it may be your chance to purchase the manacles and commission them silvered."  
Prehysterical
As Kellon ponders the possibilities, Spider's idea is a surprising idea, but welcome.  "Spider might be on to something. One of the biggest problems with the hags is that their boomsticks allow them to fly with ease. You can't fight something you can't reach. What if we allowed ourselves to be scryed at our hideaway? Spider could remove some of the webbing from the top, leaving a hole. The hags would rush over, thinking to take us by surprise, but we lay a trap. When the hags swoop in to find us, Spider can seal the web covering over top. We'll trap them under the webbing and with the trees all around us, we can make a fight of it." 

He doesn't enjoy the questions he's likely to get, but Kellon approaches the blacksmith.  "Afternoon. I have need of manacles fringed with silver." 
RandomWombat
  "It could work to conceal our numbers,"   as Kellon walks up the hill to speak to the smith, Ismark and the others continue discussing.

The smith looks up from his work on what to Kellon's eyes looks to be the head of a farmer's hoe.  "Ello,"  the man greets him with a deep, gruff voice, then clears his throat.  "Grnh. Ahem. Be twenny five gold. Five if you got your own silver. Three if you got your own manacles."  The man's eyes narrow a bit as he glances behind him to the group assembled off the hill.  "Hunnin' wolf?" 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
By the way, how much money did Ismarck give to Kellon?
 

 "Not today, sir. Hags are our quarry. Still, there have been sightings of werewolves between here and Vallaki. Does one well to be prepared. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back. I forgot to get the silver from the good Father down there."  The others might be amused by the sight of a tortle waddling hurriedly downhill to retrieve the silver that Father Donavich had purchased earlier.
RandomWombat
The smith grumbles in an emotion Kellon can't quite parse behind his thick beard and brows, as he scrambles down to get the silver and bring it back up. The smith takes the ingot of silver and sizes it up.  "Won' need alluv it. Wan me silver you dagger or somethin too? I'll toss it in free if ya got one." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon was given 10 gp.
 
Prehysterical
 "What about this number,"  Kellon asks as he removes the warhammer from his belt and shows it to the smith.
RandomWombat
Taking the warhammer in his hands, the smith turns it over and looks at the head.  "Business end not too big. Think I kin manage. Sure."  The man sets the warhammer next to him up against the wall.  "When you need these for the hag hunt?" 
Prehysterical
 "I know you're busy, but we need these done immediately. We leave today. The hags have been killing children and we have no idea how long we'll be gone. Long enough that running into werewolves is a serious possibility. Hags are hard enough; no need to add werewolves without silver on top of the pile." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+3)[ 20 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "Yright, 'll get er done next thing,"  the smith agrees, returning to the head of the hoe, which is nearly complete.  "Come back in few hours." 

By the place of the sun above, it is only just past noon, now. Should the smith finish on time, the manacles will be finished long before moonrise.
Prehysterical
Kellon leaves the five gold pieces with the man as a sign of good faith before returning to the others.

 "He'll get right on it. We just need to be back in a few hours. In the meantime, I suppose we should gather information like Gweyir suggested, just in case they decide not to scry for whatever bloody reason. Unless anyone else has a better idea?" 
RandomWombat
  "Lunch,"   Gweyir answers, jokingly. Then she brings her smirk back down to add,   "But joking aside, tavern isn't a bad place to gather information."  
  "I can look for the parents of the... the  traded  children,"   adds Ismark, mouth curled into a scowl of disgust.   "For one, they will need to be put to trial. But they are also the best witnesses for when the hag makes her rounds."  
 "I may as well go with Ismark. Buddy system! Not terribly hungry anyways, you see,"  Sokol winks at an in-joke only some of them will get.
Prehysterical
 "I've got a trial for them, all right,"  Kellon growls darkly as he punches one fist into another.  "Tie them to a iron rod at the highest point in Barovia and wait for the next thunderstorm to sort them out." 

He sets the dark brooding aside as he is reminded of something that could potentially be useful.  "Ismarck, where did your sister go? I might have something that might help her in case Strahd decides to send any more of his minions." 
RandomWombat
  "I probably should have asked, but she stormed off in a rather sour mood,"   placing a hand upon his hip, Ismark looks down the hill at the village rooftops stretching out beneath them.   "I might guess she found a room at the tavern for the children. There are always people there, so there would be no shortage of witnesses if the hag decided to come. And Strahd would need the innkeeper's permission to enter."  
Prehysterical
 "Well, Gweyir, it sounds like lunch it is, then. Spider, I haven't forgotten about my promise to you. You can enjoy a nice meal while we get some work done." 
RandomWombat
 "Hurray! I'm so happy we get to have lunch together,"  Spider cheers, scampering along ahead of them towards the tavern. Gweyir and Father Donavich join Kellon in that direction, while Sokol and Ismark split off.

Their group arrives before the tavern doors, and Spider scurries up to tap at them with its legs excitedly. The tavern regulars are gathered inside.  "No animals in the building,"  the bartender says apathetically as Spider begins to crawl inside.

 "Hey, these folks saved the Kolyana mansion from a damned zombie army,"  one of the Barovians speaks up, tapping his mug on his table.

 "That spider's right with me,"  another one says.

The Vistani, who had been playing a quiet tune, pause. The elder is not in the room right now, but the woman at the center of the stage tells the barkeep,  "It is fine, Arik. We can let them in."  The barkeep offers no response besides a shrug and goes back to cleaning mugs.
Prehysterical
It is truly heartening to see the townsfolk start to open up to the newcomers. Kellon is a bit puzzled by the Vistani's ability to order the barkeep around, but he decides not to question it.

Approaching the bar, Kellon asks,  "So, what graces the tables today? We actually have a bit of time enjoy a proper meal, for once." 
RandomWombat
The barkeep looks over his shoulder at a small chalkboard and waves at it with a hand. The man certainly isn't very enthusiastic about his job. Some of the prices have been crossed out with new ones added beside them, and the board is something of a mess.

 
 Spoiler: Menu 
 Bowls 
 Each bowl comes with a small dinner roll. 
Rabbit Stew: 3 copper
Mushroom Barley Soup: 3 copper
Borscht: 3 copper

 Plates 
 Each plate comes with a baked or mashed potato, or a piece of cheese for 2 copper extra. 
Sausage: 6 copper
Wolf Meat:  2 silver  1 silver (Special!)
-Options: Steak, Rib, Brisket
Direwolf Meat:  1 gold  5 silver (Special!)
-Options: Steak, Rib, Brisket
Vegetable Platter: 3 copper

 Drinks 
Water: 1 copper (First one's free!)
Beer: 2 copper
Wine:  1 silver   2 silver  8 copper
Vodka: 4 silver
Goat Milk: 1 silver
 
Prehysterical
Perusing the menu, Kellon assumes that Spider doesn't know how to read. He asks,  "So, what sounds good, lad? Rabbit stew? Wolf steak? They have the big ones and the little ones." 
RandomWombat
Spider taps its legs on the floor in sequence, almost like someone drumming their fingers on a table.  "Mm, what's a stew? Steak? Ooh, the big wolf? I want the big wolf, very juicy,"  Spider chirps, lifting itself partially up using a couple of wooden stools set into the floor.

Gweyir and Father Donavich take two more nearby seats at the bar.   "Never heard of borscht before. What's that?"   she asks the priest, assuming the dull barkeep won't be of any help.

 "Kind of soup, made with cabbage,"  he holds up a hand to the barkeep.  "One bowl of borscht for me, and a mug of water." 
  "Hm, think I'll just have rabbit stew, myself."  
Prehysterical
Gweyir's question saves Kellon the trouble of asking himself. As he looks over the menu, a thought occurs to Kellon. Perhaps, if he eats a full meal now, his nighttime self will give the others less trouble.

Finally, he tells the barkeep,  "A dire wolf steak for the lad here. Just give me his baked potato. As for meself, I'll have the direwolf brisket with a side of cheese. Oh, and a beer." 
RandomWombat
Gweyir and Father Donavich each take out some small coinage to pay for their own food. Arik casts Spider a brief glance of... disbelief? It's just about the most expression the man has shown since Kellon first laid eyes on him, but he doesn't raise any fuss.  "One gold, four coppers,"  he informs the tortle, as a nearby serving girl jots down their orders and slips away into a door behind the counter.

Arik turns and plucks two clean wooden mugs out of a cupboard, filling them at a line of kegs along the back wall behind the counter. One with clear water, and one with foamy beer. The man sets them both on the bar and slides the water over to Father Donavich, who catches it with a hand.

As their group waits for their meal, footsteps on wood behind them announce the Vistana woman walking to the edge of the stage, where she crouches down to address them.  "Good evening, honored guests. We've heard many stories of your heroics from our local hunters."  She smiles, her black hair hanging over one shoulder in a ponytail.  "Do you have any song requests? We Vistani know many a song from many a land." 
Prehysterical
Kellon fishes out the coins and hands them over to the barkeep. In the old days, Kellon would have done his level best to live on the land. Now, in a land that seems ready to kill him at any point, he affords himself the luxury of living a little. He accepts the beer gladly, taking a careful swig from the mug. Not exactly the best design for a beak, after all.

In response to the unexpected question, Kellon hums thoughtfully.  "Guessing you aren't familiar with any shanties?" 
RandomWombat
 "Perhaps one or two. I admit, few seafarers pass through, and the Vistani prefer solid ground beneath their feet,"  the woman winks, plucking a few notes on her current instrument, a tall stringed number about as large as she.  "How about I treat you to a few that I do know?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon raises his mug to show his willingness.  "By all means, lass." 
RandomWombat
The woman stands and moves back to the center of the stage, taking a seat next to the tall instrument and picking up a bow much like that of a fiddle. Drawing it upon the strings produces a melancholy, wailing tune.

 " Leave her Johnny, leave her... "  the woman begins.

Not long after, the serving girl brings out some of the simpler dishes. She lays out bowls of soup with small rolls of bread in front of Gweyir and Father Donavich. Then she lays a plate in front of Kellon with a baked potato and a wedge of fresh smelling white goat's milk cheese. She returns to the kitchen shortly after, the sound and smell of cooking meat wafting out underneath the tones of the song.
Prehysterical
Once the woman gets past the first few chords, Kellon's eyes open wide and he looks at Gweyir with what can almost be described as a knowing grin. Still, this version of the song is different enough that Kellon keeps his silence and does not add his own voice.

He accepts the plate from the serving woman with thanks and appreciatively sniffs the food. When was the last time he had had a hot meal? Even before their arrival in Barovia, the ship's galley had hardly been high class dining. Using the tips of his claws, Kellon forgoes the use of a fork to simply bite into the intact baked potato. The warm starchiness does a body good. He livens his palate in between bites with nips of the goat cheese for that cool creaminess.
RandomWombat
  "A favorite of yours'?"   Gweyir asks, catching Kellon's look. She plucks a spoonful of rabbit stew to bring up to her mouth. Spider watches them eat, tapping its forelegs upon the counter in unabashed excitement that causes Kellon's beer to wobble slightly inside of its mug.
Prehysterical
Kellon looks at Gweyir like she grew a second head, smiling as he lifts the mug up to spare it Spider's excitement.  "I know it's been a hard few days, lass, but this was the song that we sang when we buried Anton! For all we know, the pirates that've been through here were from Faerun, as well." 
RandomWombat
  "Aw fiddlesticks, didn't even think of that,"   Gweyir snaps her fingers.   "In my defense, it's a pretty common song you know!"   she answers with a pointed finger, scooping out a bit of rabbit meat, sipping out the water. She takes it in her hand and gently holds it out for the hungry waiting Spider, who happily crawls over and plucks it out of her palm.
Prehysterical
While Gweyir thoughtfully shares her lunch, Kellon asks their friendly neighborhood bartender,  "So, Arik, was it? Have you seen Lady Ireena today? I was tasked by her brother to give her something." 
RandomWombat
Arik looks up from cleaning dishes and points wordlessly to the other end of the room, a door on the east wall, past the staircase and the larger tables.  "Renting room two." 

As the group continues to eat, the door opens again, the serving girl expertly balancing two large plates. Upon one is a large slab of steak that looks large enough to feed a whole table, which the kitchen staff has thoughtfully left raw for Spider. The bloody juices pool in the bottom of the platter, marinading and softening the meat. Upon the other are several strips of grilled brisket, moistened with a mild smelling sauce. The two large platters are carefully lowered onto the counter before Kellon and Spider's seats, and the serving girl shakes out her arms a little after the effort.

Spider is soon back up on the pair of stools to bite into the slab of meat and begin drinking from it. Kellon finds his mouth curiously watering at the smell of the raw meat more than the cooked meat, the bloody flesh making his heart pound harder.
Prehysterical
Bah, bloody fishpaste! Kellon isn't thinking enough like an animal. If he had known that was how his body would react, he would have gotten the same thing as Spider! Kellon begins stuffing his beak as fast as he can to quell the hunger for flesh, trying to enjoy the sauce in the meat as best he can. After this, it will be back to salted meats, nuts, and rations. He takes another swig of beer.
RandomWombat
As he digs in ravenously, the songstress switches over to another tune.  " Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea... " 

Meanwhile, Gweyir picks up her bowl and takes a seat with the group of Barovian hunters.   "Hello there, fellas. Thanks for vouching for Spider there,"   she greets them.

 "A Barovian does not forget,"  one of them holds up a finger to the side of his head.  "Help or slight. You all have done right by this village." 
  "Maybe you could help us out, then. We're working with Ismark to take care of some hags that are troubling the land. Do any of you know how often the old woman selling cakes comes around?"   she asks, looking around the table and taking another spoonful of soup.

The men look amongst each other and chatter.  "Comes by once a week doesn't she?"   "Think so. I ignore her. Gives me a queer feeling."   "I swear I saw her stuff some boy into a bag!" 
Prehysterical
Kellon takes a slight breather as he stops eating to listen to the new tune. Now  that  is one that he's never heard before... It speaks of a great melancholy, without even the pep of Leave Her, Johnny. His consumption of the meal slows as he listens to the music.

Looking over to Spider, Kellon asks,  "How's the food, shipmate?" 
RandomWombat
Spider pulls its fangs free, dripping with juices from the meat.  "It's really good! I should eat the next wolves we fight! Do you like your food Kellon?" 
Prehysterical
The tortle is forced to take a sip as he thinks about how to answer that question.  "The food is good, but your steak looks amazing. I almost feel like I should have gotten that, instead. Still, this is the best meal that I've had in what feels like weeks." 

Kellon makes an effort to try and finish what's left. While there's nothing immediately snapping at their heels, time is still a factor. They have something that might be of help to Ireena while they're gone.
RandomWombat
The group's meal is eventually finished - to his surprise, Kellon doesn't need to struggle to finish the large plate of brisket. It feels like his appetite is a lot more powerful than it was just a few days ago, but he is at the very least sated now. Spider's steak is drained dry, leaving it desiccated and wrinkled like jerky. It could perhaps serve as another meal all on its own, if cooked and salted to preserve it.

 "Do you want the husk?"  Spider offers, using a leg to scooch the plate over towards Kellon.
Prehysterical
Kellon eyes the husk dubiously before asking the barkeep,  "Do you happen to have any butcher paper I could wrap this in?" 
RandomWombat
Looking around the bar for a second, Arik walks down the bar and kneels down to pull out some from a cupboard. He lays the sheet down in front of Kellon's seat.  "Ere." 
Prehysterical
As Kellon wraps up the remaining husk of the steak, he asks the man,  "Thanks... Do I owe you anything?" 
RandomWombat
 "For the paper? No,"  the man shakes his head.

  "It sounds like the old witch shows up once a week,"   Gweyir comes up beside Kellon's stool, placing a palm on the counter.   "Even if we didn't scare her into laying low, she won't be back for a while on her own."  
Prehysterical
Kellon stashes the dried meat away in his pack.  "Well, it was worth a shot... Stay here. I'll be right back."  He follows the barkeep's instructions to find Ireena.
RandomWombat
Through the door in the side of the tavern, Kellon enters a dark hallway. A corner is straight ahead, with dim lanternlight flickering from around it. At the corner is a door to the right, with a number 1 on it. Following the hallway around the corner over creaking floorboards, Kellon comes up to room 2. Rooms 3 and 4 are ahead, as well as a fifth door with no markings, but the cool wind from outside whistling in from underneath it.

When Kellon knocks at the door, a familiar voice asks from the other side,  "Who is it?" 
Prehysterical
 "I don't know if your brother told ye my name, but it's Kellon. The turtle man." 
RandomWombat
The door of the room cracks open and Ireena peers out. After confirming it's him, she holds it open to let him in. The children are sitting around the room looking bored. She's found a deck of playing cards for them, which the two boys are playing with at a small table. Myrtle is sitting on one of the beds.

The window's curtains have been drawn, leaving the room only lit by candlelight. Ireena's hair is pulled back and done up in a ponytail behind her back this time, rather than hanging free, and she has her sword in hand when she answers the door - which she sheathes, as she lets Kellon in.  "Kellon, hello again. Did I forget something? I left abruptly earlier, I apologize." 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives the children a friendly wave before turning his hand to dismiss Ireena's apology.  "I understand. Hard to sit still when your swordarm works just fine. Anyway, I thought I would give you a little insurance just in case. Can't be too careful when it comes to dark sorceries."  Reaching into his pack, Kellon pulls free the Innocent tarot card and gives it to Ireena.  "Here. The card has magical powers. If you can find a way to center yourself through the card, it will help protect you against assailants. If you lash out, the sanctuary will end. It's not much, but I noticed how those wolves earlier were doing their damned best to haul you off." 
RandomWombat
Ireena accepts the card, taking it in hand and looking down at the art on the card. It seems to gleam in the dark, a dim halo around it.  "A magic card. These are the same kind that the Vistani use to tell their fortunes, are they not?"  She turns it over and looks at the silver lining of the card, then slips it into her breastplate.  "You have my thanks, Kellon. So, is there a plan to deal with the hags yet?" 
Prehysterical
 "Seems like it,"  Kellon answers uncertainly.  "The Madame we talked to at the Vistani camp called them the 'Deck of Midnight' or something like that. As for the hags, unfortunately, we can't wait for them to come to us. They only come once a week and they seem to be getting uncharacteristically shy in minding their own business. We're going to try and lay a trap for them in the woods. We have a campsite set up already with Spider's webbing for a roof. If we can draw the hags into the clearing, they will be sitting ducks... as much as a magical monster can be." 
RandomWombat
 "I wish you good fortune in battle, then,"  Ireena bows her head.  "Would that I could go with you. I will ensure that the children are safe." 
Prehysterical
 "Thank you. We'll be back soon as we can."  He lowers his voice to whisper to her,  "If you have to leave, just go. We'll try and find a way to reach you. If you don't hear from us in three days, assume the worst." 

Kellon leaves without another word to reconvene with the others.  "Father, are you all ready to go? Hopefully, the blacksmith will be done by now." 
RandomWombat
As Kellon emerges back into the main room, Gweyir drains the broth from her soup bowl and sets it aside, getting up. Father Donavich has finished his food and is nursing the mug of water in his hands, staring absently at the kegs of alcohol behind the counter.

He doesn't seem to hear Kellon at first, until Gweyir comes over and taps him on the back.  "W- yes. Yes, we should go."  The priest pushes aside his bowl and mug, standing up. Spider crawls down from its perch on the two stools and scuttles to the door, waiting for them like an eager pup.

Together, they make their way out. It's later in the afternoon now, the sun perhaps a little low for comfort as they make their way back through town to the smithy hill. Sokol and Ismark are not yet back when the arrive, and the blacksmith is standing over the trough of water.
Prehysterical
Their friends' absence is troubling. They may have to take emergency measures...

Kellon asks,  "So, are the manacles ready?" 
RandomWombat
 "Yeah. Hammer jus cooling,"  the smith answers, looking up. He goes over to a workbench and picks up a pair of manacles, freshly coated in silver, and holds them out to Kellon. In his trough, the head of the warhammer is resting in the water, likewise freshly coated and cooling.
Prehysterical
Kellon accepts the manacles, trying not to show any sign of discomfort as the metal touches his scales.  "Don't suppose you've seen the other two, by chance?" 
RandomWombat
The touch of the metal stings, and Kellon feels it burning at his claw. The hard surface at least insulates his more sensitive nerves from the silver's touch.

 "No. Went down that way,"  the smith points down the hill, indicating the street to the church.
Prehysterical
 "I see,"  Kellon replies.  "I'm going to tell the others. I will be right back." 

As earlier, Kellon hurries down the hill. Unlike last time, he's fighting the urge swear like a sailor. He hands the manacles over to Gweyir in a manner that is hopefully not too hurried.  "He's finishing up my hammer. Said they might have gone down toward the church." 
RandomWombat
Taking the manacles from Kellon's shaking claw, Gweyir attaches them to her belt.   "Alright. They're probably still rounding up the offending families... does this village even have a proper jail?"   she turns to Father Donavich to ask.

 "Nothing. Criminals' sentences usually judged and carried out by the burgomaster, and a militia guards the village,"  Father Donavich answers.  "Something like this, not really a precedent." 
Prehysterical
 "Maybe 'tis the beast in me talking,"  Kellon mutters,  "but I can think of no better justice for them than throwing them to the wolves... or even that starving boy of yours.

Father, we may need to consider the possibility that we can't reach the campsite in time. You've already barricaded that church of yours. That might actually be the safest place to put me, tonight. I'm sure Ismarck would arrange some shelter for you." 
RandomWombat
 "We will do no such thing,"  the priest states, fiercely, at the suggestion of feeding them to his boy.  "While he has not fed, there will be  no blood  staining his soul." 
  "Leaving to the wolves though, that is more akin to druid justice,"   Gweyir comments.   "Or exile. In this place the two may as well be the same."  
 "If we lock you in the church, you or Doru could get loose and kill each other... if need be, I suggest shackling yourself to something stone. Wood breaks too easily,"  Father Donavich takes a deep breath and recomposes himself.  "The graveyard is too exposed... we could seal you in a tomb. Macabre, but they are solid stone." 
Prehysterical
While the notion is disquieting, Kellon reluctantly nods.  "If that's our only option, so be it."  He tries to give Gweyir a cheeky look.  "Who knows, maybe Rose and Thorn will come say hello?" 

Kellon heads back uphill to retrieve his hammer.
RandomWombat
  "Heh. Maybe Anton will show up to lecture you on the finer points of lycanthropy,"   she jests back, following him up as he ascends. They arrive to find the blacksmith pulling the warhammer out of the cooling trough and drying it off with a cloth.

He flips it around to grip by the haft and offers the handle to Kellon - thankfully far from the silvered head.  "There you are. Happy hunting." 
Prehysterical
Kellon didn't know what prospect was worse... Turning into a mindless beast, or an entire night trapped and subjected to the dead scholar's blabbering.

He accepts the hammer from the smith.  "Much obliged. Forgive us if we don't send any wolf pelts back." 

With that, Kellon begins making his way to the church. Perhaps they might run into Ismarck and Sokol on the way.
RandomWombat
At the bottom of the hill, Spider and the Father join them again, making their way along the edge of town. Kellon is beginning to feel a tingling sensation throughout his body as the late afternoon droops towards evening. Every inch of the sun's descent seems to intensify it. Small irritations, such as a pebble beneath his foot, seem suddenly more intense and aggravating.

As they round the corner, they can see Ismark and Sokol ahead, trailed by a line of men and women bound in rope. There appear to have been two pairs of parents arrested, and two fathers on their own without a wife bound beside them. Sokol stands guard beside them as Ismark steps up to another house. As the group comes over, the zombie nods to them. The prisoners have their eyes downcast, some with looks of guilt and others with blank, stunned expressions. One of them looks like he might still be under the effects of one of the pastries, eyes dilated and mouth hanging loosely in a dumb smile.

 "We find ones who already trade children. Some others, addicted to these pastries but not yet so desperate. Those ones Ismark hopes to find treatment for - not their fault hag trick them yes, did not know what was in pastries. Horrified when we told them." 

Gweyir looks with derision towards the line of prisoners as Ismark questions the next house down.   "Have you just been going door to door?"  
 "Yes. Wanted to be very thorough. Questioning them, we learn hag comes once a week. Anyone who wants very badly, cannot wait, they must travel to the mill to buy in person." 
Prehysterical
Were this any other day, Kellon would feel vindicated to see justice being served. His own sanctimonious self-righteousness, however, is being drowned out by an impulse to tear the offenders to pieces... or just about anyone, really.

He asks Donavich with pointed politeness,  "Father, could we please hurry along to the church? You promised me an evening service and I want to be ready before the moon rises."  He speaks in innuendo in case the prisoners decide to listen it. Kellon scratches his arm to emphasize his point.
RandomWombat
 "Right... yes. Let us carry on..."  he starts to address Sokol, before realizing he doesn't know his name,  "Ah. Introductions later. Let Ismark know that we will depart tomorrow. Our friend is in need of rest." 
 "Understood, Father. Actually, you mind if we have little Spider's help? Silk would save us much rope!" 
 "You can count on me, Sokol!"  Spider announces cheerily, staying behind as Gweyir and Father Donavich speedwalk away behind Kellon.

 "I know a good choice of tomb,"  the Father informs them. Eventually, they do reach the graveyard, a thin blanket of fog beginning to settle around their feet. He leads them to a tomb marked with the holy sign of the Morninglord.  "This one, reserved for the clergy of our Lord. Perhaps with his blessing above it will keep you safe."  Together, he and Kellon move the stone slab aside, revealing the interior.

It is an impressive, but humble affair. Two 'stories' of alcoves along a small hall, like a quaint little bunkhouse for corpses. Four of them are occupied by coffins and marked with names of past priests of Barovia, with three more left empty. More importantly, there are two stone arches with nooks in between their curve and the wall, offering a perfect space to weave the manacles into and keep Kellon in place.
Prehysterical
In the moment, Kellon gives the tomb a more critical look than it probably deserves.  "It will have to do. I hope you're right. I would welcome Lathander's aid gladly, so that I might see the morning sun."  He wastes no time in setting aside his belongings in the corner, putting away everything except the holy symbol around his neck.

Kellon moves to the arches, doing his best to awkwardly kneel with his shell.  "All right, let's not waste any time. I want you both out of here before things get ugly." 
RandomWombat
  "Do you need help putting the manacles on?"   Gweyir offers, as Father Donavich moves back behind the stone slab in preparation to shut it.
Prehysterical
 "Yes,"  Kellon replies a bit more sharply than he intended.  "I could barely hold onto them before. I don't trust myself to do a good job getting them tight. Please, hurry." 
RandomWombat
Taking them out, she carefully raises Kellon's arms and clamps the manacles around each wrist. His arms are a little broader than a human's, and so the shackles are tighter than he might have liked, the silver digging into his skin. He can already feel it burn and itch as she lowers her hands, leaving him shackled to the arch and regarding him with pity.   "We'll be back as early as we can to let you out. You'll need your rest in the morning."  

With a final nod of farewell she exits, and the two of them move the slab back into place. All light within the tomb is soon snuffed out, leaving Kellon in pain, irritation, and darkness.
Prehysterical
Kellon tries to give her a brave smile.  "Thank you, lass. I apologize in advance for the noise... and anything else that happens." 

Growling in discomfort and with a growing urge for violence in the still darkness, Kellon tries to find the strength for a prayer.  "Tempest, you know that I have not shied away from any storm in my life. Every time, though, I was in control of my own mind. The decisions were my own. I fear the beast within will take that choice away from me. Please, give me the strength to weather this storm.

Lathander, this land is broken. I want to help. I want to help Father Donavich and the people of Barovia. Give me the strength to beat back this curse, so that I may be renewed with the morning light. Open the God's Eye so that I might see clearly.

Gods... watch over us all." 

He hangs there, the silver manacles burning and scraping his flesh as he consigns himself to silence. No sense singing any tunes out of bravado. Kellon gets the feeling that he's going to feel very hoarse in the morning...
RandomWombat
It feels like forever, hanging there in the dark. Even were Kellon not doomed to transform this night with the rise of the moon, his position held up against the jutting arch by manacles would never lend itself to sleep.

It is hard to say when the darkness of the tomb became another sort of darkness. When the feeling of the manacles on his arms seemed to melt away - yet he still feels the burning sensation. Opening up his eyes, he finds himself upon soft sand, water lapping at his ankles. Above him the stone arch of a cove hanging there, framing a pale full moon at its peak in the sky.

When he sits up to look, he can see stinging, raw red marks around his wrists. Behind him at the back of the cover, he can see shrouded in the dark the entrance of a cave. An image of a humanoid skull stands above the opening, and Kellon can hear heavy breathing from within.
Prehysterical
The feeling of disorientation is strong. Kellon feels the soft sand under his feet, almost daring to hope that it's real. Looking up, he can see the full moon. He wants to call it a good omen, but it's also the same reason that he was chained... right? His wrists show the mark of the manacles like he was some indentured galley oarslave.

As Kellon looks upon the cave, he tries to glean some feeling about the nature of its presence... beyond its obvious lack of welcome. His mind is clouded, however, and no flash of insight serves him. Lost to any other options, Kellon does the only thing he can do: march into that waiting mouth with its heavy breathing.
RandomWombat
As the tortle approaches the cave, a shape begins to emerge. Reflected in the moonlight is a pale white, heavy coat of fur. Two eyes stare out from the creature's face, dark and deep as a starless night sky. A great direwolf, more than twice Kellon's size, looms above him on the beach. Small wisps of cold blue fire begin to appear in the air throughout the beach, illuminating it in eerie blue light, not unlike the Barovian sunset.

  "Child of the sea,"   a deep, booming voice resonates through the cove. It doesn't seem to come from the wolf, but from everywhere. From the dark beyond the edges of the cove where the sand seems to trail off into an inky void, from the moon above, even from inside - resonating up from Kellon's stomach, in his lungs, through his veins.   "Are you afraid? Do not be."   The massive beast plods forwards, clawed feet sinking into the sand as it draws nearer.   "You are being offered a gift. Only the ignorant call it a curse."  
Prehysterical
Kellon cannot keep the awe from his face as the mythical beast makes its appearance known. Its voice rattles his bones and sets his shell a-shaking like a mistreated infant. Still, Kellon finds strength to stand his ground.  "I've seen what this 'gift' of yours is: bloodlust. An overriding desire to kill that goes beyond survival. It is evil, pure and simple. It is not me!" 
RandomWombat
  "Bloodlust?"   the creature's voice rumbles through the sand, shifting it and causing it to skitter away as the wolf steps closer to Kellon. There seems to be nowhere to go; even the sea fades to inky darkness past this little cove.   " Competition ,"   it booms, correcting him.   "The survival of the  fittest ."   It circles him slowly, methodically, like the predator it is.

  "Not so different from the storm, child of the sea. Not so different. We are both a part of the rules of nature. It is civilization that has brewed this softness in you,"   it reaches out and presses the curve of a long, wicked black nail against Kellon's chest, nearly causing him to topple in the unsteady sand.   "This anger you feel... desire to rip apart the parents who betrayed their children... is it  wrong ? They have  betrayed  the most primal urge. They have  betrayed  the future of their line. For addiction. For comfort. Does it not disgust you?"  
  "The bloodlust is yours'. The fury in your heart is yours'. I did not put it there."  
Prehysterical
The wolf's words stir uncomfortable truths in Kellon's heart. Yes, the bloodlust was already in his heart for the miserably irresponsible parents. Kellon's shaken resolve is nearly physical as the wolf prods him so disdainfully with a single claw.

Kellon steels himself to refute the beast.  "You think me so daft as to think that the blood curse is  natural ? Do not think to tell one who stands in the Storm's wake what Nature is! And yes, the anger  is  wrong. I was not who was wronged by their treachery! The punishment is not mine to give! I do not think myself on par with gods in dealing judgment. It twists my gut to see such wrongs, but I shall gladly turn my anger on the hags who rightfully deserve it!" 

Like thunder, a thought occurs to Kellon. He gives the wolf a triumphant look of irony.  "All my life, I have lived by my own two hands. There is nothing I own that I cannot live without.  That  is the struggle that I have embraced. Even if Poseidon withdrew his miracles, I would carry on. But you... you would shackle me with your so-called 'gift'!"  Kellon holds aloft his wrists to show the red sores.  "You speak of addiction. You speak of comfort. Shall I become addicted to the rending of flesh and the smell of blood? Shall I achieve petty comfort by taking shortcuts to strength and a lack of conscience? Throw away control of my own fate? I am Kellon, son of Stega and Tuga, and I chart my own course! This temptation is no less a drug than one of the hags' Dream Pastries, a celebration of slaughter, not survival!

Nay! I name it what it truly is...  a crutch!!! "  Those last words echo over the beach in Kellon's defiance.
RandomWombat
The great beast stands above Kellon, looking down on him throughout his impassioned speech. As he finishes, it leans down to look him in the eye, meeting his stare. When it speaks, it as as though continuing from where it left off.   "Nor did  I  put the shackles upon your wrists."   Its pale head lifts away from Kellon's own and its ears perk up.   "Do you hear that?"   A pause. Then the sand shudders beneath a rumbling laugh.

  "You preach that you need no crutch, mortal? After praying to not one, but two gods for protection... for strength you believe you lack. Yet there are no gods here save for me."  

Turning aside, the wolf begins to tread back across the sand, leaving footprints that soon sift and fade. Receding back into its cave.   "If you would sooner war with yourself than accept the gift for what it is... then there is no more to be said. Should you ever find yourself wanting for a patron that listens to his pack, you know where to find the Wolf God."  

As the last hint of pale white hair flickers out of view, the inky darkness begins to consume the cove. All falls away. In its place, visions. Fever dreams of struggling in the dark, of howling and despair. Then exhausted stupor blinks itself from Kellon's eyes. He is hanging from the manacles, his body sore and tired and his mind numb from lack of sleep. From minuscule cracks around the frame of the stone slab that seals the tomb, sunlight filters in. And even the thin strings of light seem enough for Kellon to make out dimly the shape of the room.

 
 Spoiler: Lycanthropy Effects 
Kellon has gained 60 ft. Darkvision.
Kellon, even in his tortle form, has Lesser Werewolf Durability. This grants Resistance to damage from non-silvered non-magical man-made weapons. However, he is also Vulnerable to damage from silvered weapons.
Each night of the full moon - which is every night in Barovia - Kellon's werewolf form will run wild, leaving him with a point of Exhaustion come morning.
The werewolf form is uncontrollable until such a time as he accepts it, or cures himself of the affliction.
 


From the other side of the stone slab there is a light tapping.   "Kellon? Are you  you  again?"  
Prehysterical
The wolf's sneering contempt is like a bucket of cold water for Kellon's defiance. He can only watch the great beast retreat into its lair...

He wakes... or rather, comes to his senses. Where the Mist had felt like sucking the life from him, this curse was causing his inner flame to flare too hot. Kellon sags with his weight, which only causes even more discomfort in his wrists.

When Gweyir asks for him, Kellon gives a gargling cough from his sore throat. The rough night has left him with little patience.  "Are you looking for a specific answer, or will simple words suffice?" 
RandomWombat
There is a grinding of stone on stone, as blinding daylight shines into the dark. Kellon's eyes sting and water as they adjust to the change in brightness, two silhouettes standing in the open doorway. One of them moves in, reaching up to undo Kellon's manacles with a small key.   "I'll take the lack of furious howling as a yes,"   Gweyir quips as she goes around to undo his other wrist as well. The flesh around each of his claws is a little swollen and sore on either side of the red rash that the silver left behind.

  "We at least know that the tomb will hold now,"   Ismark's voice speaks from the second shadow in the entrance of the tomb.   "Gweyir says that she was scried upon last night, but the hags did not chance assailing Kolyana mansion."  
  "Did you feel any scrying attempt last night?"   Gweyir asks, casting healing magic upon Kellon's arms.   "Easy now. Let me bandage these up."   Though the magic mends the swollen, red flesh, the markings remain as a light rash and Kellon feels it itching.   "Try not to scratch it."  
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
The silver manacles left him with  4  lingering damage, but Gweyir heals him for  5  with Healing Word, removing it.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon stands wearily, rubbing at his sore wrists.  "I honestly could not tell you... I was more preoccupied by the gigantic white wolf fancying itself a god. Tried to make me give in." 

Looking to Ismarck, Kellon asks,  "Do the hags know who you are? If so, it's no secret now that you've been helping us. They'll be coming for you, too." 
RandomWombat
  "White wolf huh? Sounds like some kind of fever dream,"   pocketing the manacles, Gweyir leads Kellon outside. Ismark and Father Donavich begin moving the slab back into place over the tomb. After they heave the heavy stone into place, the priest wipes his brow and crosses his arms, while Ismark begins leading the way out of the graveyard.

  "I'm sure they are aware,"   Ismark answers with a steady voice, patting the sword at his side.   "I'm also quite confident that they are no more dangerous than the vampire. So, does the plan remain the same?"  

At the gates of the graveyard, Sokol is waiting leaned against the stone wall, and Spider is perched up on top of it looking out to the west.
Prehysterical
Once Kellon gets feeling back into his legs, he emerges from the tomb like a hatchling from his shell. It is comforting to know that Ismarck does not flinch at the knowledge of the hags' ire.

Ismarck's question provokes a thought through the haze in Kellon's brain.  Speaking of vampires..."  He turns to Donavich.  "Father... Would you like us to help with your son? I don't know if you have the prayers necessary, but I am willing to assist." 
RandomWombat
The Father licks his lips, wetting them as he looks down at the ground. His expression speaks of conflict.  "In my prayers today, I prepared to deliver Doru unto the Morninglord's repose. I very dearly want to help my boy. And yet, if we face the hags today, we will need all the strength of magic we can muster."  With a hesitant sigh, he shakes his head.  "We will see. We will see, when is done." 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods sadly.  "I am hardly at my best, Father. My time spent with the Beast meant that I was not able to gain any blessings..."  He trails off, the wolf's words from last night still stinging.

 "Yes, we will see. Evil dies hard in this land,"  Kellon grunts grimly.  "So, let's be about it. Time for stout hearts." 
RandomWombat
  "We know not when or if the hags will come to meet us. When we arrive at this campsite of yours', you should get some rest,"   Ismark recommends as the group exits the graveyard and begins making their way away from town.

Gweyir has a new pack replacing the one she lost in their crossing, and draws from it a bundle which she offers to Kellon.   "Spider had another meal this morning. I cooked and salted the dried husk of meat leftover. It's not the best breakfast, but it should get you some energy in you."  
Prehysterical
That... actually sounds very appealing. Since they will be forced to wait, anyway, might as well try to be rested for the fight.

Kellon drinks directly from the alchemy jug like a man dying of thirst, fresh water pouring down his throat to soothe it. He accepts the morsel gratefully.  "Oh, thank ye, lass... Very considerate. I can't believe you lot slept in that mansion after what happened yesterday." 
RandomWombat
The light meal of water and dried meat leaves Kellon still feeling hungry, but the group's trip north to the campsite goes uneventfully as they trudge through the shadowy woods. The mood of quiet anticipation dissipates as they arrive at the campsite, and find something immediately amiss.

Anton's grave has been dug up, and lay empty. Sitting beneath the grave marker cairn, there is a small folded card made out of stark white paper, decorated with swirling black patterns around the edges. Despite the moist morning dew upon the grass and leaves, the paper is untouched by water damage.
Prehysterical
The sight of the despoiled grave draws an audible gasp from Kellon.  "Desecration!!! What filth would dare disturb the restful peace of the dead?!"  Perhaps unwisely, he goes to inspect the evidence left behind by the culprit.
RandomWombat
Picking up the white folded paper, Kellon finds it to be a letter.

 
 Spoiler: Letter 
 My honored guests,

I offer my deepest condolences for the pain of loss you surely experienced at the death of your friend. And I thank you for your graceful foresight in keeping his body fresh, and unspoiled by the rot and the worms. As I am a gracious host and a beneficent lord, I have exhumed our mutual friend Mr. Burrel to bring him back to my castle, and see to his speedy recovery.

Should you find the time in your adventures, we would be most pleased if you could pay us a visit. I would enjoy to dine with you, and speak in civilized surroundings. A carriage will await you at the border crossroads, in the former hamlet of Goul. It will guarantee you safe passage to Castle Ravenloft.

- Lord and Master of Barovia, Strahd von Zarovich 
 


While Kellon is reading, Gweyir crouches down next to the excavated grave, feeling the edges of the hole and looking at the edges.   "This was not dug with a shovel. Magic was used to clear out the dirt. See, here,"   she motions to the walls of the hole with a finger, with are unnaturally smooth and cleanly cut, as if someone sliced a perfect rectangle out of the ground. The ground around the grave is raised, in a small hill that was not there before, but the grass has not been disturbed.
Prehysterical
Kellon is visibly trembling with rage by the time he finishes reading the letter. He looks in the direction that he knows the castle is and swears like an angry sailor.

 "Thrice-damned bilgerat body-stealing deathmonger! I bet you stole the coppers from his eyes, too, you crab-fondling scurvy-ridden pile of rank seaweed! Not enough for him to wind up dead, but now you turn him into one of your lackeys?! You can take this invitation and ram it up your stern along with the rudder!"  Kellon angrily shakes a fist, seeing red and uncaring of whether the vampire can hear his words or not.
RandomWombat
  "Crab fondling?"   reaching out carefully to take the letter from Kellon's claws as he rages, Gweyir looks over it.   "... Aye, this Strahd is a crab-fondling rat bastard alright. Ismark, you know this vampire. What do you think this means?"   she asks, holding out the letter to him.

Ismark takes it from her and looks it over from top to bottom.   "I fear he intends to raise your friend for some purpose. Certainly not the benevolence he  claims . And by the invitation, he must mean to use it as a means to taunt or coerce you."  
Prehysterical
 "I know that,"  Kellon bellows uncharitably at Ismarck's observation.  "Yon vampire will find that this fish doesn't bite for just any worm on a hook!"  He paces back and forth, waving his arms animatedly.  "We're not his guests and are under no obligation to play his little games!" 

The tortle sits down beside the open grave, suddenly feeling very, very tired.  "I'm so worn out that even boiling blood cools. I'll settle for a simmer and try to settle down. As riled as Strahd has me, I'm going to try and get some rest. If I start snoring, just roll me into the hole."  Kellon kicks some loose dirt into the grave irreverently.  "Only good for one night's rest, the bloody thing... Gods, this land is a curse,"  he mutters before laying on his stomach. This time, he does not bother to retreat into his shell.
RandomWombat
As he lies down, Kellon finds himself starting to drift off. In spite of the rush of anger, or perhaps in exhaustion after it fades, sleep comes easily to his tired body. As he fades, he sees Spider climbing up onto the rock wall to begin the weaving of its web.

Sleep is fraught with fever dreams. As he begins to wake at last, Kellon recalls only bits and pieces. Gnawing hunger, the hunt, bloody slaughter and fresh meat. The gnawing hunger has not subsided, even in the waking world. A dome of web has been woven around the campsite, with a hole woven into it at the top, and one leading out into the bushes at ground level. Everyone is milling about in the light that filters down through the dome.

The weakness in his limbs from failing to sleep at all has subsided.
Prehysterical
Sleep is hardly a comfort, but a necessity. Kellon stretches before standing up, taking a moment to collect himself and invoke the blessings of the elements. As Kellon does so, however, the wolf's mocking words haunt him. Still, he prays to protect his friends and bring divine vengeance down on the evil hags who have caused such grief and misery.

Kellon slakes his thirst with more water from the alchemy jug. His stomach rumbles, aching for even a meal like what he received for lunch yesterday. He could eat more, but Kellon knows that only fresh blood and offal will satisfy the beast within. Looking to the others, he asks,  "So, we have a real riddle here... If the hags are only scrying at night, my magic will be worthless. I fear that I will be a greater threat than help, even chained. My howls are sure to draw them here, even if the scrying fails. The only thing that I can think of is if you aim me like a weapon, find some way to free my bonds so I will go after the hags instead of you lot." 
RandomWombat
Turning, Gweyir regards Kellon hesitantly.   "I think you're right about them being active at night, but... we might need to fight you even after if we win."  
 "We may not have a better option, loathe though I am to try and 'weaponize' something like the werewolf curse,"  the Father points out.  "Biggest issue would be making certain he does not lash out and infect whoever sets him loose." 
  "What about using ropes instead of the manacles? We could cut the rope when it's time to let him loose... but there's a chance he could break out of the ropes too."  
Prehysterical
Kellon gives Gweyir a stern look.  "You do what you need to do to stay alive, even if it means striking me down. I am far more worried about you than I am myself. When the moons rises tonight, I will give my best effort to combating the beast." 

Casting his gaze over the clearing, Kellon suggests,  "What about chaining me to a tree? If I face the middle and someone frees me from behind, I doubt the beast will bother turning around when three meals come landing right in front of it." 
RandomWombat
  "We might have to knock you unconscious, but I'm not about to kill you,"   Gweyir insists. She looks around at the trees, testing the branches and trunks to see which ones are the most sturdy. Coming along to a tall, moderately thick tree with a good view of the expected entryway for the hags, she pats it with her palm.   "I think we could fit your arms around this behind your back, but not comfortably. I could undo the manacles from behind the tree, and out of view of you when you're turned. Worst case scenario though, is you accidentally dislocate an arm, or both, trying to fight your way free beforehand."  
Prehysterical
 "That is a risk we will have to take... or rather, the only one  I  am willing to take,"  Kellon replies. He approaches Father Donavich and hands a scroll over to the man.  "This will allow you to invoke the weapon of your god, Father. I likely won't be in any shape to use it." 

Kellon's stomach gurgles within his shell and he growls in frustrated hunger. He takes out dried jerky from their rations and gnaws on it with his beak. The dried and salted meat won't get rid of the pangs, but will at least dull the edge.
RandomWombat
Father Donavich accepts the scroll, tucking it into his belt with a nod.  "Thank you. I will ensure it is put to good use." 

Watching Kellon gnaw hungrily at the jerky, Gweyir looks to Spider and makes a clicking noise with her tongue.   "C'mon, let's go find some food."   She makes her way to the hole into the bushes, pulling her hood closer so as not to catch her hair on the brambles. Spider crawls up to follow close on her heels. Stopping at the opening, she looks at Kellon,   "We're going to go forage and hunt what we can. We might be here all day, after all."  
Prehysterical
Kellon stops gnawing and tearing long enough to say,  "Be careful. If there's trouble, or you feel a scrying, you get your arses back here." 

Regarding Ismarck, Kellon offers,  "I've got a flask of alchemist's fire if you fancy yourself a decent throwing arm." 
RandomWombat
  "Don't worry, Spider and I know our way around the woods. Isn't that right little guy?"   Gweyir responds as she ducks out through the gap.

 "Do I ever! We will bring back so much food,"  Spider chirps in agreement, following her out.

Standing across the campsite from everyone else, Ismark is examining the rock face leading up the cliffside. Or at least the part of it inside of the web. He comes over when called, a bit distractedly.   "I think I should be able to manage,"   he says, looking down from the wall to meet Kellon's eye. The man has his shield ready on his arm, and Kellon can see he's attached a torch sconce to the face of it since last time they fought together.   "...I feel ill at ease here, for whatever reason... like we're right under his nose."   Ismark glances up again, in the direction of Castle Ravenloft.
Prehysterical
Kellon hands over the fire flask and comments,  "We're close, aye, but 'tis a defensible position."  The words sink in a little more and some unpleasant possibilities come to mind.

 "...Does Strahd have any riders under his command?" 
RandomWombat
  "Strahd has many undead under his command,"   Ismark answers, somewhat unhelpfully. But he thinks a moment and then adds,   "He is said to have eerie horses in his service. It would not surprise me if his servants rode them sometimes. But none of the creatures sent to assail us have thus far ridden on horseback, no."  
Prehysterical
Pointing upward, Kellon explains,  "A few nights ago, when we were camped here, there was a dark rider up on top of the cliff. Strahd has powerful magic, surely, but it makes one wonder if a pair of eyes and a mouth told him about our dead comrade...

Your sister said that Strahd referred to her by a different name. What was it... Tatyana, or something like that? He seems to think that she is a different person." 
RandomWombat
  "They say that the wolves and bats of Barovia answer to Strahd,"   the nobleman relates, taking a seat near Kellon as they converse.   "I suppose after the other day, we can confirm that the wolves are a truth."   With one arm, Ismark waves up at the cliffside.   "Many caves here where bats roost."   He sighs heavily.   "If you believe all the myths, there is no place in Barovia truly safe from the vampire's gaze. Save for Vallaki's walls, protected by the saint's bones."  
  "... Yes. He refers to her as Tatyana. She has told me this as well. I do not know what it means, either. As much as I am hoping to find safe haven in Vallaki, I am also hoping to find answers. A library, perhaps someone who recognizes the name?"  
Prehysterical
 "What about the werewolves,"  Kellon questions.  "Do they owe any allegiance to Strahd, or are they their own force?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
For the Scroll of Protection from the shop, what creature type is it keyed to?
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
 Protection from Evil and Good  protects against all the listed creature types, so far as my knowledge of the spell goes. It's a powerful defensive catch-all, only really held back by the Concentration requirement.
 

  "I confess to not knowing much about the werewolves, apart from the danger they pose to travelers at night. None of the wolves we fought transformed into men when they died, I can tell you that,"   Ismark starts to lean back towards the web, but catches himself before he can get his hair or clothes snagged on the silk.   "You fear that Strahd may attempt to take control of you?"  
Prehysterical
 "It's not that...,"  Kellon tries to assure him. Strange... the werewolf that he killed two nights ago did not transform when he died, either. Was that just a fable?  "You just said that the wolves answered to Strahd and I find the of any evil in this land not answering to Strahd to be very strange. He was very angry with the Durst parents for killing his 'guests' before he could have his fun." 
RandomWombat
  "I'm sure every evil in this land, at the very least,  fears  Strahd,"   the man suggests,   "But it is hard enough for one man to unite good people together in a common cause. For one man, even an ancient vampire, to unite every evil in the land? Unthinkable."  
Prehysterical
Kellon looks warily at the unearthed grave.  "Perhaps... but I grow more and more unsettled by his magic's reach every day."  Looking around, Kellon asks,  "Has anyone seen Sokol?" 
RandomWombat
 "No, have not seen him all day,"  a voice from behind Kellon answers. When he looks back, Sokol puts a palm to his forehead.  "Ah! I have no mirror. That is why!"  the man laughs at his own jest.
Prehysterical
Sokol's wit gets him a small chuckle from Kellon.  "Your wife seemed to be doing better when we saw her..."  His manner grows more serious.  "She was in a bad way when we first met her... Tell me, if it turned out that your daughter was... not able to come home, would she survive that news?" 
RandomWombat
The serious topic gives Sokol's usual levity pause, and he looks up at the tent-like ceiling of webbing covering their campsite.  "I wonder where that Spider puts it all, ay."  He comments, trying to move the subject away. But with a heavy sigh, he admits,  "I think the news would do her in. She still doesn't know about... the other thing, either."  He looks aside at both Ismark and Father Donavich. They aren't intentionally eavesdropping, but he pays mind to their presence and avoids saying more about his unusual condition.

 "But ay, Gweyir told me we are going to look for a way to help Father Donavich's boy, yeah? Solve one problem, we solve a future problem, two birds with one stone,"  seizing upon the optimistic idea brings back the joking tone in his voice, as he shrugs off the melancholy.  "And don't you worry, Father. We will find a way to help your boy! Or my name is not Sokol Sokolov!" 
 "Hope is a dangerous thing when it can be... taken away,"  the Father responds quietly, looking aside and rubbing his arm.  "I am hesitant to let it root too deep. But... I admire your optimism, friend." 
  "Have you heard of the abbey up north?"   Ismark suggests, sliding back into the conversation. Father Donavich had mentioned the abbey earlier, among the possible locations to go to about purging the lycanthropy.   "They say that the abbot there is a great healer. It is a long journey from the village, but once my sister is safe I would gladly lend aid. Perhaps the abbot could even prove an ally against Strahd."  
Prehysterical
While the others converse about the sanctuary of the abbey, Sokol's look drives Kellon to an unpleasant conclusion. He looks squarely at Sokol and asks,  "Sokol, don't you think it's about time that you informed us of that 'other problem'? Before we engage in battle with the hags during the night and someone's help might turn out to be harm?"  He looks aside at Father Donavich pointedly, but without malice.
RandomWombat
 "I suppose it would not be the  worst  idea,"  the undead warrior admits, taking a step away from the webbing behind him.  "But first, I must ask that the two of you do not overreact, yes?"  He looks at Ismark and then at Father Donavich.

Looking to Kellon with some doubt on his face, Ismark asks,   "What is this about that I might overreact about?"  

Sokol reaches up and begins undoing the scarves wrapped around his face. When Ismark looks up again, he jumps up with a start - though his hand does not immediately go to his sword. Father Donavich reaches up and wraps a hand around the holy symbol hanging over his chest.  "What is this?" 
 "It is a long story! The short of it is that I was trapped beneath the Durst house for many years,"  Sokol explains, the sickly blue color of his undead flesh now clear for all to see.  "And well, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?"  the man shrugs with a jovial grin.  "Walk the earth past death, fight some evil, save my daughter! Nothing bad in this purpose, yes?" 
  "So that would explain the smell,"   Ismark remarks, bringing a hand up to his face.   "I was trying to be polite and not bring it up..."  
 "I,"  Father Donavich looks down at the grass and leaves beneath their feet.  "I see. The Morninglord does not look kindly upon the undead... but,"  he hesitates, voice stopping for a moment.  "There are greater evils in this land. Just know that I cannot abide if you bring harm to the innocent." 
 "Then it is good I never planned to! Haha! Ah, those old stories of zombies eating brains, seems to be just nonsense yeah? I have eaten nothing since climbing out of that pit, feel fit as a fiddle." 
Prehysterical
Kellon tuts at Father Donavich's reaction.  "'Hypocrite of the highest order', I believe your words were, Father?"  His tone becomes more sincere.  "Believe me, I shared your reservations at first, but Sokol is one of the main reasons we escaped the Durst house alive. I will vouch for him and his self-control. If anything..."  Kellon gives a black laugh of gallows humor.  "His self-control is currently stronger than mine." 
RandomWombat
 "Know that were my son to bring harm to others in his state, I would... do as I must,"  the Father says, grimly, eyes closed and cast towards the ground as he continues gripping his holy symbol.  "And... I am not sure if resurrection magic can help your friend, either. He has been dead for a long time." 
 "I have had plenty of time to come to terms, Father! And ay, you never know,"  Sokol points out optimistically.

  "While I too am wary of the living dead, I am warrior enough to recognize the tactical benefits,"   Ismark hesitantly nods to Kellon in agreement.   "Immunity to such evils as lycanthropy, for one."  

As they discuss, a rustling from the bushes outside draws the mens' attention. But it is only Gweyir, pushing he way back through the brambles into the great web tent. She's carrying her new bag along with her, the top of it open as she sets it before them on the ground. Inside are a collection of wild cherries, and a fresh rabbit wrapped in a web cocoon.   "I was able to save one of the beasts from Spider's wrath, so we can have an extra bite of meat today,"   she says as Spider crawls in behind her as if on cue. Gweyir looks up at Sokol, who is wrapping the scarf back around his face.   "Everybody's on the same page now, then?"  
Prehysterical
Gweyir's question gets a nod from Kellon.  "Thought it would be a good idea since we don't want the good priest here to be hurting Sokol by accident."  He eyes the dead rabbit, visibly salivating at the smell of fresh meat.  "I know this is selfish of me, but can I have the rabbit? I fear that if I go into the blood haze with no meat to sate my gullet, the beast may be even more voracious than normal. I'll be like a shark in blood-soaked water." 
RandomWombat
Gweyir plucks the rabbit out of the bag, pulling at some of the webbing.   "Tell ya what, manage to clean this stuff off and it's all yours'."   She tosses it over to Kellon.

  "Speaking of tonight. The rest of us should get sleep in shifts as well, so that we are rested and ready come night. As you say, that appears to be when the hags are active,"   Ismark suggests.
Prehysterical
 "A reasonable thought,"  Kellon replies, half-distracted by the morsel he holds in his hands. He tears at the webbing with fervor and claw, his beak diving eagerly into the dead animal's flesh. Eating meat raw does not overly concern him, but Kellon feels like he is feeding a bad habit by attempting to placate his lycanthropy.
RandomWombat
The taste of fresh blood feels satisfying, and Kellon senses the cravings beginning to die down. He also senses everyone's eyes on him - most with worry or disgust at the sight; except for Spider, who has crawled up onto the web to feel for intrusions and doesn't seem bothered by the display.

  "I'll take first watch. I don't need to rest very long if mine gets cut off at the end,"   Gweyir offers, and Ismark and Father Donavich bring out blankets to lay across the ground and keep themselves from losing body heat.

 "And of course, I am always on the watch, yes?"  Sokol reminds with a waggle of his finger.

Gweyir chuckles,   "How could I forget?"   She picks up the alchemy glass to pour herself a bit of water in her wooden bowl and takes a drink.
Prehysterical
Kellon offers his own blanket and bedroll for the two men to use while they rest.

Now, all they can do... is wait.
RandomWombat
Time ticks on, dragging like a young hatchling crawling from the beach to the sea to feel the water for the first time. The 'tent' above makes it hard to track the time of day, at first, until Kellon realizes that the pillar of light streaming down from the hole Spider left above travels opposite the sun. As evening approaches, the light grows dim, stretched thin across the grassy floor and silken wall.

The others have taken rests and are lying around or pacing back and forth. Impatience is clearly getting to everyone, except for Spider. Normally, patience would be no problem for a tortle. But the lycanthrope curse gnaws inside as evening draws nearer. Anticipation.
Prehysterical
The afternoon is spent fighting the snarling impatience of the beast. Normally, Kellon would pray, but this time, he is moved to quiet introspection instead. Tonight, he would confront the beast and he would do it on his own. He had indeed grown too reliant on the blessings of his god in meeting his trials.

Looking over at Gweyir, Kellon observes with grim resignation,  "Sun's getting real low, lass." 
RandomWombat
Spinning around on her heel, from her pacing around the perimeter of the web dome. She comes over to Kellon, nodding with a mirrored expression to his grim resolve.   "Alright. C'mon, let's get your arms around the tree,"   she says, going around behind the trunk.

Soon, Kellon finds himself shackled again, though this time not in the pitch dark of the tomb. His arms are bent back at an awkward angle, and he can feel the muscles straining. Not to mention the searing touch of the silver on his wrists, still soft and sensitive from the last night. At this rate there may be permanent scarring, even if Kellon manages to find a cure.
Prehysterical
Kellon follows along and complies with the shackling, even if it leaves his arms feeling very uncomfortable. The prospect of scarring does not concern him overmuch. He is not a vain creature, at least not in the sense of physical appearance.

As best he can manage through the strain and the sting of his bindings, Kellon sends his mind sailing even if his body is chained. Closing his eyes, he tries to find that sandy beach from the night before. No prayers to the gods this time...
RandomWombat
Gweyir steps away, after making adjustments as best as she can.   "I suppose whatever happens, I'll see you on the other side,"   she says, reluctantly leaving Kellon painfully restrained and returning to the wait.

It takes some time yet before Kellon feels it overcoming him again. But as the last light of the sun turns to darkness, a deeper darkness falls over him. A feeling of vertigo like falling, falling back onto the dim shores of a familiar sandy beach. When he opens them again, his eyes regard the radiant moon above.
Prehysterical
He hates the feeling of falling, but takes comfort in the feel of sand under his claws. Kellon looks himself over, making sure that he is as naked and unarmed as the day that he hatched from the egg. Tonight was a night for inner strength.

If Kellon is to help his friends, he must confront his inner beast. Kellon goes to seek out the source of his curse.
RandomWombat
Searching, Kellon finds his weapons and holy symbol absent. He is indeed as naked and unarmed as a hatchling. As he stands and turns to face the cave, Kellon senses a familiar presence watching him from within. The eerie light of the blue flames does not light the beach this night, and nothing gleams in the darkness. Yet Kellon feels those pitch dark eyes upon him all the same.

  "You have sought this place. Have you changed your mind, child of the sea?"  
Prehysterical
A clawed fist thumps against Kellon's shell as he takes up a resolute stance. He tries not to think about how this wolf might tear him to shreds... No backing down from this fight. So long as the curse stands, Kellon is a threat to all around him.

  "I seek challenge! I believe my own strength to be greater than that of this curse! I aim to prove it by actions! No gods, no weapons, no magic! Only what nature has seen fit to provide me!" 
RandomWombat
  "Is that so?"   the wolf's voice growls, echoing and rumbling across the beach. The sand around Kellon's feet ripples like a reflection of the calm ocean waves, skittering around the talons stuck into it.

The darkness coalesces within the cave, an inky shape emerging. Not that of the wolf Kellon met before. It ripples and distorts, changing into a shape familiar and yet foreign. Its build much like his own. The inky darkness begins to slough off of the shape, like a shed egg shell or a snake leaving its old skin behind.

What is left is a tortle-like shape, with a heavy shell covered in fierce threatening spines. Its body, where it emerges from the shell, is covered in coarse brown fur, hanging off of its strange chimeric form.

The shape does not move as the wolf god's voice resonates again, as the creature takes a threatening stance, snarling through bared, long, sharp teeth.   "Be my guest."  
 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon has the first turn.
 
Prehysterical
The creature that emerges from the cave is not the white wolf that Kellon dreaded, and yet he feels sickened looking upon the shadowy apparition. Is this what he looks like when he is shifted? What an abomination!

Kellon walks forward a dozen paces, halfway to the creature. He spreads his feet wide in a steady stance, his claws flexed and waiting for the creature to come at him.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon readies an attack.

Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 12 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 5 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The Kellon that is not strides forward to meet him. When Kellon brings up his claw to strike, it anticipates his move and bats it away - but he shoves aside the other claw, which lunges at him in a counterswipe.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Both combatants miss their opening attack.
 
Prehysterical
The battle begins in earnest. Kellon brings his arm swinging back around in a strike.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 7 ] 
 
RandomWombat
His arm caught in the vice grip of his twisted mirror, Kellon receives a slash across the underside of his arm, this time. As red hot pain streaks across his vision, flashes of other sights flicker before his eyes. Sounds of distant, wicked laughter.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon takes  5  damage.
 
Prehysterical
The insult will not go unanswered! Kellon swipes back in retaliation.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 19 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 8 ] 
 
RandomWombat
A flash of his claw and he leaves a slash along the beast's snout. In fury it lunges forward to bite him, but Kellon holds it back.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon deals  8  damage. The beast misses.
 
Prehysterical
Now it is the tortle who is smelling blood... Kellon presses the advantage with another claw.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 8 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 5 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The two hold one another at a stalemate, as Kellon experiences more flashes, visions of another place. A tent made of webbing. Pulling at chains.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Both have missed.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon fights through the visions. He makes another determined attack at his dark possessor.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 9 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 6 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Try as he might, the apparition's shell proves as tough as Kellon's own. The beast goes for the throat, but Kellon pulls back just in time to avoid more than a slash across the chin.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon is struck for  6  damage.
 
Prehysterical
He roars defiantly at his tormentor, swiping back at the monster's muzzle for its trouble.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 8 ] 
 (1d4+4)[ 5 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The beast gets a hold of Kellon by the chest and shoves him back as he swipes, knocking him off balance. But he swerves aside as it charges at him, fangs wide open. Kellon nearly falls backwards as flashes shoot across his eyes. Webs, a blade grasped in a gnarled hand.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Both have missed.
 
Prehysterical
In the back of his mind, Kellon is aware that things are already going wrong. Right now, though, it's everything he can do just to fight himself. He swings upward at his doppelganger.
 
 Spoiler: Attack 
 (1d20+6)[ 24 ] 
 (1d4+4)[ 5 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The slash claws up the other Kellon's lower jaw, but an answering swipe catches Kellon across the shoulder, leaving a bleeding wound. As both begin to flag, Kellon feels a weight slacken around his wrists, as though a pressure were suddenly lifted.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Both Kellons take  5  damage.
 
Prehysterical
He can't tell whether the drooping in his arms is fleeting strength or his bonds being freed... Kellon swipes again, now desperate to finish the fight.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 26 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 8 ] 
 
RandomWombat
With a final surge of strength, Kellon leaps atop the beast. He raises both claws and plunges them into its exposed eyes, wrenching out a bonechilling roar of pain. The beach shudders and fragments as a rumbling laugh drowns out the chilling shrieks of his doppelganger.

  "Very well. You have earned this night. We will see if you have the strength to earn the next..."  

Like a curtain being short apart, the scene is ripped away, revealing Kellon's true surroundings as his transformation fades.   "What happened?!"   Gweyir shouts, in surprise, standing behind the tree holding the unlocked manacles.

Ahead, Kellon can see Ismark and Sokol in a melee with the hideous figures of the hags, each holding their broomsticks in one hand. Above, Spider hangs from the web ceiling, freshly sealed. Father Donavich stands across the grave from the cluster of combatants, holy symbol aloft and gathering power for another spell.

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Morgantha - 19
Father Donavich - 15
Offalia - 9
Sokol - 7
Ismark - Delayed
Spider - 6
Bella - 6
Gweyir - 5
Kellon - 2

Each character's turn equated to one round in Kellon's internal struggle. He won just in time to take his first turn.
 
Prehysterical
The smug laughter of the wolf god sends a chill down Kellon's spine... One that runs away fleeing when his senses come back and he feels himself regain control of his body. Even with the dreadful sight of the hags in their camp, Kellon cannot suppress an exultant laugh of triumph. His newly argent warhammer appears in his hand with a flourish.  "I wouldn't miss this for the world! TEMPEST!!!"  Kellon surges toward Morgantha, his hammer cresting through the air and twinkling in the light of the suddenly manifested trident of Poseidon that stabs in accompaniment.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon equips his warhammer as part of his move. He doesn't have time to get his shield out, so his AC is 17 for this turn.

Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 9 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 17 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 9 ]  Bludgeoning Silver

Kellon uses his Bonus Action to cast Spiritual Weapon behind Morgantha
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 9 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 10 ]  Force damage
 
RandomWombat
Kellon's weapon swings around and slams into Morgantha's back. It's like hitting a solid, ancient oak, and the reverberating through the haft of the hammer nearly makes Kellon stagger. The old witch shoots him a look of irritation and swats away the spectral trident jabbing at her.

  "By wicked rock and cursed stone,
Make still this one's pathetic bones,"   the hag chants, holding out a hand at Sokol. A small iron ball bearing in between her fingers burns up and yellow bolts of magic arc out at the undead warrior... only to fail completely to take purchase. The hag is startled by this, staggering in the way Kellon would have expected from his hammer.

 "Sorry grandma, Sokol is not tired yet,"  he mocks. He tries to swing his silvered shortsword at her, but she parries with her broomstick - sturdier than it looks - and moves her leg away when he tries to clumsily kick her in the shin.

Holding aloft his symbol, Donavich calls out in a more confident voice than Sokol has heard since meeting the man.  "Morninglord! Cast out these foul fiends from this land! Purge the darkness!"  A wave of brilliant light bursts out in a dome around him, scorching the hags' flesh - though they barely seem to feel the pain. In the lingering moment after the flash he brings out the scroll and incants,  "Blade of heroes, come forth!" 

A glowing, spectral sword appears alongside Kellon's trident, but Morgantha sidesteps its swing. Behind her, Offalia begins reciting her own spell.

 "Begone begone, dreary sunshine,
We prefer you a fat feline!"  her crooked finger jabs at Donavich, and in a flash of eerie purple light, a chubby calico cat is sitting where he was standing.

Ismark brings his blade to bear, slashing twice at Morgantha. One of his cuts hits home, but it seems to phase her even less than Kellon's hammer. Spider drops down below her, but Morgantha spins with supernatural speed and catches Spider's fangs mid fall, shoving the arachnid away.

Bella fixes her gaze on Kellon. Her eyes are filled with a bleak darkness that almost reminds him of the wolf god's eyes... and that only evokes a fury in him that allows him to shrug off whatever hex was falling upon him. The daughter-witch narrows her eyes and bares her teeth in frustration.  "Enough games, mother! Let's stop fooling around." 
 "Quite right, dear. I don't think we need all of them. Kill Kolyan's boy! Strahd may enjoy his head as a gift."  But before Morgantha can make good on her threat, Gweyir approaches to deliver a thrust with her blade. The point of the tarnished silver sword digs slightly into the hag's flesh, and she looks down at the windmill iconography.  "Pfah. The Dursts. Amateurs, insects crawling at the feet of things beyond their comprehension..." 
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes Morgantha for  9  damage.
Kellon casts Spiritual Weapon. The Spiritual Trident misses Morgantha.

Morgantha casts Hold Person on Sokol, but he she failed to see through his shrouds that he is not a humanoid.

Father Donavich uses Channel Divinity to activate Radiance of Dawn, dealing  13  radiant damage and lighting up the night. Only Bella fails her save and takes full damage, Offalia and Morgantha take half.
Father Donavich casts Spiritual Weapon from the spell scroll. His Spiritual Longsword slashes at Morgantha, but misses.

Offalia casts Polymorph on Father Donavich, turning him into a cat.

Sokol slashes and swings at Morgantha, but misses both.
Ismark slashes Morgantha twice, dealing  4  damage.
Spider bites at Morgantha, but misses.

Bella uses a gaze attack on Kellon, but he passes his save.

Gweyir stabs Morgantha for  8  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Morgantha - 19
Father Donavich - 15
Offalia - 9
Sokol - 7
Ismark - Delayed
Spider - 6
Bella - 6
Gweyir - 5
Kellon - 2
 
Prehysterical
Morgantha's lack of reaction is almost more shocking than the jolt of resistance that runs up Kellon's arm. Fortunately, the hags' magic seems to fail more often than not. He finds a moment to recover his shield before battering away at Morgantha.  "If they were insects, that makes you dirt,"  Kellon taunts angrily.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Hammer attack:  (1d20+6)[ 16 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 16 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 9 ]  Bludgeoning Silver

Spiritual Weapon Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 8 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 21 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 10 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
Morgantha's movements are faster than her gnarled body, or even her great strength, would suggest. She makes tiny, minute adjustments, sifting around Kellon's claws with ease. But even she is becoming overwhelmed by the number of foes ganging up on her, and his trident digs into her back. Her face curls into a grimace of anger - and, perhaps, a trace of fear.  "It is not my magic that will break you."  Before he can put up his shield, Kellon feels the force of her fist impact his chest, and hears a cracking from his shell. The breath is knocked out of him, and he feels as though a cart just rammed him at breakneck speed.

Sokol takes advantage of her focus on Kellon, scoring a piercing stab on the hag, drawing dangerously close to where her vitals should be. She bats him away before he can continue the assault.

  "Come on witch, isn't it my head you want?"   Ismark taunts, delivering two swift slashes to the mother hag.

Seemingly undeterred in his holy purpose, Catovich scampers around behind Bella and scratches at her ankles. He is barely even an annoyance, and she disregards his attempts.

 "Bound by muck and bubbling rot,
Remain trapped within this spot,"  Offalia chants, sending the same yellow bolts of magic at Ismark as Morgantha tried on Sokol. But he raises up his sword in defiance to block them, the magic swirling around him and then fading as he triumphantly regains his stance, much to the hags' frustration.

Spider lunges up, sinking its fangs into Morgantha's neck and flooding her with venom. In spite of her incredible strength and durability, covered only in nicks and scratches from their mighty blows, the hag is beginning to flag and tire.

 "Mother, retreat. Leave this to us!"  Bella shouts, holding out her hand with a piece of crystal.  "Weeping rain and cackling storm,
Rend these mortals' wretched forms!"  She calls out, as a bolt of lightning rips through Ismark and Sokol, leaving them scorched, both struggling to stand.

Fey magic sparkles around the staggering Sokol, as Gweyir slashes Morgantha across the side.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon misses Morgantha, but his Spiritual Weapon hits for  10  force damage.

Morgantha strikes Kellon for  16  damage.

Catovich claws Bella's ankles for  1  damage.

Offalia casts Hold Person on Ismark, but he passes his save.

Sokol critically hits Morgantha for  11  damage with his shortsword, but misses with his punch.
Ismark slashes Morgantha for  5  damage, then uses Goading Strike for  8  damage and inflicts her with disadvantage to attack other characters.
Spider bites Morgantha, hitting for a  7  damage Sneak Attack, and  4  poison damage.

Bella casts Lightning Bolt, dealing  37  lightning damage to Sokol and Ismark. Ismark passes his Dex save for half damage.

Gweyir uses two Balm dice to heal Sokol for  6  hit points, and he is granted  2  temporary hit points.
Gweyir slashes Morgantha for  9  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Morgantha - 19
Father Donavich - 15
Offalia - 9
Sokol - 7
Ismark - Delayed
Spider - 6
Bella - 6
Gweyir - 5
Kellon - 2
 
Prehysterical
In all his years, nothing has ever cracked his shell like Morgantha has. Kellon can feel a little blood dribble down his beak in response to the blow. Still, he does not waver. The hags are desperate and he is going down fighting. The daughters' cries only embolden him.

 "Stay, child-murderer! We have an open grave just for you!"  Hammer and trident strike again.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 18 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 25 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 11 ]  Silver Bludgeoning

Spirit Weapon Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 19 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 15 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 4 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
The burst of thunder that erupts from Kellon's shell provides him the opening he needs, and he plants the head of the warhammer squarely against the side of her head, cracking jawbones and sending a pair of rotten old teeth flying. The trident behind her jabs once more into the old hag's brutalized form, and she gasps out a croaking cry of shock as she falls to the ground. As she falls, Father Donavich returns to his true form in a flash of light.

 "Mother!"  Offalia cries with rage, baring her claws in fury.

Father Donavich swings his club at Bella, while his floating sword levitates to attack the furious purple-skinned, warty Offalia. She slaps the sword aside and rushes towards Kellon, slashing at Spider with her claws as she passes and whistling through only air. Sokol hops over Morgantha and comes around behind Offalia, jabbing at her as he steadies himself from the lightning bolt. But the younger hag seems just as durable as her mother, and nearly fresh to boot.

Spider tries to bite at Offalia, but she jerks her leg out of the way.

Meanwhile, Ismark turns to face Bella and applies expert swordplay, two sound slashes right across her chest. But his mundane weapon is simply inadequate. She meets his gaze with steely resolve.  "This is not the end! Sister, we must go!" 
 "Never! I will not flee from mortal pests!" 

With a growling sigh, Bella draws out a pulsating red stone and squeezes it, summoning a red glow from within. She transforms into spectral mist, before vanishing.

  "We have them on the run,"   Gweyir shouts encouragingly, her words filling Kellon with new strength as she circles around to face off against the last hag. Doing a combat roll around to the opposite side of spider, she delivers a grazing hit.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
(I forgot Donavich's Spiritual Weapon, since he can still Concentrate even as a cat. But it missed anyways.)
Kellon's counterattack deals  3  thunder damage to Morgantha.
Kellon strikes Morgantha for  11  damage.
Kellon's Spiritual Trident strikes Morgantha for  4  damage. Once again, dealing just enough to cherry tap her into unconsciousness.

Donavich tries to club Bella, but misses.
Spiritual Longsword slashes at Offalia, but misses.

Offalia claws at Spider, but misses.

Sokol uses Second Wind to heal for  10  hit points.
Sokol stabs Offalia for a miss, then Action Surges to try again, critically hitting for  8  damage.
Ismark uses Second Wind to heal for  6  hit points.
Ismark slashes Bella twice for  3  and  4  damage.
Spider bites at Offalia, but misses.

Bella casts Plane Shift using her Heartstone, becoming Ethereal.

Gweyir slashes Offalia for  4  damage.
Gewyir casts Healing Word, restoring  6  hit points to Kellon.

It is now Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Father Donavich - 15
Offalia - 9
Sokol - 7
Ismark - Delayed
Spider - 6
Gweyir - 5
Kellon - 2
 
Prehysterical
The sight of Morgantha's flying teeth has catharsis running through Kellon's body. He barely has time to admire his handiwork when one of the daughters is in his face. Bella's flight takes away some of the joy of success, but there is a serious chance of a two-for-one. Kellon just has to keep her angry.

 "Yes, wail, hag! Wail like how you made those children cry!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon swings at Offalia with his warhammer.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 9 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 13 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 12 ]  Silver Bludgeoning

The Trident moves opposite of Spider and behind Offalia.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 14 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 23 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 11 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
 "You dare compare me to some mewling mortal brat?!"  the hag screeches in rage, swinging a claw at Kellon. It sails across his chin, slicing it open in a way that almost mirrors one of the cuts he gave his doppelganger in the nightmare. Blood splatters onto the ground, more than is comfortable to see, as Sokol and the trident both hack and stab at the hag's back.

Father Donavich raises up his empty hand.  "Sunlight spears!"  he calls out, a javelin of gleaming light forming in his grasp. As he tosses it at the hag it splits into three, though only one makes contact as she bobs and weaves around them.

Ismark quickly moves to join the melee, making a pair of quick jabs, but the hag's lack of reaction makes it hard to tell if they made contact. Spider takes advantage of him joining however, skittering past Kellon's feet to bite at the hag and dose her with a shot of venom.

A hand on Kellon's shell is followed by soothing light and a staunching of the bleeding down his chin, as Gweyir steps around over Morgantha's unconscious heap.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon's strike misses, but his Spiritual Trident hits for  11  force damage.
Father Donavich casts (Kellon Arcana: Scorching Ray), dealing  4  fire damage with one hit.
Spiritual Longsword slashes at Offalia, but misses.

Offalia scratches Kellon for  11  damage.

Sokol stabs Offalia for  7  damage, punches for  1 , and then Action Surges to stab again, but misses.
Ismark uses Feinting Attack, but misses, then slashes again for  2  damage.
Spider bites Offalia for  6  Sneak Attack damage, and  3  poison damage.
Gweyir casts Cure Wounds and uses Balm on Kellon, restoring  8  hit points total and granting  1  temp hp.

It is Kellon's turn.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Father Donavich - 15
Offalia - 9
Sokol - 7
Ismark - Delayed
Spider - 6
Gweyir - 5
Kellon - 2
 
Prehysterical
Any retort that Kellon might have given is drowned as he finds himself choking on his own blood. Between Morgantha's bone-crunching punch and a near throat slit, Kellon finds himself woozy on his feet. Gweyir's healing touch gives him just enough help to focus his gaze on Offalia with blazing self-righteousness. Like a blacksmith at an anvil, Kellon keeps hammering unrelentingly.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 12 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 23 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 10 ]  Silver Bludgeoning

Spirit Weapon Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 19 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 11 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 9 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
Weapons and spears of light pierce her body as the hag claws in desperate rage at Kellon. But with a final dose of venom from Spider's fangs, her eyes droop and she falls facefirst into the dirt.

There is silence as the group looks between the two fallen hags.  "I believe we've done it, my friends!" 
  "One of them fled,"   Ismark points out dourly, looking in the direction she had been with his sword still dawn.   "But alone, she can no longer wield her fell magic. That is correct, Father?"   he questions.

 "For now, perhaps..."  Father Donavich answers, holding his holy symbol close.  "I have heard that hags may coven with mortal witches if desperate, albeit with lesser power. But there is naught we can do to give chase now." 
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes Offalia for  10  damage.
Spiritual Trident jabs Offalia for  9  damage.
Father Donavich casts Scorching Ray and hits for  2  fire damage, twice.
Spiritual Longsword slashes Offalia for  7  damage.

Offalia claws at Kellon, but misses.

Sokol stabs Offalia for  6  damage, and punches for  1 .
Ismark slashes Offalia twice for  4  and  3  damage.
Spider bites Offalia for  8  Sneak Attack damage and  10  poison damage, knocking her out. She is paralyzed and stabilizes due to Spider's venom.

Combat has ended!
 
Prehysterical
While Ismarck's words hold truth, Kellon is willing to take his victories where he can get them. As the other discuss their options, Kellon looks down at the limp figures of the beaten hags. His claws tighten with grim purpose as he looks mercilessly down upon them.  "Aye, no chance for us... but we can make sure of these two."  Raising his hammer on high, Kellon sets about smashing the skulls of the hags like a seagull cracking eggshells.
RandomWombat
The hag's bones prove as durable as the rest of them, each taking two mighty swings to finish the job. As they die, Spider is disappointed to watch them dissolve into rancid puddles of inky black liquid, which seeps down into the ground as if drunk deeply by the cursed land itself. Father Donavich says a prayer over the bodies,  "May the Morninglord see the fiendish magic of these abominations dispersed and scattered, and may their evil never return to plague this land..."  he performs the sign of a star in the air above each of the bodies.

Ismark regards the execution with grim satisfaction.   "Two more evils purged from this land. With the Death House, that makes three under your belt. Maybe your arrival brings this land some hope,"   the man comments, patting Kellon on the shoulder.

  "We should check their mill when we go to Vallaki,"   Gweyir suggests.   "She might return their to gather her things."  
  "I would almost suggest tearing it down, but perhaps if we cleanse it the thing could be fixed up and used to produce  wholesome  food again,"   Ismark comments.

 "And it's a nice comfy home for all kinds of spiders, that would be mean to tear their house down!" 
Prehysterical
A wave of revulsion runs over Kellon like an oil spill. Watching the foul goop seep away, he hopes that they have not fouled the land any more than it already has been...

Kellon shakes his head in response to Ismarck's praise.  "The evil spirit in that house still lives, so I dinnae count that among the tally." 

As the other discuss the matter of the old mill, Kellon feels torn.  "These are just my feelings on the matter, but that place has been a den of evil for far too long. Better to tear it down, stone by stone, until it is completely leveled! Nothing is permanent in the face of nature and this mill should be no different! Better to raze it to the ground and sweep the land clean. A new mill can always be built, or some other use found for it.

But I agree that we should return to the mill, whatever the result. We must scour the place to ensure that nothing was missed. I doubt that we will catch yon savvy hag alone there, but even a blind seagull finds crabs every now and again." 

He looks to Father Donavich.  "Color me surprised, Father, but all things considered, I am still feeling full of piss and vinegar."  Kellon spits out a gob of blood-infused saliva from his mouth.  "Got plenty of magic to help you with your boyo, if you're game for it." 
RandomWombat
  "The mill is tainted, perhaps. But the amount of bread it could produce if repaired would improve access to food come winter,"   Ismark contests, with an uneasy frown straining his face.   "Douse it in holy water if we must, but tearing it down would cast aside any tangible benefit this victory may have for the people."  

The old priest clears his throat and nods, reluctance still plain on his face.  "If we place my boy in repose... we should bring him with us, to Vallaki. In a wagon or a cart. I do not wish for him to befall the same fate as... as your friend, if left alone,"  he looks at the empty grave sympathetically.

  "I can arrange for a mule and a cart with ease."  
  "Well, we may as well get going then. Er, is this permanent..?"   she motions a hand up and down Kellon's profile, indicating his very non-wolfiness.
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head sadly to Gweyir's question.  "Nay, 'tis only for tonight. I fought off the wretched thing in my own mind, but it will be back tomorrow night and we will start the whole dance over. I suggest we make like sailors on shore leave and beat our boots until we reach sanctuary in Vallaki... on the morrow, of course. Still more swordwork needs doing this night." 

While he lays a healing hand on his own chest and on Ismarck's shoulder, Kellon asks Spider,  "Are you hurt, shipmate?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Cure Wounds on Kellon:  (1d8+3)[ 4 ] 
Cure Wounds on Ismarck:  (1d8+3)[ 5 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "I'm a-okay Kellon!"  Spider chirps, remaining unharmed after the scrap with the hags.

Joining Kellon in tending to the group's wounds, Gweyir suggests,   "Maybe we should head out tonight? While you're in control."  
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Sokol is healed for  4  more with Balm, and Kellon for  5  more with Cure Wounds.
 

  "Traveling Barovia at night would be foolhardy for most. After this battle, I am certain this group has what it takes to fend off anything that comes. But it would just be asking to wind up with more infected by werewolves,"   Ismark counters as the group shuffles out through the brambles, Gweyir taking the lead and hacking the way through.

Running a hand over the spot where the lightning had scorched his flesh on his back, Ismark finds it smooth once more and with fresh skin, and nods gratefully to Kellon.
Prehysterical
 "We will have to risk it,"  Kellon states flat out.  "Every hour that your sister spends in the village is another hour for Strahd's machinations and foul minions to do their work. Time is our enemy, not our friend. Besides, Gweyir is right. We need to reach Vallaki before dusk tomorrow or you'll be forced to make camp with my furry beak howling mad into the night for all to hear. It's not ideal, 'tis true, but it's our only real option." 

With a bit more levity, Kellon adds,  "Besides... if we run into werewolves, just let me take care of them. I'm already cursed with lycanthropy. What can they possibly do? Make me a  double  werewolf? A werewerewolf?" 
RandomWombat
Ismark breathes heavily out through his nose, but admits,   "You have a point. Very well. Handle your... business with Father Donavich, I will retrieve a wagon, my sister, and the little ones and meet you at the chapel."  

Once they arrive back at the bounds of the village, Ismark splits off from the rest, leaving the group standing in front of the chapel. Father Donavich opens the doors, and they find that the screams from below have vanished. Visibly worried, Father Donavich opens the southeastern door in the chapel hallway.

Time and neglect have punched holes in the ceiling of this moldy room, which contains a few broken roof shingles amid puddles of water. In one corner, set into the floor, is a heavy wooden trapdoor held shut with a chain and a padlock. Father Donavich reaches into his robes and looks for something, but begins patting his pockets in confusion and distress.  "Blast it all, I... I don't remember where I put the key." 
Prehysterical
Kellon shares Donavich's worry. Somehow, the stillness is even worse than the unearthly screams... He fights the urge to shake the man violently upon his confused search for the key. Instead, he heaves a sigh and asks Spider,  "Spider, would you be a good sailor and open it up for us?" 
RandomWombat
Spider hops to it, almost literally, squeezing past Father Donavich by crawling along the wall. With still-baffling dexterity, the arachnid extracts a set of lockpicking tools from its silk bag and clicks it open with a few minute, careful motions.  "Taadaa!" 
 "Thank you,"  Father Donavich utters quickly, before descending.  "Let there be light,"  he casts a Light cantrip upon the tip of his scepter, transforming it with a touch into a gleaming flameless torch. The stairs down, to Kellon's pleasant surprise, are carved earth beneath their wooden boards, and so support his weight with ease.

The church's undercroft has rough-hewn walls and a floor made of damp clay and earth. Rotting wooden pillars strain under the weight of the wooden ceiling, reinforced with newer material built around them. In the light of the scepter, a gaunt shape can be seen lying in the dark, tied up in the corner. It is a pale boy with ragged hair, his face desiccated and wrinkled like a mummified corpse. He can be heard breathing raggedly.

Kellon recognizes it as the late stages of vampiric lethargy, exhaustion caused by a refusal or inability to feed. The boy is nearly comatose and will soon be rendered 'dead' as a mummified corpse, but would in reality only be dormant. A vampire never truly starves to death, only awaits an unlucky tomb raider to bleed into its mouth, or another vampire to revive it. Father Donavich rushes over and kneels by the boy's side, turning him onto his back to look at him.  "My boy. What is happening to him?" 
Prehysterical
 "Excellent work, shipmate,"  Kellon praises his little arachnid friend. He follows behind the priest hurriedly, worried that Donavich might be walking into an ambush.

When Kellon sees the limp figure on the floor, a wave of unlikely relief flows through him. Standing beside Donavich, Kellon explains,  "Forgive me if this sounds callous, Father, but it is a blessing in disguise. He has gone for so long without blood that it is physically weakening him. He cannot starve to death through such means, just grow more feeble with each passing day." 

Kellon has the man stand up and takes him aside to the far part of the room. He tells the man in a low voice,  "I took the precaution of a prayer of repose to keep his body intact when he is slain. Father... it will be easiest to transport him when he is dead. As long as he remains conscious, he is a threat to anyone who doesn't know better. You know what must be done." 
RandomWombat
Father Donavich is dragged away limply to the back wall, as weak limbed as he was when Kellon first met him. His expression shifts between determination and doubt, several times over, as he looks at the shape of his boy in the corner.  "I was all ready... all ready to fight a struggling monster. Not... this. I, I am afraid I must ask of you to carry this out. Just. Not the hammer, please. Something quick." 

Gweyir approaches, coming down the stairs behind them with Sokol and Spider. She draws her silver sword and holds it out for Kellon.   "I suggest not going for the neck, as quick as that would be. Severing the head might interfere with resurrection? I'm not really sure how it works."  

Kellon is also aware that he must use radiant magic to seal the wounds, once they are made lethal. A vampire will simply heal from anything else.
Prehysterical
Kellon gives a sad, sympathetic nod.  "I understand." 

Looking up at Gweyir's sword, Kellon shakes his head.  "If we're going to do this, we'll do this right. I'll be right back."  He heads back upstairs to the broken pews of the chapel. It doesn't take much effort at all to find a suitable piece of wood to function as a stake. Kellon marches grimly back downstairs, stake clutched in one hand.

He goes over to the corner and makes sure that the boy's chest is lined up for a single precise thrust. Holding the stake aloft, Kellon tells the miserable creature,  "You'll curse me for how much this is going to hurt, but you'll thank me later." 
  Shunk!  
RandomWombat
The jagged, sharp piece of wood drives down with all of Kellon's weight behind it, piercing through the withered vampire's ribs and stabbing through its heart. Inky black liquid oozes from the wound as the boy gasps and twitches backwards, then goes pitifully still. His body remains desiccated and shriveled, but does not rot or decay.

Unable to watch, Father Donavich stands near Gweyir, turned away from the sight. She quietly nods to him to signal that it is done, and he steps away to the back of the undercroft to drag out an unused wooden coffin. It is oversized for the young man's body, and the wood is swollen in a few places from the same water damage the rest of the battered old building suffers, but it will do.
Prehysterical
Having committed such violence against the vampire thrall, Kellon releases his hold on the stake and places a clawtip delicately on the corpse's forehead. He invokes a brief prayer to Poseidon for the boy to rest peacefully until their arrival in Vallaki, his quiet serenity almost comical compared to his behavior mere seconds before. To complete the blessing, Kellon fishes two copper coins out of his coin purse and places them over the corpse's eyes to close them shut.

As Father Donavich approaches with the ill-fitting coffin, Kellon instructs,  "His body must not be touched by sunlight or running water or else he will become naught but powder."  His gaze looks between the coffin and the boards overhead before Kellon asks the man sadly,  "What happened to this place, Father? Ruin looms over this church like a grim specter." 
RandomWombat
Father Donavich lifts his boy up gently, laying him within the coffin. He solemnly seals it shut, and looks sadly up at the mold floorboards above.  "The claw marks upon the door are old, from times when Lady Kolyana would take shelter here. The neglect is my own weakness. When my boy went off to fight the devil and never returned, I lost my will, and faced a crisis of faith. Stopped holding ceremonies. Stopped patching holes. Stopped caring."  His eyes drop down, looking upon the coffin.  "And all the damage to the pews, that was from my struggle with Doru when he finally returned. I tried to restrain him and tie him up, but his strength was nearly too great. Were he to attack me with all his might... I would not have been able to survive a fight with a vampire. But somewhere in there, my boy was still... it was still him."  The priest holds a hand to his holy symbol, dangling from his neck.  "That was when I took up the sun and scepter again. Begged my Lord for forgiveness for my weakness, begged for a way to save Doru. And now he's sent me you." 

Leaning on the coffin lid for support, Father Donavich stands up and breathes a heavy sigh, in a mixture of sorrow and relief.  "The road to Vallaki is long. We should go meet Lord Ismark outside. Can you help me carry him up the stairs?" 
Prehysterical
Donavich's words cause Kellon to look up himself, seeing past the rankfloorboards and patchwork ceiling as he imagined the stars and full moon above. He honestly doesn't know how to feel about the idea of being sent by Lathander... Surely, his lord Poseidon would not be jealous of his acolyte, would he?

Standing up from his kneeling, Kellon responds,  "Sure. You go up the stairs first; I'll take the brunt of the weight."  As they move the body, he asks the priest,  "So, at what point did keeping the good Lady Ireena become like bailing water with a soup ladle?" 
RandomWombat
Taking up the front end of the coffin, Donavich begins moving it up the stairs. Gweyir and the others wait to follow until they are up and through to the room above. Nobody particularly fancies being landed on if Kellon falls backwards.

In spite of Kellon's attempt at dry levity, the Father cannot seem to summon up the same. He answers soberly,  "The vampire's first visits began when she came of age. And he never stopped pursuing her since. When coming here himself to try and woo her with gifts and seduction failed, he began to send undead or bewitched villagers under orders to bring her to his castle. With every failure he sends more the next time." 

The rest of the group climbs up behind them out of the undercroft, and Sokol nudges the trapdoor back shut behind them with a loud creak and a bang. Their procession continues out through the hall, to the exterior of the chapel, where they set down the coffin.

Down the hill to the village, Kellon can make out Ismark with his fair hair at the head of a wagon pulled by an old donkey, with Ireena beside him and the three children riding inside.
Prehysterical
It reassures Kellon to see that Ireena looks none the worse for wear during their absence. He looks to Father Donavich and points out,  "Well, as you said, the road is a long one. Be easier to take him down to the wagon than make them come up here." 
RandomWombat
With a nod, he picks up his end of the coffin again ad they make their way down. Ismark and Ireena meet them halfway, bringing the donkey to a stop.  "Hello again,"  Ireena greets them, looking unharmed apart from uncombed hair and probably having slept in her armor.

Behind her, Ismark motions the children to the side.   "We'll be transporting something in this coffin. Scooch over to make room, and no peeking. Understood?"   The children slide off to the side to let Kellon and Father Donavich slide the coffin onto the wagon, nodding along to Ismark's instructions. Father Donavich uses a ratty old tarp folded in the back of the wagon to cover the coffin, leaving the children uncovered for now - they've no doubt had  bad experiences  smuggled around hidden in wagons.

 "If there is any danger, I want you all to hide under this until we tell you it is safe,"  the priest tells them, and again they nod, a bit more hesitantly this time.

  "I do not plan on stopping before we reach either Vallaki or the mill. Is everyone ready?"   Ismark asks. The group nods their heads, one by one, looking around at each other. Unless Kellon objects, Ismark leads the donkey by the reins, bringing back around down the hill to make way to the main road.
Prehysterical
 "Anchor's up and sails are catching wind, cap'n,"  Kellon quips eagerly. The sooner that they can get to Vallaki, the better for all of them.
RandomWombat
With the wagon loaded, and Ismark passing out two days' worth of trail rations from his pack, the procession heads out. There is no room in the wagon for anyone but the children and the coffin, so the rest of the crew must walk, forming a marching column in front of and behind the wagon.

Down the rolling hills of Barovia they set out, the gleam of moonlight on water marking the distant surface of Tser Pool. With night sinking around them, Kellon can feel the Mists are more active now. Like the coiling tentacles of the kraken in the deep, they reach far in tendrils from the borders and slither in service of some unfathomable purpose.

Ahead, Kellon can see the Mist descending over the Tser Pool and the Vistani camp along its shore, but he can feel the highroad ahead remains clear.

And nearer to their goal, he spies a gaunt figure on horseback, looming across the Ivlis bridge. A crack of lightning across the sky illuminates it momentarily as the skeletal rider, clad in old armor and astride its bound steed. With the booming of the thunder comes a second flash of lightning; and in the new flash of light the rider has moved. A single, outstretched hand pointed at Kellon.
Prehysterical
Nothing in this land fills Kellon with a more quiet sense of dread than the Mist... Werewolves, vampires, and hags can all be fought and vanquished. The Mist is a foe impervious to harm and without any trace of mercy or fear. He gives silent thanks that the foul cloud does not block their passage.

Instead, their path is blocked by the strange rider from nights before. Kellon looks in surprise at the rider before clacking his beak in annoyance. Marching forward, heedless of the lightning, Kellon barks,  "Enough games, rider! Who are you?" 
RandomWombat
The outstretched skeletal claw retracts, reaching into the rider's torn surcoat. It withdraws a letter, in a crisp but plain envelope that looks unusually new amidst its ghastly deliverer's ragged attire. The figure remains where it is, the cracked bones of its face unmoving and unreadable, silent. Save for its hand, outstretched again towards Kellon.
Prehysterical
Kellon can't stand the creature's silence. Nevertheless, even if he has a sneaking suspicion of who the letter is from, Kellon steps forward to retrieve the letter.
RandomWombat
The envelope is unmarked. When Kellon opens it up with a claw, he finds a letter inside, scribed on plain parchment, in messy handwriting.

 
 Spoiler: Letter 
  Ahoy. If one of the right mates is reading this and you ain't dead, you know who you are.

I don't know if this letter will reach you, or if skull face here understands a word I'm saying. Barely know aft from elbow in this place being honest with you.

Washed ashore by this place called  Kresk  Krezk with a Z and been helping this old codger with a scarecrow problem. Ain't found nobody else from the crew, ship's a no show, sounds like we're up the kraken's creek without a paddle.

If this got to you try sending me something back by bone mail assuming I'm not dead either by then.

Cap  
 
Prehysterical
Of all the things that Kellon had been expecting, this was the last. Was it  their  captain? If so, how did he get so far away while Gweyir and Kellon washed up in the same place? And who exactly was the 'old codger'? Strahd?

Kellon can't hide the excitement in his voice.  "Gweyir... you'd better come look at this." 
RandomWombat
Behind him, the others are watching warily. The children are staring out from under the tarp in awe, Ismark and Ireena look ready to spring into action, Father Donavich holds his holy symbol in hand, and Sokol and Spider look more curious than afraid.

When called forward, Gweyir walks over to join Kellon on the bridge before the skeletal rider.   "Is this another letter from Strahd?"   she asks, taking the proffered letter in hand. As her eyes scan the page, her face lights up with the same excitement as Kellon's.   "Captain Hammond is alive? This is fantastic news!"  

Turning, Gweyir calls back to the others,   "Do you know where Krezk is? Is that that abandoned hamlet we passed through?"  
 "No, that one was called Goul. It was a home mainly to dusk elves,"  Ireena answers.  "They were attacked and driven out after they tried to lead a revolt against Strahd many years ago. He slew every female elf, leaving the men to die out slowly over their centuries long lifespan." 
  "Elves? So that's why the villagers kept calling me a 'duskie'?"  
  "I would imagine so. To answer your first question, Krezk is another town, almost a straight shot west of Vallaki across another river. It sits beneath the Abbey of Saint Markovia."  
Prehysterical
 "Cruel blackguard bastard,"  Kellon swears as he hears about Strahd's genocide of the elves. The news of the town being close to their destination, however, gives Kellon hope. He had given up the captain for dead; any chance to reunite with him was worth the risk.

Kellon asks skeptically,  "I don't suppose anyone has any ink on them? Not exactly something that I carry around like a scribe." 
RandomWombat
Father Donavich extracts some rolls of parchment and an inkpen from his bag, stepping up to the bridge. He regards the skeletal rider warily as he approaches to hand them to Kellon.
Prehysterical
Kellon accepts the items with thanks and writes down his response quickly. His handwriting is also awkward due to a lack of practice and bulky claws.
 
 Spoiler: Reponse Letter 
  Captain Hammond,

Gweyir and I are all that's left of the crew. As I write this, we are southeast of some town called Vallaki, which is east of Krezk. Currently helping some people fight off hags and undead.

A vampire lord named Strahd brought all of us here. We're marooned in these lands until we find a way to deal with him. Nobody enters or leaves without his permission.

We'll be in Vallaki in a few hours. Don't do anything too foolish; we will be looking for you within the next few days. If any of the locals are friendly, tell them to look out for a "duskie" and a turtle-man.

No rum in these lands, but we'll see what we can do for drinks when we find you. Be wary and be safe.

Kellon  
 


It makes him feel a bit silly, but he has Gweyir blow air onto the ink to dry it before rolling up the parchment and handing it to the disturbing messenger.
RandomWombat
Breathing lightly on the parchment, Gweyir gently fans it with her hand to help the ink dry. Without an even surface it still runs in a few places, but the letter is for the most part legible. The ghastly courier reaches down with a skeletal hand, taking up the offered scroll from Kellon's claw. With no motion of expression or acknowledgement it slides the rolled up parchment into its surcoat and its skeletal steed turns in its spot, beginning a trot that turns into a sprint away up the road. At the crossroads ahead, it disappears into the Mist swirling around the lower path. A precarious road up the cliffside past the Vistani camp that few mortal travelers would brave on horseback, even on a day when the Mist was not in their path. But for the skeletal rider, it is simply the most efficient road.

 "Each day, I find myself more entangled with the dark forces of this land..."  Father Donavich laments to himself as the wagon begins moving again at Ismark's motion.

  "A message from someone you know?"   the nobleman asks. Their assembly carries on up the road to the Ivlis crossroads. The hangman's gallows stand above the divide, as if a stone on which a river breaks in two. To the left is the old graveyard.

The path to the Vistani camp is shrouded in Mist, leaving them only the high road.
Prehysterical
Father Donavich may bemoan the continued strangeness of this land, but Kellon is not about to look a gift skeleton horse in the mouth. He answers Ismarck's question.

 "Aye. The captain of our ship is alive, but he somehow got separated from us. Says that he is in Krezk helping with a scarecrow problem. No offense to your lordship, but once we take care of all the business in Vallaki, we aim to go find him. With his vessel sunk, he'll be in need of some shipmates to have some anchor to sanity." 
RandomWombat
  "Of course. I believe Krezk would be a good destination for you, either way. Should you seek aid from the abbot for your affliction."  

Their wagon rolls on. Along the way, Kellon hears rustling in the bushes on either side of the road, as they near the open cliffside that leads to the great stone bridge over the chasm. He can't get a good look at the source of the noise, but Gweyir whispers to him,   "Wolves."  

Ismark overhears and does his best to maintain a poker face. Fortunately, Ireena is dressed in a cloak that obscures her face and features from afar, so Strahd's canine eyes may not have made her yet. The wolves, whatever their purpose, have not made to attack.
Prehysterical
Kellon does his best not to openly seek out the hidden spies. Instead, he mutters as he asks Gweyir,  "I know that Strahd controls wolves, but is there any chance that our observers are our 'friendly' local werewolf pack? We're not that far from we fought them by the pond." 
RandomWombat
  "I don't know. If they're not attacking, be on the lookout, we could be walking into something,"   she warns.

  "Are you well, Mary? Do you need to take a break and ride in the cart?"   Ismark asks pointedly to Ireena. The curious question is met at first with silence. A glance back shows Ismark meeting Kellon's gaze, and Ireena performing somatic gestures and murmuring under her hood. A ripple like a pond into which a stone was cast flows across her body, assuming the appearance of Sokol's wife Mary.

 "I should be okay,"  Ireena-as-Mary answers, doing her best to imitate Mary's voice. As the group moves into double file to cross the bridge, Sokol glances over from his spot towards the back with some confusion.

It is not until the group is halfway over the stone bridge that Kellon sees and hears movement ahead, and Father Donavich reports from the rear,  "There are wolves on the trail. They are moving for the bridge."  Sure enough, Kellon sees similar canine shapes taking up positions at the other end.

  "They surrounded us. Kellon, be careful with those thunder spells, I'm not sure this bridge could take it,"   Gweyir cautions as she draws her sword. Ismark draws steel as well, shifting forward past Gweyir and readying his weapon.

Behind them, Sokol does the same, and Spider crawls up on the stone guards of the bridge.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Spider readies an action to attack.
Ismark readies an action to attack.
Sokol readies an action to attack.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Spider - 20
Ismark - 19
Sokol - 18
Kellon - 13
Wolves - 12
Ireena - 8
Sokol - 7
Gweyir - 5
 
Prehysterical
So, Ireena has a little magic to her... Sadly, it seems like the wolves are too keen to be fooled by their act. Much as Kellon feared, both sides of the bridge are swarming with wolves.

 "If it's just wolves, won't need thunder,"  Kellon answers Gweyir.  "Something tells me it isn't, though... Strahd wouldn't send less of a force." 

Loudly enough for everyone to hear, Kellon instructs,  "Keep the cart moving! The only way out of an ambush is through!"  He hopes the others will take his advice. Kellon leads by example as he moves forward, drawing his hammer and shield to make ready.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon moves forward 30 feet and draws his weapon. He trades his Action for another move and equips his shield.
 
RandomWombat
As the wolves begin to swarm onto the bridge, Kellon can see a familiar gleam in their eyes, the mark of the vampire's sway. Whether he can truly see through those eyes, who can say for certain.

Looking behind her, Ireena-as-Mary grabs hold of the donkey's reins and gently guides it forward, trying to look more furtive and nervous than she probably is. But the way ahead is too crowded to get far without overrunning Gweyir and Ismark.

Joining Kellon, Gweyir pulls a small palmful of seeds from her pouch and holds them up to the moonlight.   "Malamalama Mahina!"   The seeds take on a silver glow and begin to sprout, but instead of a plant, streams of silver light flutter out and up to the sky. A ray of pure white light seems to spear down straight from the full moon, enveloping one of the wolves. Its eyes flash and light up before dimming to their natural color, and the wolf collapses.

  "They are not werewolves. That would have reverted them to their natural form,"   the druid states, taking a fighting stance.

  "Good. Then let us push through!"   moving forward, Ismark expertly drops another wolf with two slices of his blade.

Behind them, the backline moves along behind the wagon.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
The wolves advance onto the bridge.

Ireena guides the donkey forward.
 Sokol  Donavich (put the wrong name in Init) casts Virtue on Spider and moves up with the wagon.
Gweyir casts (Arcana check failed) on a wolf, dealing  15  radiant damage and KO.
Spider moves and readies an attack.
Ismark strikes a wolf for  10  and  11  damage, KOing it.
Sokol moves and readies an attack.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Spider - 20
Ismark - 19
Sokol - 18
Kellon - 13
Wolves - 12
Ireena - 8
Donavich - 7
Gweyir - 5
 
Prehysterical
Kellon takes a step forward and swings at the wolf in front of him.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 10 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 12 ]  Silver Bludgeoning
 
RandomWombat
The warhammer whistles above the wolf's head, and the two of them in front of Kellon gnash and bite at his legs. One of them gets a hold of him and yanks him down onto his back, wobbling back and forth on his shell embarrassingly. A third lunges up next to him and bites at his arm, but he manages to ward it off.

The beam of light from the heavens slices forwards across the bridge, leaving the stone unharmed but burning out the evil power inside the wolves. Two of them falter and nearly keel over, their possessed eyes flickering. The one that brought Kellon down drops in a flash of light, as the first wolf.

Ismark marches through, bringing another wolf down, and leaving only one more between their wagon and the other side of the bridge.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon swings at a wolf, but misses.

Wolf bites at Kellon, but misses.
Wolf bites Kellon, critically hitting for  14  damage and knocking him Prone. His Temp HP eats 1 of the damage.
Wolf bites at Kellon, but misses.

Ireena leads the donkey ahead.
Father Donavich recasts Virtue on Spider as they move.
Gweyir moves the moonbeam, dealing  7  damage to one wolf and  19  damage and KO to another, and  9  damage to a third that passes its save.
Ismark slashes a wolf for  7  damage, KOing it.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Spider - 20
Ismark - 19
Sokol - 18
Kellon - 13
Wolves - 12
Ireena - 8
Donavich - 7
Gweyir - 5
 
Prehysterical
The wolf's bite feels like it's yanking the muscle right out of Kellon's leg. He cries out in agony as rattles back and forth on his shell. Fortunately, he is able to use the rim of his shield as a lever and pulls himself back up. Kellon hisses angrily at the wolf before swinging again.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon stands up and attacks.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 17 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 21 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 5 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The hammer slams down into it and it falls down upon the stone. The wolves following behind are warded off as Sokol and Spider menace them with blade and fang, the wagon moving up ahead with the path clear, trampling a few of the unconscious wolves in the process.

Gweyir alters the course of her spell, bringing the celestial ray behind them to further warn the wolves away from following. They watch the wagon trundle away with malevolent eyes, before turning and walking calmly back to the south side of the bridge.

 "They have given up,"  Sokol reports, as Spider quickly spins one of the wagon-trampled wolves up into a web cocoon and carries it along as a mobile snack.

  "Those ones have. We should push the donkey harder, quicken our pace before something else is sent to hamper us."  
 
 Spoiler: Combat Logs 
Kellon swings at the wolf, dealing  5  damage and KO.

The following wolves give up the chase, and combat ends.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon touches a claw to his leg and lets the healing magic soothe as they march.  "The other shoe has not dropped or I am the son of a snake! I'm all for going faster, but it feels like we're being flushed into a trap." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Cure Wounds on Kellon:  (1d8+3)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Falling back next to Ireena, Ismark regains control of the reins and pulls the donkey ahead, moving at a jog. The rest of the group falls in behind, Sokol trailing a bit with his stiff legs and slow pace. Eventually, Ireena's disguise fades as well.

It is a tiring run to the crossroads hamlet of Goul where, true to Strahd's letter, a black carriage with golden filigree in ornate swirls sits awaiting them. In front of it are two black horses with dark grey manes that flicker and swoop like smoke. The windows of the carriage are tinted black. Taking precautions, Ireena renews her disguise as they make their way past the crossroads.

 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
DC 10 Con save vs 1 level of Exhaustion for traveling at a fast pace.
 
Prehysterical
Although the wolf's bite and the muscle tearing is mostly healed, the new muscle in Kellon's leg tugs and sends sharp pain shooting up. It is not long before he is hobbling alongside the others.

 "We can't keep going like this,"  Kellon finally admits.  "If we keep up the pace at this rate, it'll just slow us to a crawl." 

Ahead, they can see the black coach. Kellon feels trepidation as he whispers to Ismarck,  "Strahd sent us a personal letter, told us that the coach would be waiting here. I've no intention of going along, but it's impossible for them not to recognize me. If things go belly-up and they take me up to the castle, just keep going. No sense in Strahd getting all of us." 
RandomWombat
Father Donavich is also huffing and puffing as the group slows down, on approach to the crossroad gates. When they pause briefly to discuss the coach, he leans forwards and sets his hands on his knees for support as he catches his breath. The rest of the group seem fine, including the donkey, and the children of course don't have to worry about walking.

  "Strahd will not be taking anyone tonight,"   Ismark answers back, continuing down the path and keeping a wary eye on the coach. But it shows no signs of movement, or of being occupied at all. The horses huff and look around, plodding their feet idly but otherwise paying no heed to the wagon rolling past.

And nothing makes a move to stop them as they pass through the gates, now overlooking the fields outside Vallaki. The Durst windmill can be seen in the distance, on its hill against the backdrop of the forest.

 "So are we visiting the windmill first, or we go and stop in town first?"  Sokol asks.
Prehysterical
A wave of relief washes over Kellon as no voice or spectral servant comes from the coach. As they near the windmill, Kellon considers Sokol's question.

 "Speaking for myself, here, but I feel like we are obligated to at least check. If the final hag is in that tower and we can corner her, it means we don't have to risk her gathering a coven of witches and becoming a bigger problem later. Besides, I found something when we were there that could use examination from folk more magically inclined than myself." 
RandomWombat
With a nod, Ismark guides the donkey down into the farming valley and through the country roads to reach the old mill. The children shudder and pull back under the tarp, dark memories of this place coming back. Ireena's disguise eventually fades again, and she self-consciously pulls her hood and cloak tighter around her.

They arrive, beneath the shadows of the standing stones and the wicked wooden spire of the mill, its blades turning lazily.  "If there are magic items you have found here, I may be able to help you,"  Ireena offers.
Prehysterical
 "There's one upstairs under a bed,"  Kellon tells her.  "It's a Tarokka card surrounded by blood runes. Not the sort of thing I feel like just sticking my hand into. Now, let me go first. If our hag is home, best the one with the shell goes first." 

With hammer and shield ready, Kellon heads for the front door.
RandomWombat
The old door is locked, but Ireena wastes no time with picks, giving it a swift high kick right where the lock is set into the door. The dry, withered wood snaps off and the door swings gently open, with nothing now connecting it to the lock in the wall.  "After you,"  she motions with a hand. Ismark and Gweyir take up positions near the door and keep watch around the tower, while the others remain close to the wagon and guard it from attack.

Much as before, the first floor is lined with baking goods mundane and malevolent. The soul larvae pool remains, but some of it is gone from when Kellon last came here. If Bella stopped here before them, she's taken some of the foul mixture with her. Some other ingredients are also missing, such as the gourd of ground up childrens' bones. Ireena covers her mouth with her elbow, grimacing at the stench of the larvae pool.

Going up, the second and third floors prove empty of life, but also untouched. A peek under the bed shows that the bloody sigils are still in place around the Tarokka card.

 "This is then? I can do this the fast way, or save my magic for later and do it the long way." 
Prehysterical
When Ireena kicks down the door, Kellon gives her a surprised look before clacking his beak cheekily.  "Maybe Strahd doesn't quite understand who he's after,"  he teases.

As expected, Bella is nowhere to be seen. As Kellon looks down at the sigils, he gives the question brief consideration before answering,  "Something tells me that Bella is not going to be back any time soon. Invoke the ritual. We can keep watch in the meantime." 
RandomWombat
 "You pick up a thing or two when zombies try to break down your door monthly. Regular exercise and a lack of patience among them,"  Ireena jests, once they are past the rank barrel of soul refuse and up into the higher floors. She lowers her arm and looks around at the disrepair of the windmill.  "I am inclined to agree this place could use tearing down and rebuilding. Much of it has been without maintenance for too long. Would need to replace much of the structure already. Even without its cursed functions." 

At the hag's bed, she kneels down and takes out a piece of chalk to begin scrawling arcane symbols around the blood sigil.  "I will let you know what I find out." 

As she works, Kellon is left with ten minutes' free time to look around the mill and its surrounding hill.
Prehysterical
That was a longer length of time than Kellon was anticipating... At the very least, something else was on his mind.

Leaving the windmill behind, Kellon makes his way over to the menhir stone circle. While he cannot understand the true purpose of the site, Kellon feels strangely drawn to it. These are the sort of churches that Kellon prefers. Not the grand ceilinged spectacle of a townsfolk's chapel, but a place connected to the earth and open to the sky.

He waves over Father Donavich from his spot by the wagon. Kellon asks the man,  "What do you know about these stones, Father? They seem older than anything else that I have seen in this land." 
RandomWombat
The broad priest pushes himself up to his feet from sitting against the side of the wagon. He walks up the hill with a few huffs to join Kellon at the henge.  "Ah,"  he breathes out, on arrival.  "These,"  He runs a hand over the patterns on one of the stones,  "Depict the cities of the gods." 

He casts an arm around at each in turn. They proceed in order: one city arrayed amidst fields of flowers, one set against the backdrop of a shining sunburst, one surrounded by a swirl of falling leaves, and one resting amidst piles of snow. Each carved into one of the four largest stones, and arranged to match the cardinal directions - winter to the north, spring to the east, summer to the south, and autumn to the west.

 "Many of the old religions of this land have been lost to time... in no small part the efforts of overzealous soldiers marching in the name of the Morninglord. But I know some,"  the priest at last seems in his element, worldly concerns growing smaller as his mind wraps itself around divine mysteries. How much of the four cities are truth and how much metaphor is hard to say; you never know with gods.  "The Morninglord ruled from his city of Summer, and his spouse Mother Night from her city of Winter. The two were cursed, and fated to be apart save for a few days in the year, when the sun and the moon meet in an eclipse." 
 "The Wolf God in your dream that you spoke of, he is said to be among those that lived in the city of Winter." 
Prehysterical
Kellon listens attentively to the priest's explanation. So, the Wolf God was perhaps an elemental spirit? Or was this more the work of fairyfolk?

 "What about spring and fall? Who ruled over them?" 
RandomWombat
 "Their worship was less common in Barovia. Even before our long isolation,"  the priest admits. He looks between the two and yawns.  "The ruler of Spring was... I believe, an angel of the Morninglord. And Autumn, I do not recall." 
Prehysterical
All this talk of gods reminds Kellon of something.  "Are there any dwarves that live in these lands? Does the god Moradin have any followers here?" 
RandomWombat
 "Dwarves?"  the priest asks, taking his hand from the standing stone and looking back at Kellon.

As they talk, Gweyir wanders over, taking a look at the standing stones herself. Her eyes settle on the center of the circle.   "I heard you talking about the shrine,"   she says, reaching out a hand to point at the eerie pile of children's teeth at the center.   "Whatever holiness it once had, I think the hags have desecrated it. I don't remember the name, but I remember a dark archfey to whom the teeth of children were sacrificed. Cults would spread her worship in secret, under the less sinister guise of the 'Tooth Fairy'."  
Prehysterical
It sounds like 'no'. Still, Kellon explains,  "Very short and stout folk. Long beards. Usually have good armor and weapons." 

Gweyir's analysis proves worrisome. Kellon asks,  "Is there any way to undo the desecration?" 
RandomWombat
 "I think I recall seeing those you speak of, among those the devil Strahd lures into Barovia,"  the priest answers.  "But no, no such people have ever lived in Barovia. Not to my knowledge." 
  "Step one would be to remove the teeth,"   Gweyir suggests, walking closer to the pile, until she pauses in hesitation.   "Then again, that could provoke a response."  
Prehysterical
 "That would be the last thing we need right now,"  Kellon says as he glares at the pile of teeth.  "We already have a handful of monsters breathing down our necks. This circle is not going anywhere. Once we settle some of the other business, then maybe we can do something about it." 

Turning and heading back down toward the wagon, Kellon continues,  "Speaking of trouble, we should keep our eyes open. Just because the hag isn't here doesn't mean that trouble can't find us."  As he nears the wagon, Kellon tries to reassure the children.  "We'll only be here for a few minutes, little ones. Then we'll be moving again. From what I understand, it's not that much farther to Vallaki." 
RandomWombat
The children nod quietly, all looking away from the fearsome presence of the mill.

 "We may need to found an Order if you plan to root out all the evils of Barovia,"  Father Donavich suggests, in a tone that says it's not quite a joke.

A creak from up above announces the rusted hinges of one of the cracked windows opening at the bedroom floor. Ireena's red hair flutters in the wind as she peeks out.  "Hey Kellon, I have some idea what we deal with now. Come up." 
Prehysterical
Ismarck's suggestion draws a snort of derision from Kellon.  "Any experience I've ever had with Orders involve lots of hand-wringing and bowing and scraping and affectations... I'd rather just do it meself. Least I know it will get done, that way." 

Kellon eagerly heads upstairs to hear the news, although his excitement has mostly to do with wanting to be away from this place.
RandomWombat
Up top, Ireena has dragged the bed away and taken a seat. The chalk circle around the sigil has burned up into little flecks of grey ash.  "Welcome back. So, first thing, the sigil. It is a kind of warding rune. If the contained object, the card, is touched without fulfilling its requirements, there will be a very painful response. From my examination, the sigil requires a touch from one of the hags that created it to safely move the card without setting it off." 
 "As for the card. If you tune yourself to its song, it will grant you the power of suggestion over others, and make you sly in trickery of words. But it will prevent you from speaking the plain truth, only lies and riddles. Strangely..."  she pulls out the Innocent card that Kellon gave her.  "I felt a curious resonance with my own card. As if when brought together, the Innocent will reverse the 'alignment' of the Temptress. Instead of speak only lies, speak only truths. Instead of trickery, words carry power." 
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Description of the Temptress' abilities added to the Tarokka card list.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon rubs the back of one hand in ghost pain, suddenly very grateful not to have tried his luck.  "Well, that's all fascinating and whatnot, but I've no desire to poke a shark in the eye. Let's put the bed back and get the Hells out of this place! Vallaki sounds really good right about now... We can always come back later to retrieve it." 
RandomWombat
 "Sounds good to me. Maybe we can find someone who can dispel sorceries,"  the noblewoman agrees, standing and dusting off her behind from the grimy blankets of the old bed. She moves it (carefully) back in place over the sigil and joins Kellon heading back down.

  "Finished then?"   Ismark asks, clearly just as eager to be off to their destination. The light of the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon, and so are the cursed clouds that come with it. Their long march has taken most of the night.
Prehysterical
The tortle bobs his head in a decisive nod.  "Aye, and not a second sooner than my liking. Let's get to kicking the dust of his place off of our heels." 
RandomWombat
Back the wagon rumbles onto the main road - Old Svalich Road, the largest artery to carry those travelers brave enough to wander in this cursed land.

The Old Svalich Road meanders into a valley watched over by dark, brooding mountains to the north and
south. The woods recede, revealing a sullen mountain burg surrounded by a wooden palisade, backed by a wall of stone bricks. Thick fog presses up against this wall, as though looking for a way inside, hoping to catch the town aslumber. But a slight halo hangs around the top of the wall, like the rainbow of a refracted sunbeam, and the fog curls away like a shying serpent.

The dirt road ends at a set of sturdy iron gates with a pair of shadowy figures standing behind them. Planted in the ground and flanking the road outside the gates are a half-dozen pikes with wolves' heads impaled on them.

One of the two shadowy figures steps forward, lit up by firelight from a pair of torches mounted outside the gate. The fire glints off of the grim-looking man's metal helmet. He certainly looks better equipped than the ragtag militia of Barovia village. Old and tarnished though his chain shirt and kettle helm may be, they are indeed metal, and are indeed armor. And the pike he carries is sharpened to a point, and well kept for its age.

 "Who goes at this hour of the morning? Are you all mad, wandering around at night?"  the man squints through the slits of his helmet at Kellon, and at Spider behind them.  "And what foul mockeries do you truck with?" 

Clearing his throat, Ismark steps forward and addresses the guard, in an equally stern tone.   "You are speaking to Ismark Kolyanovich, heir to Baron Kolyana Indirovich, late burgomaster of Barovia village. I can vouch that everyone here has fought the forces of darkness with more courage than you could muster on your brightest day, sir guard. Open up this gate and inform the Baron that I have come to visit. We have important business to discuss, beginning with our otryad cleansing the Bonegrinder mill of its wretched inhabitants."  

The man on the other side of the gate stands with his mouth slightly open, as though debating the wisdom of talking back to Ismark, or just still processing the rapid string of important sounding words.  "Ah. Er, of course. My apologies, Kolyanovich sir. At once."  He takes a large brass key from his belt and undoes the padlock sealing the iron gates, pulling them open.
Prehysterical
Vallaki proves to be an impressive bastion against the foul forces amok in the land, a stronghold protected by stone, steel, and sermons. Outside of the wolf head warning posts outside the gates, Kellon feels a surge of relief.

That good feeling is splashed with cold seawater and rank kelp at the welcome that they receive. One can only imagine how things would have gone if Ismarck was not here to directly vouch for them. Kellon grumbles and mutters in foul temper as he puts away his hammer and shield while waiting for the gate to open.  "I'll make a mockery of  him , chum-smelling piece of sharkbait..." 
RandomWombat
Going around behind the wagon and pointedly making the guard wait there with the door open, Ismark takes off his pack and pulls out a pouch. He unties the drawstring and does some counting. He lays out a pile of gleaming white, platinum coins and glittering coins of gold in the bed of the wagon and looks up at Kellon.   "I know we traded information of payment. But your help has gone above and beyond the call of duty. This is for you, Gweyir, Spider, and Sokol, and your aid to my otryad."   He pulls out another handful of platinum and gold pieces, holding them out to Father Donavich.   "And for you, Father."  

Father Donavich looks down at the outstretched and and plucks only two platinum pieces from the offering.  "I only did what my position requires... and I have much neglect to catch up on. I will accept only enough for foreseeable expenses." 
  "Then take the rest, and put it towards rebuilding the village church,"   Ismark suggests, holding the hand out again, insistently. With a thoughtful look, Father Donavich nods and finally accepts the coins.

 
 Spoiler: Loot 
Kellon's party is paid 500 gold worth of gold and platinum pieces. If split equally four ways, Kellon's share would be 125 gold.
 


Stepping around again to the head of the wagon, Ismark adds,   "I am going to take Ireena and meet with the Baron of Vallaki. I am certain you are all tired - you should find the local inn and get some rest, and food. We have many loose ends left to tie up, but we can discuss those later."  
Prehysterical
Eyes wide in surprise, Kellon scoops his share into his coin pouch. The reward is so large that he would be an outright idiot to refuse it on grounds of charity.  "Well, lucky us that no bandits live in Barovia that can smell coin like a wolf smells blood, eh?" 

As tempting as it is to take Ismarck's suggestion of finding a bed, Kellon stubbornness coincide with a protective instinct.  "With respect, serrah, I fully intend to see that these children make it to sanctuary. I would not be able to call myself a tortle otherwise."  Kellon thumps a clawed fist against his shelled chest in emphasis.
RandomWombat
Ismark lifts a palm to his forehead and lightly taps himself with it.   "Ach, right. I nearly forgot. It is not as though these little ones will magically transport themselves to St. Andral's. Father, I trust you know the way?"  
 "It's been some years... but yet. I should be able to find the church and orphanage,"  Father Donavich answers.

Gweyir scoops up her share of the money into her bag. Stepping up, Sokol does the same.  "Ah, not to be the limp biscuit, but does Spider know how money works?"  he asks. Spider crawls over and peers at the coins, then looks up at Sokol and tilts its head.

 "Those are the shinies you gave to the food people to get food! How much shiny is enough for good eats?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon is quick to interject.  "Why don't you just keep it with you, Spider? You can put it in a little web pouch on your back. If you need to give someone any shinies, I'll tell you how many shinies you need to give them, all right?"  The prospect of someone ripping off Spider due to his naivete is a thought that rankles Kellon....

To the Barovians, Kellon asks,  "So, I guess we will be taking the cart now while you two go do... noble things?"  He knows that they will go meet the local Baron, but gods only know what sorts of overly complex social niceties and ceremonies they have to do before anyone can actually talk....
RandomWombat
 "Okay Kellon! They make so many jingly noises though. Very bad for sneaking,"  Spider chatters, using a leg to scoop the remaining coins into its silk bag.

  "We will have to look into teaching him math sometime,"   Gweyir says, with a lighthearted chuckle.

 "Unfortunately,"  when the subject of 'noble things' comes up, Ireena rolls her eyes.  "If we are lucky, they will at least have some little cakes." 
  "Once our businesses are both concluded, we will meet you at the local inn to determine next steps,"   with a nod, Ismark and his sister leave, following after the guard who left with word of their arrival.

 "This way,"  Father Donavich says, moving up to take the lead with Kellon. Gweyir falls back to what was formerly his corner behind the wagon, to keep watch over the children from all sides.


In the young hours of the morning, their company strolls through the central street of Vallaki. Townsfolk just waking up regard them with familiar suspicion and death glares, not unlike Kellon's first visit to Barovia Village. While Ismark and Ireena are not there to vouch for them, being led by Father Donavich in his full clergyman's attire seems to keep any guards or onlookers from giving them more than looks.

Several strings of decorative sun-themed paper baubles are hung up on ropes between houses and across the main street. The main square in particular, with its market stalls and a large wooden stage, seems to be preparing for some kind of festival. It appears that the church is all the way across town, for it is not until the far gate is in sight that they come upon it.

On either side of the road stand two buildings. Both are in considerably better condition than Barovia chapel.

To their right is the church of Saint Andral. This slouching, centuries-old stone church has a bulging steeple in the back and walls lined with stained glass windows depicting pious saints, some of which bear cracks or blemishes from great age. A fence of wrought iron encloses a garden of gravestones next to the church, wherein a young man with a shovel resting beside him is leaning back on a bench and enjoying the cool morning air.

To their left is the Saint Andral Orphanage - so declares a wooden sign above the doors. The walls of the building are painted white, and peeling near the bottom where the walls have suffered some water damage over the years. The front windows are amateurish attempts to mimic the stained glass style of the church, clearly without the same skill and dedication as the church's original builders. Before the group stands a solid wooden door with a brass knocker.
Prehysterical
Every suspicious glare is like a knife in the back. Kellon dearly misses the isles, where tortles were a rare curiosity but not an outright 'abomination'. He feels that the city tries hard to maintain a semblance of defiance and hope, but it seems old and worn like the scraped hull of a cargo ship. As they near the orphanage, Kellon asks Donavich,  "Perhaps you should be the one to knock on the door, Father? I can't imagine anything but trouble if they see my snout first when the door opens." 
RandomWombat
Father Donavich nods tiredly and holds up a hand to contain a yawn, walking up to the short step in front of the door and rapping the knocker against the wood. A few minutes later it opens, and a middle-aged Barovian man with long, dark mutton chops opens the door. He's dressed in a warm vest and a crisp, but modest shirt. With a purse to his lip he examines the group in some confusion, until his gaze settles on the children in the cart and it molds into understanding.

 "Good morning,"  Father Donavich greets him.  "Do you have a moment?" 
 "Sure. I think I can guess what this is about,"  the man answers, stepping to the side to let in anyone who chooses to enter.

The wooden floor is pale. A set of stairs lead up above to an attic's trapdoor, and several more doors line the plain, unadorned hallway behind him. The only objects within are several shoes tucked against the wall to the left of the entrance, and a hat and coat rack to the right.

 "I imagine it is the reason most visit,"  Donavich agrees with a nod.  "Do you have room for three more children?" 

The patron of the orphanage leans out to look at the three of them, his face apprehensive.  "I wouldn't say we  have  room, exactly. We could  make  room... if they really need it? What happened to their parents?"  with the last question he leans inside and takes a quieter tone, to avoid the kids overhearing.
Prehysterical
Kellon enters behind Father Donavich as they are welcomed into the orphanage. He answers the question bluntly.  "Oh, their parents are perfectly fine. They just traded away their own children away to hags as payment."  Beneath the tortle's nonchalant façade, one can hear the suppressed rage in his voice.  "Their parents are no longer worthy of their custody." 
RandomWombat
Crossing his arms, the man bites his lower lip and sighs with a hiss between his teeth.  "That's. Alright, I can take them in if their parents aren't willing or able to care for them... but if their parents show up looking for them, I have no grounds to keep them. You understand? Do you have any proof about this, that I could present to a guard?" 
Prehysterical
 "Any  proof ,"  Kellon hisses indignantly.  "Well, aside from the word of Ismarck Kolyanovich himself, son of the former burgomaster of Barovia, why don't you ask  them ?"  He inclines his head slightly to indicate the children, his gaze hard and unrelenting on the man.

 "Why don't you ask them about being strangled, thrown in a sack, and taken to the Bonegrinder Mill southeast of here? Why don't you ask them about stuffed into cages and being force-fed to fatten them up? Why don't you ask them about watching other children be murdered for their bones to be made into flour and their fat used to flavor pies?

Do you have any idea what it's like to find children stuffed in cages like chickens? Watching them shrink back into the corner like beaten dogs and listening to them sob as they give up any hope of rescue? The fact that these children can even speak, and that their minds are intact, is a miracle unto itself..."  Kellon tries hard to keep his voice down, but his passion gives his words intensity.
RandomWombat
As Kellon barrages him with a storm of words, the man flinches, back, raising a hand to run his fingers through his hair, which soon turns to tugging at it.  "I... no, I don't know how you feel. I didn't see it. But... we get children here all the time, trying to run away from their parents for one reason or another. Plenty of them perfectly  good  reasons. Lack of food, abusive parents."  He lowers his hand with a defeated sigh.  "The ones that get physical, we can prove. But there are laws, we can't just pluck children off the street." 
 "At the Bonegrinder mill, there is surely proof of these claims. Could you send the guards there if they ask?"  Father Donavich suggests.

 "Good luck getting a single man or woman to set foot outside these walls, aside the wolf hunters,"  the patron answers exhaustedly.  "...The word of Ismark Kolyanovich would go a long way, but we cannot tell the guards hearsay. Are you able to get a written and signed account from the man of these events?"  he asks,  "I can take the children in for now, get them a meal and somewhere to sleep. No laws against charity. And when you get me a signed document, I can register them officially as residents here." 
Prehysterical
Kellon blows air through his nostrils as he forces himself to take a deep breath and calm down. Finally, he says,  "You'll get that document, you have my word on that. By the Tempest, I swear it! But... if the children don't want to eat, please... don't force it. They might look funny at food for a while." 
RandomWombat
 "I understand. We have had many with troubled hearts and troubled minds,"  the orphanage master responds. He looks past them, as Father Donavich turns to usher the children inside.

 "Come now, children. You will be safe here,"  he calls, and they climb apprehensively out of the wagon, walking inside and taking a look around.

 "You can set your..."  the man begins to tell them where to leave their shoes, but realizes that two of them don't actually have shoes.  "Right. Right, I- burn it, the cobbler is in jail isn't he?"  the man murmurs to himself.  "What are your names little ones?" 

In a chorus, they echo their names in turn.  "Lucian." "Freek." "... Myrtle." 
 "I am Patron Feddick. We are just preparing breakfast. Shall I introduce you to the other children, and our caretakers?" 

The three children look up at Kellon, like a trio of little ducklings looking for permission.
Prehysterical
Natural instinct makes Kellon hesitate, but he goes down to one knee to better look the children in the eye.  "Go on now,"  he tells them, trying his best to be comforting.  "This nice man will see that you get a real bed, and any food if you feel up to it. I will be back later today to check on you. I promise."  The tips of his claws tap the shell plating over his heart.
RandomWombat
 "Okay... thank you for all your help,"  Lucian speaks up first. Freek nods ecstatically beside him.

 "Tell Ismar and Reena thankyu for us?"  Myrtle asks shyly.

After the children have said their goodbyes, Feddick leads them further inside, and Kellon can briefly smell food - real food, not food made of children - being cooked inside. That's something he needs to watch out for now...  welcome to Barovia , the words echo.
Prehysterical
The corners of Kellon's beak stretch in what can only be a genuine smile.  "Of course, dear,"  he assures Myrtle.

For some reason, the words of the butcher come to mind as they make their way inside. Kellon asks Feddick,  "How many children do you have here?" 
RandomWombat
As the little ones make their way inside, Feddick pauses at the door and turns to answer,  "We have four others, so these three make seven in total. I think we can manage food, but beds are going to run out. I have bedrolls for situations like this, and at least one sofa that is comfortable enough to sleep on with a blanket for the cold."  The man looks out past Kellon, and his eyes can be traced to the graveyard across the street where the young man with the shovel is sitting.  "Milivoj is the oldest. He is getting close to ready to move out on his own, so we may be back down to six soon." 
Prehysterical
Following Feddick's gaze to the church, Kellon then turns to Father Donavich.  "I suppose while we're here, we should take care of your boy, eh, Father?" 
RandomWombat
 "I hope they have some way to help, at least..."  the Father says, the hesitance and fear of disappointment audible in his shaking voice. He closes the door of the orphanage behind them as they step down from it, guiding the donkey around and leading it across the main road. This early in the day, and so far on the edge of town, there is really no 'traffic' to contend with.

The old church is covered in iconography of ravens. Above the solid wooden doors, which are not marred by the claw marks that ran down Barovia Chapel's doors, is a circular stained glass window of a raven with wings outstretched before a brilliant yellow sun.

Milivoj opens his eyes and marvels at their strange procession, then gets up and begins picking weeds from among the gravestones using his hands and shovel. Apart from him, there is another man here sitting on a bench with one leg folded over the other. He is well-dressed, with a trimmed beard and folded collar.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Insight 
Unlike the others staring at them throughout the town, these two are watching them without the death glares.

Milivoj's stare looks like awe and youthful curiosity rather than malice. The man with the folded collar, however, is watching them with a very quiet smile. As if he has found what he was looking for. It reminds Kellon of the salesmen at seaside bazaars.
 
Prehysterical
How very strange that a god of sunlight would make a raven, of all animals, into a symbol... Kellon looks back at the man to show that the observation is noted before turning back to try and reassure Donavich.  "All we can do is try, Father. No matter how this shakes out, you have done your duty as a parent." 

If Donavich hesitates, Kellon between him and the door to remind the man that a fellow priest would be best greeted under the circumstances.
RandomWombat
Sokol takes up a position to watch over the cart and donkey, while Spider pokes around curiously at things among the grass. Father Donavich walks forward, and Gweyir follows behind the two of them, looking up at the raven iconography just as curiously as Kellon. The priest opens up the large wooden doors slowly and steps inside.

Beyond the first, larger set of doors is a long, thin room lined with boot and coat racks. Father Donavich politely removes his boots and sets them upon the rack, and Gweyir looks down at her muddy stompers and decides it best to do the same. Just in front of the outer doors is a smaller set of wooden doors, which Father Donavich leads the way through again.

The interior of the church proper is a tall, stone structure, which fares far better on the inside than the outside - apart from the hard to reach places far above, where cobwebs are nestled in dark corners among the rafters, a haven for Spider's miniature kin to be sure. Wooden pews are arranged in three rows, divided by a carpeted aisle that leads straight through the heart of the structure to a raised stone podium. An elderly man in attire matching Father Donavich. Behind him is a tall statue of a man in ornate armor, with long hair and a pair of dark raven wings arching around from his back. In its hands, the statue holds the solar symbol of the Morninglord out over the congregation.

Barovians are gathered in their pews in prayer, including a sorrowful old woman sobbing into her hands in a corner seat. The priest is in the process of delivering a sermon, interrupted by Father Donavich's arrival with Kellon (and the lesser curiosity of Gweyir) at his side. Father Donavich raises a hand and then touches his holy symbol, as the other priest pauses.  "Father. I apologize for my sudden intrusion. May I have a moment of your time?" 
 "Father,"  the old priest greets in a confused voice, as Barovians startled from their prayer turn to look, glaring at the intrusion. Thankfully their shepherd does not share the same look of judgement. And the weeping old woman seems to lost in her own sorrows to pay them mind.  "Father Donavich, I believe? It's been a long time. Please, everyone, be at peace and offer quiet prayers while I attend to our guests,"  he raises a hand to the crowd, who reluctantly return to their prayers.

The man steps down and walks between the pews to join them in the smaller room. He shuts the inner doors for privacy's sake.  "My fellow, you look distraught." 
 "I come seeking your aid, Father Lucian,"  Father Donavich says, his voice trembling as he struggles once again to put to words his situation.  "My boy, Father. My boy is dead. I... I hoped that this place, under the Saint's gaze, might have a way to restore the fallen?" 

Father Lucian's expression dips downwards, in sorrow.  "I see. Old friend, you have my deepest condolences... and, I am afraid, I can offer little else. Such mighty magic is as beyond me as it is you."  The news is crushing, and Father Donavich lowers his head, eyes shut tight.  "Have you attempted pilgrimage to the Abbey?"  Father Lucian suggests, softly.

 "Not... not yet, no. Next place I suppose. Next place with a hope." 
Prehysterical
Sadly, Kellon's lack of shoes means that he can only try to minimize whatever he tracks into the church.

As they enter, Kellon muses how Spider would be right at home in the rafters of this large building. He feels a bit sheepish about interrupting a sermon, but the resident Father seems more tolerable than his flock. Lucian's news is disappointingly predictable, but they were asking for a literal miracle, after all. Perhaps the Abbey would have some chance at helping Donavich.

Giving Donavich a respectful moment for his grief, Kellon asks,  "Father Lucian, why does yon elder woman weep so? Only the loss of a loved one can cause such a storm of tears." 
RandomWombat
 "I think I'm going to get some air,"  Father Donavich places a hand on Kellon's shoulder as he goes and adds,  "Though raising the dead is beyond him... maybe Father Lucian can help with your problem."  As he shuffles out, the other priest turns to face Kellon.

 "Ah. Yes, Willemina grieves for the uncertain fate of her son. The young man attempted to denounce the Baron's manners of governance, and was placed under arrest for inciting unrest,"  he folds his hands in front of his stomach, shaking his head sadly.  "Knowing how past cases have gone, the most likely sentence will be exile - which is all but a death sentence, alone in this land." 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Sorry for the delay. My computer suffered a hard crash. I hope that's not a sign of things to come...
 

Kellon scratches the bottom of his beak thoughtfully.  "Perhaps he could come with us? We're no strangers to living off the land and, not to be a braggart, we can handle ourselves in a fight. If he can swing a sword arm, we can use him. We would take care of him, of course." 
RandomWombat
 "That would be mighty kind of you... I'm afraid I can't say the boy is much of a fighter, he is a cobbler by trade. A shoemaker. But he was trained in the use of a crossbow as part of the town militia,"  Father Lucian relays.  "You could make the proposal at the jail of the guard post."  He looks away and reaches up behind his head, running a hand through his grey crown.

 "If I may, you seem to be an alright sort. And you keep good company. I - and the entire town - may be in dire need of some help. Would you be willing to listen?" 
Prehysterical
 "We could use a marksman,"  Kellon tries to reassure him. He blinks when the priest compliments him. Why did people keep saying that? Sure, Kellon enjoyed smiting evil, but he would hardly consider himself "good".  "I would be willing to listen, Father, but I make no promises. I've already got more outstanding issues than I can count on one hand." 
RandomWombat
 "Someone who offers to help an unknown stranger... you may give yourself less credit than you deserve,"  the old priest says as he steps away from the doors, near a standing candelabra in the corner of the room, motioning the others to follow. The nearby candlelight flickering across his face in the otherwise dim room gives his expression a grave outline. He speaks low,  "You are aware of the wards upon our walls, yes? Do you know of the Saint's bones that act as the catalyst for this power?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon hesitates before answering, a sinking feeling in his gut.  "I have only heard what Ismarck and Donavich have told me, which is very little.

...And now you're going to tell me there's a problem with the wards, aren't you?" 
RandomWombat
 "The bones have gone missing from their hidden resting place,"  answers Father Lucian, confirming Kellon's fears.  "The ward has held thus far, but I have not been able to locate the thief."  He reaches up and rubs his eyebrows tiredly.

  "You said they've held thus far. How long is 'thus far' going to last?"   Gweyir asks.

 "In three days, upon the end of the month, I must perform the ritual that refreshes the wards. Else the town will be unprotected,"  he answers grimly.  "I must perform the ritual before the moon reaches its peak. I desperately need help to find the bones, for the sake of everyone here." 
Prehysterical
The beginnings of a massive headache work their ugliness on Kellon. He massages the space between his eyes with two claw tips and sighs.  "So you want us, complete outsiders who just got here and don't know anything about this place, to find a thief that even you cannot locate?"  Kellon leans the top of his head against the wall, his eyes screwing shut.

 "...We'll help, but we need any information that you can give us. Anything about the bones, the Saint, who would want to take the bones or suck up to Strahd, anything you can think of..."  Straightening up, Kellon adds,  "And I need a favor from  you ... A few nights ago, a cocky werewolf left me with a parting gift. I don't suppose you're able to lift any curses?" 
RandomWombat
 "You weren't in town until just now. I can be certain you have nothing to do with it, or with anyone involved,"  Father Lucian explains.  "And you have Father Donavich with you. I trust him, even if... he is not in a good place right now."  He brings his arms up and tugs at the fabric of his sleeve.  "Saint Andral was a mighty paladin of the Morninglord, and a slayer of vampires. His bones still gleam with dawn's early light, just as the wards upon our walls do. You will know them without a doubt when you see them." 
  "You said they were hidden, so let's start with the obvious. Who knew about where they were?"   placing a hand on her hip, Gweyir looks sympathetically at Kellon's exasperation.

 "I... was the only one to know of the bones, since my predecessor passed, until earlier this month. There is a young boy from the orphanage, named Yeska. He often helps around the church, and I have begun training him to take my place one day. The boy was filled with many doubts and fears, so I showed him the bones hoping that it would steel his resolve."  Holding up his hands in front of him, Father Lucian adds,  "I do not think that Yeska had anything to do with the theft. But someone may have gotten the information from him somehow, and he will not speak to me about it. I think he is ashamed, and afraid that I will cast him out." 
 "Now, about your curse..."  the priest reaches into his robes and draws out his holy symbol.  "I do possess magic to dispel curses. I do not know if it is strong enough to purify a werewolf, I have never tried. If you wish, I can try. ... I trust that Father Donavich is helping you keep the transformation contained somehow?" 
  "Silver manacles at night,"   Gweyir confirms. The priest looks down at Kellon's wrists, still swollen and sensitive. He nods in understanding.

 "I suppose those stories had a truth to them, then." 
Prehysterical
It sounds like they can nail two fish with one harpoon at the orphanage... A place to start, at least.

Kellon opens his arms wide like he himself is embracing the light of the dawn.  "I'd be stupid not to at least try, Father. There's no guarantee that I can fight off the Beast every night and it turns me into my own worst enemy." 
RandomWombat
The Morninglord's servant reaches out and places the holy symbol against Kellon's chest. Silver lining inside the sunburst pattern stings and burns against his shell.  "By the power of the Morninglord, I cast out this evil!"  Divine power flows from the symbol into Kellon's body, and he can feel his arms and legs to weak, forcing him to a knee. Golden light like sunlight pulses in waves across his body.

As the spell fades, he feels a deep, heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. Like swallowing a stone, but dark and creeping. The wolfish hunger that had plagued him for the past couple of days is gone from its place gnawing at the back of his mind, but he can still feel the Beast's presence. Suppressed, but not expelled.

Father Lucian lowers his holy symbol, and Gweyir looks down at Kellon, putting a hand on his shoulder.   "How are you feeling?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon expected the blessing to feel unpleasant, but he is disappointed by the knowledge... no, the  feeling  that the Beast still lurked inside of him. He forces himself to stand up as he answers Gweyir's question.

 "I don't know... It's still there, sitting in my gut like an anchor, but I'm not hungry like I have been. It seems more weakened or leashed than truly defeated."  Turning to Lucien, Kellon asks,  "What about the people at the Abbey? Do you think they could cure me of this beastly curse? Donavich seems to think so." 
RandomWombat
 "If the stories of the Abbot are true, he can perform true miracles,"  Father Lucian nods, stowing his holy symbol back beneath his collar from its place dangling about.  "I did not feel that my spell was rebuffed - I believe that it worked. But much like the curses that lurk in objects, this is an insidious evil, one that is difficult to root out completely. Perhaps if you had made it to me sooner... but it does not do to dwell on what ifs."  The man reaches down to help Kellon up, and Gweyir assists as well.

  "Let me know if you feel it start to get stronger again, alright? We could always return to Father Lucian to weaken it once more. Right?"   she looks up at the priest, who nods.

 "Of course." 
Prehysterical
While the answer is not the one that Kellon had been hoping for, it is at least an improvement. Besides, the Abbey still offers some hope. He nods in response to Gweyir's request.

 "Well, it sounds like we have a lot to do. We should get some rest; me leg is still giving me problems from the wolves earlier."  Kellon asks Lucian,  "Do you know which way it is to the Blue Water Inn? We were told that would be a good place for us." 
RandomWombat
 "You will have passed it on your way here, down Old Svalich Road,"  Father Lucian points back in the direction they came from, towards the heart of the town.  "When you reach the five way crossroad at the center of town, it will be on the corner to your left." 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods in understanding.  "Thank you, Father."  To Gweyir, he says,  "Well, we better go see what to do about Father Donavich and the wagon. Man's in such a bad state that he might be tempted to sleep in the wagon..." 
RandomWombat
The two of them part with the older priest, Gweyir waving as they leave through the outer doors. He returns to his service deeper inside.

Outside, they find Father Donavich sitting on a bench facing the wall of the church, shutting out the street and the people. He's leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the grass between his feet.  "Did you have any luck?"  he asks, in a physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted voice as he forces himself up to his feet.

The young man in the graveyard is still digging up weeds, casting nervous glances at Spider who is watching him over the short stone wall. Kellon notices that the other man who had been watching them from another bench is gone, and a folded card has been slid between two boards on the cart to hold it in place. Sokol walks around the cart, plucking the card and waving it back and forth with two fingers.  "Fellow tried to make me some job offer, told him not my call. Left this for us. Recognized the name - Fiona Wachter. Related to the Durst children, yes, cousin or such?" 
Prehysterical
As they exit the church, Kellon sees Donavich on his last sealegs. He has seen that look before, once on a merchant trader who lost his ship and all of the cargo on board and left a copperless man. Kellon approaches Donavich and lays a comforting claw on the man's shoulder.  "A little, but not much. The Beast is contained, for now, but it will take a stronger blessing to fully remove it. Still, I feel like I won't have to worry about it tonight, at least.

Father, we were thinking of making our way to an inn. What did you want to do with the wagon while we rest?" 

Sokol's words provoke some serious surprise.  "Yes..."  This could be either a good sign or a bad omen... Kellon takes the card from Sokol and examines it.
RandomWombat
 "I am glad that you found some aid,"  the Father speaks, in a voice strained by an attempt to be cheerful - or at the very least positive.  "We should see if the inn has a stable to keep the donkey and the wagon. If not, I think I have heard of a storage yard in town." 

Sokol walks over and presents Kellon with the card, as Gweyir and Father Donavich begin leading the donkey away from the church to find a place to rest.

 
 Spoiler: Card 
 Greetings, travelers,

I am looking for able warriors to help me with a job, for the benefit and safety of this town. If my servant, Ernst, has given you this card then he believes that you look capable. I am willing to pay generously for skilled help. If you are interested, please visit me at Wachterhaus to discuss terms in person at your leisure. These matters are of import, but not urgent.

Wachterhaus can be found along the road north to Lake Zarovich. You will know it by the unfortunate moss infestation.

~Lady Fiona Wachter 
 
Prehysterical
Kellon reads through the note before blanching and stowing it away.  "You know, for us being seen as monsters wherever we go, folk certainly want a piece of us. That can wait. At the very least, we can tell them about the House. They are the rightful inheritors, although no one would want the thing in that state..." 

Too many things to think about. Time to head to the inn and recuperate.
RandomWombat
  "Peasants are superstitious and dumb everywhere. I think if anywhere has an  excuse , it's here,"   Gweyir comments, shooting a look at some people watching them through a window. As soon as she makes eye contact they draw the curtains shut.   "Guess nobles get education and aren't as easy to surprise. Or something. I dunno."  
 "Hey now, I used to be one of those peasants!"  Sokol protests with mock offense.

  "Yeah, but you're a weirdo like us now."  

Rumbling over the cobblestone road into the center of town, the group comes up upon the Blue Water Inn. Gray smoke issues from the chimney of this large, two story wooden building with a stone foundation and sagging tile roof, upon which several ravens have perched. A painted wooden sign hanging above the main entrance depicts a blue waterfall. A dirt path leads off the road and up to the establishment, splitting off to trail around behind it. A small sign to the left of the building states that there is a stable in the back.

Part of the structure forms an overhang above the entrance, and beneath it a circular stone well with a wooden bucket and rope attached to a winch, to be lowered down and filled. To the right near the intersection, and around back towards the stables, there are two smaller sheds off to the side. One of them is stacked with a pile of lumber beside it for firewood, under a small roof and resting on a stand to keep it from getting too wet in the rain. Another raven sitting atop the firewood shed watches the group approach the building with intelligent eyes.

An exterior wooden staircase leads up along the side of the building to their right, to a door into the second floor.

Near the entrance is a man wearing a coat and dark glasses, leaning up against the wall and picking his teeth with a toothpick. He takes note of them.  "No fighting inside,"  the apparent bouncer states simply as they approach.  "Stabling is five silvers, or complimentary with a stay." 
Prehysterical
The spying raven draws a suspicious eye from Kellon as he nods at the bouncer's instructions. He turns to Donavich and instructs him,  "Take the wagon to the back, Father. We will settle inside with the owner." 
RandomWombat
Taking the donkey by the reins, Father Donavich nods and leads it around behind the inn as the rest of the group steps inside in their strange menagerie. The wooden doors creak open, and swing shut behind them. The double doors leading into the taproom can be barred shut from within. The tavern is not packed, but there are no empty tables, and many eyes turn to look and see who's arrived.

Damp cloaks hang from pegs in the entrance portico. The tavern is packed with tables and chairs, with narrow paths meandering between them. A bar stretches along one wall, under a balcony that can be reached by a wooden staircase that hugs the north wall. Another balcony overhangs an entrance to the east. All the windows are fitted with thick shutters and crossbars. Lanterns hanging above the bar and resting on the tables bathe the room in dull orange light and cast shadows upon the walls, most of which are adorned with wolf heads mounted on wooden plaques.

To the right of the entrance, a table for two is occupied by a pair of gruff-looking men wearing wolf pelts and hide armor. Beside them, bows, quivers and hatchets are tucked away against the wall. Both men have grim faces with distant, haunted looks in their eyes as they drink from mugs of wine. Their distant looks at least lack the signature glare of Barovia, which cannot be said for much of the peasantry - and one nobleman to the left of the entrance.

Further to the right, at a larger table beneath the stairs and balcony, sit a pair of men in similar dark glasses to the man outside. Unlike the rest of the patrons their mugs contain only water. Opposite them, another large table on the far left side of the room pokes out of a nook in the wall with many windows offering an ample view. There, a fancifully dressed man with slicked back grey hair, round spectacles, and a beakish nose sits reading a book. His eyes flick up only briefly to take in the new arrivals. Kellon also notices a distinct point to his ears, though not as pronounced as a full-blooded elf.

Mounted on braces and tucked into alcoves behind the bar are three wine barrels, attended by a man and a woman. The woman has black raven feathers woven into her hair in a fan that frames her up-do. She is currently occupied serving two young, drunk-looking men in puffy shirts and well-trimmed haircuts. The nudge each other and look back at the group, pointing and whispering.

The second, male bartender is cleaning mugs and glasses in front of an emptier section of the bar. He has short hair and a vest worn over his shirt.

 "Are we allowing animals in here now?"  one of the grim hunters asks, looking at Spider and then to the woman at the bar. His tone doesn't carry the typical accusation of a Barovian pointing out something strange. Only the tempered caution of a man who's faced many such beasts.

 "Is your spider well trained?"  the feather-haired woman asks the group.
Prehysterical
A grim place, but secure in and of itself. Kellon wonders how these lands can support enough wolves to adorn so many poles and plaques... Come to think of it, what did they  eat ? He has not seen a single deer or buffalo the entire time he has been here... And what is with the strange men wearing glasses? This land is full of strangeness...

Brushing away mental cobwebs, the turtle-man laughs at the question.  "Trained or self-taught, I couldn't tell ya!"  Kellon leans over and whispers to Spider,  "All right, lad, time to practice using the shinies. Take one gold coin from your satchel, go place it on the counter, and tell the nice lady, "One wolf steak, please!"" 
RandomWombat
 "Okay!"  Spider crawls over to the bar beside the two fops, who startle away as the townsfolks tare in awe at the talking spider. Following instructions, Spider draws one gold coin from the silken pouch and deposits it on the counter.  "One wolf steak please! Uncooked please!" 

The woman regards Spider with a curious quirk of her brow, picking up the coin and testing it with a bite. One of the two at the counter protests,  "Am I supposed to just stare at some big creepy spider munching on raw meat while I'm tryna enjoy my drink?" 
 "Well, the spider's paying with real money, and paying customers are welcome in this business,"  the woman states as she slides the gold coin under the counter and deposits eight silver coins in front of Spider.  "Your change, sir... that's the money you get back."  She turns and walks past the other bartender, to a wooden door with a small window in it where note papers are hung up on a spinning wireframe not unlike a weathervane. She plucks a fresh piece of paper from a pad on a small shelf near the door and swirls her hand in arcane patterns, inky writing appearing on the page.  "Speaking of paying customers. I should remind you that your tab will be accruing interest soon, Nikolai,"  she says, walking back to her spot after hanging up the note with the others.

 "Er, of course, yeah. Heh, no problem,"  the young man coughs into his arm and shuts up, sipping at his mug.

 "Your steak will be brought out soon as we get to the order in line,"  the woman tells Spider, who waits eagerly.

Gweyir chuckles and goes up to the bar to take a seat next to Spider, while Sokol pats Kellon on the shell.  "Not so hungry ay, and would not want to spoil nobody's appetite with the smell. I will be in the yard, maybe have a talk with the fellow out there,"  the undead warrior relays, slipping back out of the inn.
Prehysterical
Even if Spider hadn't already had money for his food, the look on the townsfolk's faces would have been worth the price. Kellon gives a wave to acknowledgement to Sokol before taking a seat next to Gweyir. He wonders why the woman uses magical ink when ordinary ink would suffice.

Before Kellon can join in the meal, first things first. He addresses the woman behind the counter.  "We were told that this would be a good place to rest. We'll be needing some rooms. Two doubles is best, but we could make do with three singles." 
RandomWombat
The woman comes a few paces closer to address them, shuffling around to switch places with the other bartender who takes her place dealing with the fops.  "We have three rooms available right now,"  she says, setting the tips of her fingers on the countertop in front of her as she speaks.  "Two doubles, and one four-bed. The doubles are 6 silvers a night each, the four-bed is 8 silvers a night. Stabling for any animals is included in the price, as is a breakfast of eggs and toasted bread. We also offer a heated or cold bath at preference for 1 silver, or access to the banya for 2 silvers." 
  "Banya?"   Gweyir asks, the term as unfamiliar to her as it is to Kellon.

 "Ah, travelers from beyond Barovia are you? The banya is a steam room,"  the woman explains. A small bell rings at the windowed door and a serving girl picks up a few other meals to deliver to other customers. The wheel spins around and Spider's order is next on the queue.
Prehysterical
A hot bath and a steam room... Gods, that sounds nice! Kellon reminds himself that there is much to do and no time for idle luxuries and indulgences.  "We will take the four-bed,"  Kellon tells the woman. He begins plucking out the silver pieces from his coin pouch as he informs her,  "Father Donavich is currently taking the wagon to the back."  Kellon sets the coins down on the counter and adds in a low voice,  "Dartanya sent us, if that makes any difference..." 
RandomWombat
The woman's expression shifts at the mention of Dartanya's name. She nods discreetly while she scoops up the coins, then goes to the kitchen door. The chime rings again. A plate of raw steak is brought out and set in front of Spider, and thankfully Kellon doesn't feel the gnawing of any hunger that isn't is own.

 "You can reach your room using the outside staircase. It's at the end of the balcony,"  she picks a keyring off of several nails in the wall behind her, setting it on the bar counter. She nods her head upwards, drawing attention to the balconies with railings that overlook the tavern floor.  "Can I get the rest of you anything to eat?"  she draws a slate out from under the counter, written on in chalk, and sets it on front of them.

 
 Spoiler: Menu 
Bowls
Each bowl comes with a small dinner roll.
Rabbit Stew: 3 copper
Mushroom Barley Soup: 3 copper
Borscht: 3 copper
Egg and Meat Skillet: 1 silver

Plates
Each plate comes with a baked or mashed potato, or a piece of cheese for 2 copper extra.
Eggs: 3 copper (prepared as desired)
Sausage: 6 copper
Wolf Meat: 2 silver
-Options: Steak, Rib, Brisket
Direwolf Meat: 6 silver
-Options: Steak, Rib, Brisket
Vegetable Platter: 3 copper
Sturgeon: 1 silver

Drinks
Water: Free
Beer: 2 copper
Wine: 2 silver
Vodka: 4 silver
Goat Milk: 1 silver
 
Prehysterical
Kellon accepts the keys with a grateful nod. Reading the slate, Kellon's eyes perk up a little.  "I will take the baked potato from Spider's order; he won't eat anything besides the steak. I will have the sturgeon. Been too long since I've had the taste of fish. I'll pair that with a piece of cheese and a beer."  He fishes out the silver piece and the four coppers from his coinpurse.
RandomWombat
The woman nods and takes note.  "Alright, I'll have it brought out with your meal instead once it's finished. And the rest of you?"  she looks up as the door opens again, Father Donavich dragging his feet tiredly as he walks over to the bar.

  "I'll have what he's having,"   Gweyir points at Kellon.

Father Donavich sits on the opposite side of Kellon, at the edge of the bar. It's a little cramped between the two of them, neither of whom are exactly slim. Casting a look at the menu, he pulls out some coppers and lays them on the counter.  "Just a sausage. Potato mashed. And some water."  He stifles a yawn as the woman scrawls down their orders with magic and puts it up at the window.

Their mugs of beer and water are quickly served up.
Prehysterical
 "We got you a bed. I'm assuming that you won't be asking for shelter at the church,"  Kellon informs the man as he makes his assumption.

Looking back to the raven-haired woman, Kellon asks,  "None of my business, but why the magical ink for the orders?" 
RandomWombat
 "I won't complain about a bed,"  Father Donavich answers, with a hint of dry humor in his voice.

The woman turns to face them and smiles,  "Oh, this?"  she reaches up and taps the back of the note with her finger.  "Just saves on costs. Ink isn't cheap, you know. 'S why most common folk use chalk."  She points at the slate menu lying on the counter.

Soon their food is ready, and brought out. A plate with several slices of fresh sturgeon steak is laid out in front of Kellon, with Spider's steaming baked potato, and a piece of white goat cheese on the side. Gweyir gets a similar plate, while Father Donavich gets one with a curled piece of sausage wrapped around a central mass of mashed potatoes.
Prehysterical
Kellon gently nods his head in understanding of her point. He hadn't considered that.

He takes an appreciative sniff of the sturgeon before digging in with his claws. Kellon alternates between the fish, potato, and cheese with swigs of his beer.  "You know,"  Kellon comments after a mouthful,  "you Barovians know how to cook, at least. Been to a few taverns where the cook wouldn't know a sausage from a jellyfish." 
RandomWombat
 "Few things in Barovia are very pleasant to the senses, you may have noticed,"  the raven-haired woman replies with a laugh in her voice. She flicks her glance over at the two drunks at the other end of the bar,  "Least of all the men. Fortunately for me, I landed an excellent chef as well as an excellent husband. We make the most of what we have." 
Prehysterical
After eagerly finishing his meal, Kellon looks to the others and instructs,  "All right, let's get some rest. There is a lot to do in the coming days."  He then looks across the counter and asks the owner,  "There should be two others coming in later, a brother and a sister. Ireena and Ismarck, that'll be them. If they ask about us, please tell them that we will be upstairs." 
RandomWombat
  "Yeah, it'll probably be up early tomorrow to get stuff done,"   Gweyir still hasn't finisher her food, not nearly as ravenous as Kellon, or Spider, or the exhausted Father Donavich, all of whom have cleaned their plate. Figuratively speaking, in Spider's case. The husk of dry raw meat is sitting on its plate.   "Should we wrap this thing up and try'n cook it into jerky or something later?"  
 "I can see what we can do, and have it sent up to your room. Consider it on the house, you already bought the food after all,"  the innkeeper offers.  "I'll send your friends up when they arrive. Rest well." 
  "Anyways, you guys head up without me. I'll be up once I'm done."  


Kellon, Father Donavich, and Spider make their way outside. Sokol is leaning on the edge of the well and chatting with the bouncer.  "-does he get the food for all of these festivals?"  he's in the middle of asking as they exit.

 "He doesn't. At this rate it's going to be a hard winter." 

Up the wooden staircase that hugs the outside wall of the inn, they come to a sturdy wooden door and cross over inside. This roughly twenty-foot-long balcony provides a clear view of the bar and has a wooden railing carved with raven motifs. Gweyir can be seen below finishing her food. The taproom's many lanterns illuminate the rafters and cast ominous shadows on the peaked ceiling. The door behind them, much like the main door of the tavern, can be barred shut from the inside.

Across from them, another balcony can be seen. It stretches the full length of the taproom, with the same raven motifs upon its railings. The stairs from down on the tavern floor lead up to it.

There are three rooms here, numbered 2, 3, and 4. Kellon's key is stamped with a small '4' on it, and it proves accurate, opening up room 4. Four plain beds with straw mattresses line the north wall of this well-lit room. Each bed comes with a matching footlocker to store clothing and other belongings. A table and four chairs occupy the corner across from the door. An oil lamp resting on the table casts a bright yellow flame.

Father Donavich wastes no time finding one of the beds to practically fall down into.

 "Do you think the lady will mind if I make webs in her borrowing nest?"  Spider chirps quietly beside Kellon.
Prehysterical
Kellon waves goodnight to Gweyir before heading up to their room. It seems like this is a welcome, secure location for them to rest their heads and isolate themselves from the staring townsfolk.

Spider's question prompts a bit of panic in Kellon before he gets a hold of himself.  "Er, I don't think she would like that, lad. Honestly, I think you would be better off setting up webs in the rafters."  He points up toward the ceiling.  "Easier to clean up that way. No having to wash the webs off bedding." 

His own settling down is not quite as abrupt as Father Donavich's, but Kellon still sags gratefully into the bedframe. Honestly, he can sleep just as well on sand, rock, or wood, but there is something comforting about being able to lay down onto something soft. The tortle withdraws his limbs into his shell, giving himself over to slumber for just a little while. Plenty to do when he rises... At least they don't need to set a watch this time.
RandomWombat
Sleep comes swiftly, after settling down. And for once not plagued by visions of wolves lurking in the cove. What exactly Kellon dreams is indistinct, fleeting, and dismissed from mind the moment he wakes - as it should be. What wakes him is a knocking at the door of the room.

A shape in the darkness up above creeps through the rafters, moving with quiet tapping footsteps across the ceiling and down the wall. Spider descending from its nest to investigate. Kellon also notices Gweyir lying in one of the other beds. She must have been let into the room at some point while he was still out.

A careful peek through the crack reveals Ismark and Ireena on the other side, as well as a smaller figure he likewise recognizes. Dartanya holds out a jingling bag in her hand.  "A partial refund. For the friends and family special. A reward for helping those kids."  Inside is half of what their group paid, including for the rooms - 7 coppers and 4 silvers for Kellon's share.

  "You've not had any trouble, I hope? If not, perhaps we should return when you are better rested?"   Ismark asks.

 "Ismark and I were invited to stay with the Baron tonight,"  Ireena adds, quietly so as not to be overheard by anyone eavesdropping from the tavern floor below.
Prehysterical
Sweet rest descends upon the tortle and Kellon wakes up feeling refreshed. He unboxes himself from his shell at the knock at the door. Upon seeing the visitors, Kellon opens the door wide to let them in and accepts the coins back with a dip of his beak.  "We got two of the hags, but one of the daughters escaped. Our troubles are not over yet." 
 "Nay, no trouble here. Quite accommodating, as a matter of fact."  Kellon moves to sit on the side of the bed, but thinks better of yet and remains standing.  "I wish it was all good news, however."  He makes sure to drop his voice as he informs them in a grave tone,  "The local priest has asked us to recover the bones of the saint that protect this town. Somebody has stolen them and we only have a few days before the wards fail. A young boy at the orphanage has been acting suspicious since they went missing, so he's our best lead. Since we're going over there anyway, I need your help, yer lordship. The folks down at the orphanage need a witness to vouch that the children's parents abandoned them. Something written, so make it as flowery and noble-like as it pleases you."  Kellon waves his arm in an off-handed, dismissive manner.
RandomWombat
Dartanya nods,  "I'm still keeping a bird's eye out about your missing girl. I will find you when I know anything new,"  the girl turns with a small wave over her shoulder, before slipping out past the Kolyana siblings to leave them to their own business.

Ismark and Ireena step inside, taking seats at the table. They speak in low, soft voice so as not to wake the deeply slumbering Father Donavich. Kellon can hear from a small groan behind him that Gweyir is already starting to stir from their arrival.

  "Of course it's not so simple,"   rubbing his forehead and brow with one hand, Ismark leans back in the chair and sighs.   "You will have my word in writing, then. I will come to the orphanage tomorrow and deliver it in person, that there be no doubt."  
 "I will come along to help, as well,"  Ireena adds.  "Surely my brother won't complain that I travel around the safety of town?" 
  "Safe for now... but yes, I have no complaints."  
 "So glad I have your permission,"  she responds dryly.  "Time is short. If you want to cover more ground, are there any other leads I can help chase?"  Ireena asks.
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head sadly.  "Unfortunately, the boy is our only lead. He is the only one besides the resident priest that knew the location of the reliquary. If you want to help, however, I'd like you to use that truth magic of yours to tell me more about these."  Kellon fishes out the yet-unidentified Tarokka cards for Ireena's inspection.
RandomWombat
 "Sure, allow me to take a look,"  Ireena lays them out on the table next to her, beginning the process.  "I'll head back when it's done, Ismark. You don't need to stay and babysit me,"  she adds, glancing up at Ismark out of the corner of her eye. Hanging on the wall behind her, Spider watches the process curiously.

The nobleman crosses his arms and meets her sideways look.   "I will be outside."   He gets up and steps out, carefully closing the door behind him to not wake up those still asleep.

Once the process is complete upon the first card, the Esper, Ireena slides it aside, back over to Kellon.  "This one allows you to cast your inner eye out beyond yourself, and to move things with a thought. It reinforces the mind against tampering, but the hardened consciousness is brittle beneath its outer shell,"  she recites, drawing her hand back.  "It has a bond with another card called the Ghost. When someone uses both, they can move things wherever their inner eye is cast, not just near their physical form." 

Taking the minor card, the Merchant, she begins its examination next.
Prehysterical
The analysis proves useful. Kellon eyes the card with a new appreciation. It might come in handy.

He chooses to leave the card alone for now and awaits her analysis of the other card. Hopefully, it will be worth the investment...
RandomWombat
Coming out of her trance over the card, Ireena picks it up between the tips of her fingers and holds it out.  "This one is less potent than the others. Part of a set, only a tiny part of the whole. It calls out to the Coins, the suit of traders and thieves, of the material and tangible. When gathered, they will grant their collector an extra touch of talent in all their worldly affairs. And... if united with the full set of Swords, the Coins will also give the collector a keener blade to cut the unwary." 
Prehysterical
So... a long-term investment. Not one they can immediately benefit from now... The thirty gold price tag is suddenly feeling very miserly to Kellon. He fights to keep the disappointed look from his face.

 "Thank you, Ireena. So, tell me honestly, how did your meeting with the Baron go? Will he allow you to stay within the walls?" 
RandomWombat
 "He seemed like kind of a loon, to be honest,"  she replies, leaning back in her seat and rolling her eyes.  "Obsessed with these festivals of his, for some reason. This next one is called the 'Festival of the Blazing Sun' and apparently they're burning a giant sun effigy in the town square. Sounds like a recipe for accidents if you ask me."  Ireena sighs and adds,  "He let us stay though, and I know better than to antagonize people like that over their eccentricities." 
Prehysterical
Kellon scratches his chin curiously.  "Huh... Sounds interesting. If I didn't feel like a monkey juggling fruit at the moment, I'd be tempted to meet with him."  He vaguely remembers overhearing Sokol talk about the festival. Might be worth getting information from him.

 "Did you talk to Sokol on your way in?" 
RandomWombat
 "We exchanged greetings,"  with a light shrug of her shoulders, Ireena brushes some hair out of her face.  "He is standing guard out by the steps. I guess he doesn't need to sleep..."  she pauses and then clarifies,  "My brother told me, about Sokol's situation that is. He seems alright, so I will try to withhold any unease." 
Prehysterical
 "Don't hold it against him,"  Kellon tries to reassure her.  "How he didn't go mad from all those years trapped in the bowels of the Durst House, I will never know. He is also greatly worried by the disappearance of his daughter. The whole reason Gweyir and I left the village in the first place was to help him find her. He's forcing a brave face right now, but I am sure he will become the happiest zombie you've ever seen when he finds his girl!" 
RandomWombat
 "I will try, but I'm sure you understand - even more than most, undead are... they are a sore subject for me,"  Ireena reaches up and rubs absent-mindedly at her neck, where Kellon can see the red dots of a few old scars.  "Do you have any leads on his missing girl? Maybe I can look around for  that , while you investigate the bones?" 
Prehysterical
 "Oh, I understand,"  Kellon admits.  "Before I met him, I would have told you that the dead should stay dead. Sokol has proven himself time and again as a worthy friend.

As for the girl..."  Kellon scrapes the tips of his claws gently against the top of the table.  "Her name is Gertruda. She's thirteen or fourteen years old. Went missing several days ago. All we know is that she ran west of the village and the hags didn't get a hold of her. Not a lot to go off of, I know, but it's all we have." 
RandomWombat
 "If she made it as far as Vallaki maybe somebody's seen her. I will ask around,"  Ireena pushes herself up out of her chair and fixes her sleeves.  "And I should let you and the others get some rest. Fare well on your investigation tomorrow." 
Prehysterical
Kellon's thankful nod stops sharply at Ireena's farewell.  "'Tomorrow'? Lass, if we don't find the bones before the wards fail, it won't matter if it's day or night. My sleep is so off, anyway, that it matters little. Every hour counts now. I think we'll be staying here while in town, so just leave a note with the owner in case we're not around. Good luck, yer ladyship." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon is completely rested, correct?
 
RandomWombat
With a short laugh, Ireena admits,  "I'd almost forgotten today  is  tomorrow. In that case, hope you are all rested enough."  She offers a nod in return, and makes her way out.

Gweyir groans and rolls over on her bed.   "Did I hear something about getting up?"  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
It's partway through the long rest, about 4 hours. He could cut it short here and cure his Fatigue, along with a Constitution save to gain half the other benefits of a long rest (recover 50% of max HP, regain half of spent spell slots, etc.).
 
Prehysterical
For a moment, Kellon is sorely tempted to begin investigating immediately. He  could  do it, if needs must, and the hours did count. It is also important, however, that they are completely ready for whatever the night brings. There is no doubt that whoever had taken the bones of the saint would not relinquish them without a fight.

After a moment of hesitation, Kellon answers,  "Nay, lass, I was just saying that we can't wait until tomorrow to find out what's going on. I will get a few more hours of rest and then we can search for the reliquary as long as need be. It's going to be another long night, my gut tells me." 
RandomWombat
Gweyir doesn't reply, and seems to drift back off to sleep lying on her back this time. The call of sleep is a siren song, and Kellon soon drifts off as well.

Then, eventually, Kellon feels a nudging at his side. Two appendages prodding at the exterior of his shell and rocking him on the soft feather mattress... raven feathers, perhaps? A brief thought ponders at not seeing a glimpse of a chicken, and where the eggs come from. Then his eyes flicker open and spy Spider nudging him awake.  "Hello! Are you hungry?" 

A glance outside the window shows it's still daylight out, and Kellon feels more refreshed. Their group arrived fairly early in the morning, so the day isn't wholly gone. By the position of the sun's light falling on the floor through the surprisingly un-dusty windows, it's creeping into the afternoon now.
Prehysterical
At Spider's prompting, Kellon emerges from his shell and stretches out his limbs. The soreness in his leg seems to have worked itself out.

 "Nay, though thank you, lad. If you're still hungry, you can grab a quick bite, but we need to be going after that. We need to see a little boy at the orphanage. He might know about what happened to the bones that keep this town safe." 
RandomWombat
 "Okay. I'll get small food so I don't get an indigestion!"  spider exclaims, before skittering away and finding its way out the door.

The other beds creak as Gweyir and Father Donavich begin to stir as well; the former faster than the latter, swinging out of bed and stretching with a yawn.   "Weird sleep hours always feel awful don't they? Oh well. Orphanage right?"  
Prehysterical
As Spider scuttles away, Kellon turns to answer Gweyir.  "Och, you're not wrong. Still, nothing like lycanthropy to turn your sense of time of day, ah? But yes, we will head out for the orphanage shortly. Spider is grabbing a light snack. I think I will go outside and commune with the wind spirits. I will be asking them for a favor today." 
RandomWombat
  "Once we find those bones, I'm coming back here for a hot bath,"   Gweyir stands up and straightens herself out, starting to put on her armor over her clothes.   "Been wearing these for days. I feel disgusting."  

Still struggling with the internal debate of get up or remain lying down, Father Donavich is staring past the door at the wall, with his hands pressed against the mattress in preparation for a liftoff that hesitates to come.

A trip out across the interior balcony sees Spider down among a new set of befuddled townsfolk, purchasing something at the counter from the raven-haired woman. Pushing out of the door at the end of the 'hall', Kellon finds Sokol leaning against the wall on watch. He seems to have picked up the posture and stance of the bouncer out front.
Prehysterical
 "Something tells me that you wouldn't make a good island hermit,"  Kellon quips as he exits the room.

On his way out, Kellon gives a wave of acknowledgement to Sokol before journeying down the stairs. He tries to find a decent piece of earthy ground before closing his eyes and entering a trance. Kellon listens for the whisper of the wind and focuses on its movement across his scales, moving his arms in waving conjunction with the air currents. As the air switches directions, so do his arms and hands, acting like a palm in the ocean breeze. He says nothing, simply listening to what the wind has to say.
RandomWombat
  "Not all druids like living inside a layer of dirt and brambles,"   Gweyir comments after him, before the door closes shut. Sokol returns Kellon's gesture, probably with an unsettling grin behind his scarf.

The main street is busy now, men and women going to and fro in the midst of the business of the day. There are people hanging up hastily painted ornaments on strings between the houses, with mentally drained looks on their faces. Kellon closes his eyes and shuts out all the noise and colors, feeling the gentle wind.

It is a mild day. The sun is almost visible through the eternal layer of overcast that shrouds Barovia, and the feeling of the oppressive Mist is nowhere to be felt. The air within Vallaki feels just a little less doom and gloom. An eye in the storm, purchased through the bones of a saint.
Prehysterical
It's not enough that Strahd's reign hangs over these people like a cloud and that creatures of nature bend to his will. The very elements in this place are tainted just from exposure to the vampiric magic. Even a "glorious" day like today would be considered gloomy by any other standard. There is nobility in surviving rough conditions, but life is hard enough in these lands without the constant threat of wolf raids and serving as blood fodder for the undead.

Taking one final deep breath, Kellon opens his eyes and waits for his companions to join him.
RandomWombat
Footsteps on the wooden stairs announces their approach, as Gweyir steps down from the door. Behind her, Father Donavich pulls himself forward with a hand on the railing, eyes still unfocused and groggy. He restrains himself from covering his eyes from the sunlight; perhaps out of a desire not to offend his Morninglord.

  "Not a morning person are you, preacher?"   Gweyir asks behind her, apparently catching on to the irony.

 "We all have our trials,"  he answers, containing a yawn with his hand.  "You'll feel it when you're older." 

Tilting her head, Gweyir regards him with a raised brow, then recognition clicks.   "Oh right. Not used to elves around here, huh? Wouldn't be so sure about that, we stay spry for a while!"   she laughs to herself. The two of them round the corner to join Kellon in the yard, and Sokol pushes off of the wall to stand near the woodpile.

The main doors of the tavern swing open and Spider crawls out, carrying a hunk of meat hanging from its fangs.

 "Good morning, my friends!"  Sokol announces once they're all assembled.  "Who is ready for some  reverse graverobbing ?" 
Prehysterical
 "Don't be too hard on the man, Gweyir,"  Kellon interjects gently.  "The Eye of the Gods is too intense for for any to hold its gaze...Besides, I'm sure that Donavich here has had many sleepless nights."  His tone makes it clear exactly what he means by that.  "And not all of us get to age so gracefully, elf. My kind are lucky to see fifty summers!" 

Sokol's quip provokes some sudden consideration from Kellon. He scratches at the rim of his plastron as he muses,  "Graverestoring? Gravereturning? Gravesaving? Bah!"  Kellon shakes his head as he realizes the uselessness of the exercise.  "Sokol, what did you learn from your new friend about this festival going on? We overheard you talking about it a little on our way to bed." 
RandomWombat
  "It's always strange when the topic of age comes up with people from other species,"   Gweyir adds, with a mix of humor and wistful sadness in her voice, looking up at the underside of the stairs.   "Humans and half-blooded I was friends with as a child are old and grey now."  
 "Turns out, they have many festivals. Monthly, sometimes weekly! It is all very tiresom my new friend says. But anyone who tells Baron so is said to be disturbing the peace, lately even committing treason,"  the old zombie explains with a shrug.
Prehysterical
 "Frequent festivals and celebrations are often used as distractions by incompetent rulers,"  Kellon observes disapprovingly.  "But that is none of our concern. Hopefully, the boy at the orphanage can give us some idea of what happened. If not... well, it's a good thing that my kind can't sweat." 
RandomWombat
  "Should we get going, then?"   Gweyir takes a few steps towards the main road and pulls her hood back up around her head.

 "Maybe Ismark will be waiting for us already, ay?" 

The group gathers and gets ready to set out. The town is busier now, and so there are fewer shut windows as they move, and instead crowds moving aside as they pass. The orphanage awaits them further down the road, where they can see the bell tower of the church standing tall.
Prehysterical
 "Ismarck said that he would drop by tomorrow morning. But yes, let's not stand here flapping our gums." 

They navigate through the growing crowds toward the orphanage down the road.
RandomWombat
  "Oh yeah, those two still haven't slept have they?"  

In spite of the suspicion cast their way, none of the townsfolk or guards are willing to stand up to their eclectic and well-armed band. Soon they arrive between the church and orphanage. Two small girls are in the yard playing with a cloth ball they've slung up over a tree branch, batting it back and forth as it swings between them. They stop in their game to gawk at the new arrivals and the one supposed to be batting the ball back gets smacked in the side of the face by it.

In the nearby window, a woman is watching the girls through curtains that have been drawn aside. When she spots their group's approach, she turns and says something to someone out of view.

When they reach the door, Patron Feddick opens it up to greet them.  "Father Donavich, and company. Hello again. Were you able to obtain the documents?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon is getting rather tired of being under suspicion for the sheer crime of existing. When he catches someone glaring at him, he glares right back until the offender looks away. Folk like these are contemptuous until they have to look you in the eye.

As they approach the orphanage, Kellon winces slightly as the ball smacks the little girl right in the face. He responds to Feddick's inquiry,  "Not at this moment. Ismarck and and his sister Ireena are tired from marching all night. He will be by tomorrow morning with the documents.

In the meantime, I should like to speak with one of the children... What his name... Yeska. Yes, that was it." 
RandomWombat
 "It's a bit of an unusual request,"  the patron purses his lips in thought.  "Where did you hear of Yeska? And is there any particular reason?"  he asks. The man doesn't look particularly tense or worried.
Prehysterical
 "'Tis unusual, aye, 'specially as we've never met the boy. Father Lucian asked us to speak to him. He fears that something troubles the boy, but Yeska won't tell him what's wrong. He is hopeful that he might open up to someone else, instead." 
RandomWombat
Features softening into a quiet nod of understanding, Feddick motions them inside.  "I understand. Children sometimes find it easier to open up to strangers than to authority figures. Afraid of being punished for doing something wrong." 
 "Perhaps I should hang back then. If I am with you, he will guess easily who sent you,"  Father Donavich steps aside to let the others file in. Gweyir steps inside and Spider crawls after her, oblivious to Feddick tensing up as it passes. Staying back near the bushes and shrubs, Sokol looks both ways down the street.

Into a door they are led, to a larger living space where children and caretakers linger around. The kids are drawing with chalk and charcoal on small stone slates.
Prehysterical
Kellon nods his agreement with Donavich's assessment before entering the orphanage. Upon seeing the collection of children, Kellon asks Feddick in a low voice,  "Which one is Yeska?" 
RandomWombat
Feddick looks past Kellon's shell through the door and nods just to the left.  "On the sofa, there."  The indicated boy is sketching out an image of the inside of the chapel in charcoal on a slate of light grey stone. For his age, it's not bad.
Prehysterical
Nodding his understanding, Kellon then asks Feddick,  "Is there someplace else we can talk to him? I don't want him to feel uncomfortable, but I wouldn't want my business discussed in front of the other children, if I was him." 
RandomWombat
 "How about the back yard?"  he suggests, motioning to the right, through the room and towards a door at the end of a short half-hallway that extends off of it.  "The office is probably too formal and stuffy." 

Spider crawls inside of the room, and the familiar children rescued from the hags turn to look. There's some apprehension at first, then recognition. The two from the cages wave at Spider, while Lucian slides out of his chair to go and pet the large arachnid.  "Hello Spider. Did you come to visit?" 
 "Hello! Yes, we are visiting your new nest! Is it nice here?"  Spider chirps amiably back.

 "I kind of miss home but,"  the boy fades off at the and and looks aside at the chair beside him.

All the commotion has gotten Yeska's attention, and he sets his charcoal drawing around to turn and look over the back of the couch, marveling at the strange sight. The caretaker behind him, meanwhile, is fanning herself and trying not to panic at the sight of Spider.
Prehysterical
 "A fine suggestion,"  Kellon agrees.

It seems like the rescued children are adjusting well. Lucian has even come out of his shell somewhat. The boy still seems to be having a hard time, however. Kellon's heart goes out to him. The urgency of their quest is keen in his mind, but a few minutes can be spared for this.

He gives Gweyir a look to show his concern before he steps forward to comfort the boy.  "I know what it's like to miss home, boyo."  Kellon gently guides Lucian over to the side of the room, wanting to give the boy some space for what he had to say. With a grunt, Kellon takes the time to sit down on his shell and motions for Lucian to sit down in front of him.  "'Home' is what we had. It's the people we love, the places that made us, the times that we treasure. It's something we keep deep,  deep  down to comfort us when we're away or things are scary."  Kellon thumps the shell plating over his heart in emphasis.

 "But the sad truth is... home is not forever. I had a wonderful home, Lucian. My mother and father that loved me more than anything in the world."  Kellon's eyes light up as he relives the first few months of his life.  "Just the three of us, living on a small island in the middle of the ocean. No neighbors, no walls, no towns, just us, the sand, the trees, and water beyond sight in every direction."  He sweeps his arm in a grand gesture, knowing that it would not do proper justice to someone who has never seen a body of water larger than a lake.  "It was paradise for us." 

Even as an adult, the next part is still hard for Kellon to recount.  "But it couldn't last. One day, I woke up to find that both of them had passed on the next life."  He paused for a moment to let that sink in.  "For years, I was alone. That island, which I had thought of as my home, became a prison. You see, lad, a place cannot be home without love. All that our favorite places did was remind me of what I had lost, what I could no longer have. For years, I did everything I could to stop people from coming to the island. I thought that, by preserving it as it was, I could somehow hold onto the happiness that I had felt with my parents. It took me a long time to finally realize that... I had to move on. I couldn't be happy in that place, even if it was beautiful and easy living. The road became my home. I wanted to find myself, see the world, and discover my own happiness. Happiness that I couldn't have found if I had stayed where I was." 

A claw pointed to Lucian.  " You  are on that road, Lucian. No matter how much it may hurt to say or think about it, you cannot go back to what once was... because that home that you so dearly love no longer exists. Home cannot be in a place without love. You're a smart lad; you know this! It will be hard for you, I know. Believe me, I have felt the same. Lost, angry, hurt... but take heart, because it won't last forever. Some day, I will find a place that I like and stay there. I am confident that, as you spend time here and grow older, you will figure out where  your  home really is. Just promise that you'll give this place a fair shake, all right?"  Leaning forward, Kellon adds in a conspiratorial whisper,  "And help keep an eye on Freek and Myrtle, eh? I can't be around all the time and it would make me feel better knowing that someone is looking out for them."  He gives Lucian a knowing wink.
RandomWombat
Leaving their group to its business, Feddick nods at the woman caretaker and holds up a hand to let her know it's alright. Gweyir steps into the room alongside Kellon, while the patron moves away to give them their space to work.

Reluctantly, Lucian steps away from Spider to follow after Kellon. Lowering down to the ground, he crosses his legs in front of him and looks up at Kellon with youthful wide eyes. Through the story his eyes water up and drift down towards the floor, and the boy stops to wipe his eyes.   "Why did they stop loving me?"   the boy asks, quietly, towards the floor.   "Did I do something wrong?"  

Looking to the side, he watches Freek and Myrtle. Spider has moved up between them and nuzzled its head up seeking pets. The two kids laugh and even shy Myrtle lightly scratches Spider on the head with her fingers. Getting up from the couch, Yeska is cautiously approaching them and watching with his hands pulled back to his chest. He stands next to Spider apprehensively, apparently considering whether to join the others. Gweyir is watching from by the door with a smile, and even the caretaker seems to be disarmed by Spider's friendly demeanor.

 "I can look out for them,"  Lucian says in a quiet, wavering voice.
Prehysterical
A sigh passes through Kellon's shell. When you are young, and have not experienced such things before, it all seems incomprehensible. Kellon gently reaches over and lifts the boy up for a hug, careful not to press Lucian into the edge of his shell.  "I know that tortle hugs are not the best,"  Kellon apologizes,  "but you seemed like you needed one." 

Setting Lucian back down, Kellon gives him an unhappy, unsure answer.  "I wish I could tell you. I don't know your parents, Lucian. I don't know why they did what they did. Maybe their addiction to Dream Pastries grew stronger than their love for you. But whatever the case may be, don't think for a second that you did  anything  to deserve being given away! There is nothing wrong with you."  Kellon tousles the boy's hair gently with his claws.  "But, like many other things in life, we can't control what other people do. We have to live with their decisions, just like they have to live with ours. Right now, the best decision for you, probably, is to stay here. You will be fed, have a place to sleep, and be cared for. It's strange, I know, but it beats living in the woods by yourself... among the wolves and other nasties. Trust me. I normally prefer to camp in the wilds, but not in this country,"  Kellon asserts.  "Just... don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it, all right? Don't think that you're alone now. The very fact that you are alive, and here, shows that people care about you."  Kellon does his best impression of an encouraging smile.

Looking over and seeing Yeska's hesitation, Kellon raises his voice and tells him,  "Don't be shy, Yeska, it's just ol' Spider! He wouldn't hurt a fly!

...Er, scratch that. He  would  hurt a fly, but not  you ! He eats flies, not people." 
RandomWombat
Despite the hard surface of his shell, Lucian reaches up and wraps his arms around Kellon... sort of. He can scarcely reach around the front of the tortle. The boy sniffs and wipes his face on his sleeve after being set down.  "Okay. If... you ever get a chance, could you ask them for me?"  he requests, looking up at Kellon hopefully.

Yeska carefully reaches out and places a hand against Spider's back, running it back and forth through the arachnid's brown fuzz.  "That's right! Flies are too tiny for me now. So small, just little bites! I catch lots of bats in the woods!"  Spider cheerfully rambles.

 "Hey,"  Yeska says, looking up at Kellon.  "How'd you know my name, mister turtle?" 
Prehysterical
 "I will,"  Kellon promises the boy, trying to stifle imaginings of crackling lightning bolts and strangulation. He gives Lucian a few reassuring pats on the shoulder before lifting himself up and responding to Yeska.

 "Name's Kellon, lad, and believe it or not, I am here to speak with you. Would you mind if we went into the backyard and talked for a little bit?" 
RandomWombat
Reaching up to the back of his head, Yesko scratches at his hair and juts out his lower lip thoughtfully.  "Why talk to me?"  he asks, warily.

 "It's okay. The turtle man helped us,"  Freek says encouragingly, getting onto his knees and peering at Yeska over the back of his chair. Calmed by the other boy's assertion, Yeska moves around spider to go over to where Kellon is with Lucian.

Lucian gets up from his seated position on the floor and lets the older boy by. He looks to be at least ten, but not a teenager yet. His head is capped off with wild, dark, curly hair that rests like a mushroom cap around his ears.
Prehysterical
Kellon makes his way to the back door and opens it before beckoning Yeska onward.  "I have a problem, young lad, and I'm told that maybe you can help me. I just have a few questions, that's all." 
RandomWombat
Following him out through the door, the boy looks up at Kellon.  "How can  I  help? I'm just a kid." 

The yard is surrounded by a wooden fence, with a gate locked by a simple hook latch on the inside. The fenced in patch of dirt and grass contains an old well with a wooden bucket hanging upon the mechanism, and three wooden outhouses. Three large barrels stand alongside the back wall of the orphanage, filled with rainwater. Next to one of the barrels is a wooden bench and an empty laundry basket.

Some fishing line is hung up between two sections of fence, from which hangs freshly washed laundry drying in the breeze.
Prehysterical
At first, Kellon moves to close the door, but realizes that would look supremely suspicious. Instead, he leaves it open, trusting Gweyir to keep an eye out.

Turning to Yeska, Kellon explains,  "Well, it turns out that you know something that nobody else does... the location of the bones of the saint that protect this town."  He spreads his arms to indicate their surroundings.

 "Now, Yeska, I'm not the only one who needs your help. This entire town is counting on you. Those bones, the reliquary, have gone missing. Without their blessing, the wards that protect this town will fail and all sorts of dangerous things will find a way in." 

Kellon gives Yeska a firm look without being outright accusatory.  "Now think real hard, lad... Is there anyone who knows the location of the bones, besides you and the local priest?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Insight:  (1d20+5)[ 23 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The mention of the bones evokes an immediate response, in the paling of the boy's face and the shrinking of his presence. His hands fold in front of him and he looks down from Kellon's eyes, unable to meet them. Anyone could tell with ease the appearance of a guilty child who knows he did something bad.  "I um, you. You think the bones are really magic?"  he asks, while fidgeting.  "I mean it's probably just a silly superstition right?" 
 
 Spoiler: Insight 
Kellon gets the sense that Yeska is parroting someone else's words.

He can roll Persuasion to try and get the boy to speak.
 
Prehysterical
The exact phrasing of the boy's words catches Kellon's attention. So, someone else tricked the boy, eh?

Kellon's manner is grave as he nods in response to the first question.  "Yeska, I'm a priest, too. Not of the Morninglord, no, but I can feel the holy radiance that hangs over the walls of this town. The bones are holy, not just something dug up from a grave.

I may not have ears, boy, but I can tell when I'm hearing someone else's words. Who told you that the bones were just a superstition?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+3)[ 12 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Caught in his fib, Yeska clutches his elbows in his hands and his eyes start to water.  "I don't want to get anybody in trouble. He's not bad, honest! Please don't hurt him!" 

Leaning out in the doorway, Gweyir looks out at Kellon, to see if he needs assistance.

 
 Spoiler: Insight 
The boy is close to cracking, and just needs another push.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon waves Gweyir off. He'd rather be gentle about this, if possible.

His tone grows more sympathetic as Kellon explains,  "I understand that you want to protect this friend of yours, but if the bones are not returned to their proper place, we will  all  be in trouble. Not just you and me, but every person in this town, which includes everyone here at the orphanage and the church. People are going to  die  if I can't find out where the bones are.

In order to do that, I have to know about this other person and where they might have taken the bones. It's the only way we can find them in time. Everyone is counting on you, Yeska. Now, I will ask one more time: who did you talk to?" 
RandomWombat
Nervously reaching up and wiping away the tears forming at the sides of his eyes, Yeska quietly answers, so quiet he might be hoping Kellon won't hear.  "Milivoj said... he said he could fix the orph'nage's money troubles by selling the bones." 
Prehysterical
 Now  they were getting somewhere. Kellon nods, beginning to understand.  "You thought the bones weren't important, so you sold them to help the orphanage.

Who is Milivoj? Did he say where he was going to sell the bones? Where does he live?" 
RandomWombat
 "He's the shovel man at the church,"  Yeska answers.  "He lives here with us." 
  "I remember him. The groundskeeper who was weeding the graveyard,"   Gweyir comments from the doorway.
Prehysterical
Someone who should know better...  "That is all I need to know. Thank you for your help, Yeska. You are free to go."  Kellon deliberately steps back to allow Yeska easier access to the door.  "I will go have a talk with Milivoj. He doesn't need to know that you helped me." 
RandomWombat
Hands still wrapped around himself, Yeska guiltily treads back over to the door and looks back from the frame, where Gweyir is poking her head out.  "Please don't let the Baron hurt him! He wasn't trying to be bad." 
Prehysterical
 "To be frank, my boy, I have far more important matters on my mind than punishment,"  Kellon half-reassures the boy as he goes back inside.

He approaches the threshold and tells Gweyir in a low voice,  "Sounds like we better hurry on over to the church and see just what our shovelboy has dug up. It would be optimistic to say that the bones are still in town, but I feel like praying a little right now." 
RandomWombat
  "We don't have far to walk at least,"   the elf answers, walking back towards the front door. She lightly taps Spider on the back as she passes,   "Time to go, buddy."  
 "Aww."   "Bye Spider." 
 "Bye bye, be good!"  exchanging farewells with the children, Spider crawls along behind Kellon and Gweyir. At the front door, Feddick and Father Donavich are making idle conversation of the weather and daily hassles, such as the aches and pains of getting older.

As they emerge, the patron turns to them and asks,  "Did you learn what you needed?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives a terse nod to Feddick's question.  "Aye. Is the boy Milivoj over at the church right now?" 
RandomWombat
 "He is, yes. Right over there,"  Feddick points across the road to the graveyard, then pauses and looks around. The graveyard and church yard are empty, apart from a pair of pigeons perched on a bench.  "He  was  there not long ago." 
Prehysterical
The look that Kellon gives to Gweyir says what both of them are thinking. Aloud, Kellon states,  "It seems that the game is afoot... Well, we best get hunting."  He turns to Father Donavich and asks,  "Do me a favor and make sure that the boy's not in the church, would you, Father?" 

Kellon makes for the graveyard, looking for signs of the boy's departure.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Survival:  (1d20+5)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "I will,"  the priest answers with an affirmative nod, walking across the street with Kellon and breaking off to enter the church. Gweyir is hot on Kellon's heels, with Sokol and Spider falling in behind.

The graveyard is resting peacefully, and Milivoj's shovel was taken with him. At first Kellon can't spot any clues, but Gweyir calls and waves him over.   "Some fresh footprints here going out,"   she points, following them along out of the graveyard's gate. They proceed east, deeper into town.   "They don't look hurried or panicked, so I don't think he knows we're onto him."  

Not long after, Father Donavich emerges from inside.  "Not inside,"  he says with a shake of his head.
Prehysterical
 "Well done, shipmate,"  Kellon compliments.  "But how are we going to track him...?" 

After a moment's thought, Kellon asks,  "Spider, do you think you could get on the roofs and do some scouting for us? We are looking for that boy we saw here in the yard this morning. He should be carrying a shovel- er, a stick with a big wide metal head on it." 
RandomWombat
 "Sure! I can climb all over,"  Spider happily chirps. Crawling on all eight legs up onto the rooftop of a nearby building, the arachnid will no doubt cause a stir to those who see it. But bigger things are at stake now. Lifting up a single leg in a wave, Spider begins moving further into town in the direction Gweyir indicated.

  "We should help too. Should we split up to cover more ground?"   Gweyir asks.   "Using the buddy system of course. Even here in town, I don't trust this land for a minute."  
Prehysterical
Kellon waves back before turning his attention back to Gweyir.

 "While I am hesitant to split us up... it may be our best option. You and Father Donavich swing north. Sokol and I will go south. If any of the local guard harass you, mentioning that we are part of Ismarck's  otryad , or whatever it's called, might at least stop them from clapping you in irons. If you come up empty, we can meet up at the eastern gate." 
RandomWombat
With a small salute, Gweyir answers with a chuckle,   "Aye aye, captain. Heh. Thought the joke was in poor taste back when we thought the cap' might not have made it,"   she starts moving along the main street with Father Donavich, while Sokol strolls over to Kellon to join him. Their paths don't diverge for a good minute, but soon a branching side road breaks south and they go their separate ways.

 "At least I have a partner whose walking speed I can match, ay?"  Sokol playfully jests, although even the tortle's heavy steps outpace him if he doesn't slow down to match. The old zombie's knees audibly creak when they move, like those of a rickety old man; he is, fortunately, spared the discomfort that the mortal elderly must endure.

Their walk is uneventful, until they pass by a large and imposing building that stands out from the rest. The mansion has walls of plastered stone that display many scars where the plaster has fallen away from age and neglect. Drapes cover every window, including a large, arched opening above the mansion's double entrance doors. People come and go through the doors steadily, going in empty handed and emerging with lanterns and baubles to join the other festival decorations hanging on strings. None of the people look particularly festive, and most are too tired to even bother giving Kellon a death glare.

A bronze plaque upon the wall next to the door, much like that of the Durst residence, announces it as the home of Baron Vargas Vallakovich.

There is, however, no sign of the shovel-toting boy outside or around the mansion among the other festival workers. Ahead along their path, should they choose to carry on, is a T intersection. The road splits to the north and to the south. Straight across the intersection stands another notable building. A tiny, cramped thing set in the middle of a yard too large for it, as if there had once been something larger or more grand planned which withered down into this failed sprout of a shop.

This cramped shop has a dark entrance portico, above which hangs a wooden sign shaped like a rocking horse, with a "B" engraved on both sides. Flanking the entrance are two arched, lead-framed windows. Through the dirty glass, one can see jumbled displays of toys and hanging placards bearing the slogan " Is No Fun, Is No Blinsky! " - a phrase Kellon recognizes from the doll belonging to Sokol's missing daughter, as well as a few toys from the Durst house.
Prehysterical
Mindful of his companion, Kellon slows his pace to allow Sokol to keep up.

As they pass the mansion, Kellon shakes his head... both at the towering edifice of crumbling vanity and the exhaustion of the townsfolk. Some "celebration" this was turning out to be...

The crowds prove too much for an efficient search. They move on down the road and come to the intersection, where Kellon looks with curiosity at the toy store. Momentarily distracted, Kellon asks Sokol,  "How do the children in your village get these toys? Do wagons sometimes go out to the village?" 
RandomWombat
 "Ah, you know. Used to guard the farms out there,"  Sokol waves generally in the direction of the Durst windmill.  "Guards and farm workers traveled together, from village to here and back. Safer than alone. "  He looks at the toys in the shop windows nostalgically, despite the often macabre imagery they bear behind the dusty glass.  "Sometimes would stop in town, buy things only found here. Is where I got my daughter her doll." 
Prehysterical
 "So I noticed,"  Kellon acknowledges.  "Well, in any case, let's swing onto the road going south of here. We can always double back, if necessary. I don't have the foggiest notion where our gravedigger might have gone..." 
RandomWombat
Around the block they go, following the curved road as it passes by Barovian homes lined up on either side. The houses range from humble barely-two-room shacks like Sokol's to the finer homes of minor nobles; which still pale in comparison to what the Baron's mansion or even the Durst house must have looked like in their day.

As the road curves back north, the side road widens and once more their feet are graced with cobblestone that clacks beneath Kellon's claws. The shops and homes that enclose the town square are decorated with limp, tattered garlands and painted wooden boxes filled with tiny, dead flowers. The same townsfolk Kellon saw at the Baron's mansion are taking down the old decorations, and replacing them with the new, freshly made lanterns and effigies of suns.

At the north end of the square stands a row of stocks, locked in which are several men, women, and children wearing crude, plaster donkey heads. Hanging from their necks are wooden signs reading   Mood Killer  . A pair of town guards watches over the stocks.

In the center of the square, peasants in patchwork clothes eye the new arrivals to the square suspiciously as they use cups and vases to draw water from a crumbling stone fountain. Standing tall at the center of the fountain is a gray statue of an impressive man facing west.

Two men walk past Kellon and Sokol carrying away a sign with a proclamation from the old festival in large, bold font:

  Come one, come all,
to the greatest celebration of the year:
THE WOLF'S HEAD JAMBOREE!
Attendance and children required.
Pikes will be provided.
ALL WILL BE WELL!
- The Baron -  
 "That explains all the piked heads outside, ay?"  Sokol comments. From the town square, two more roads branch off: one northwest towards the Blue Water Inn that Kellon can just make out in the distance, and one going east.
Prehysterical
With every passing hour, Kellon's estimation of the Baron grows lower and lower. Urban decadence rules here and there is no doubt in Kellon's mind that the "Mood Killers" are merely townsfolk who voiced their concerns. It is a pitiable sight and Kellon is tempted to intervene, but sadly there are more important matters to attend.

Kellon responds to Sokol's humor,  "'Tis one thing to defend yerselves and use the fur and such... but this is celebration of cruelty."  The disgust is clear in Kellon's voice.  "Even if the vampire is not within these walls, his sense of humor has poisoned their minds." 

Looking back and forth between the roads, Kellon wants to try something first. He approaches the guards watching over the stocks and asks in a polite manner,  "Pardon me for disturbing you, but have you seen a young man come through here with a shovel? One of the orphans?" 
RandomWombat
Sokol's eyes, too, linger on the people bound in the stockades. He begins to say something else, but breaks off partway through, looking around the square while Kellon approaches the guard. The man up on the wooden platform looks down at him hesitantly.  "Sure. Went off that way,"  he nods towards the east road. Whether the man's cooperation is born of Kellon's politeness or a desire for him to go away is unclear.

Once they are further away, Sokol speaks quietly to Kellon,  "How long you think they have been there?" 
Prehysterical
Not the friendliest of fellows, this guard, but he seems to be telling the truth. At least they know they're on the right track.

As they move away, Kellon's answer is troubled.  "I haven't the foggiest notion. What I  do  know is that any noble who puts a child in the stocks deserves to have an anchor tied around his neck!"  There is a bit of a hiss at the end as Kellon voices his displeasure.

 "But the wards cannot wait, or it won't matter. We'll find some way to help later."  He tries to clear his mind and keep his eyes open for Milivoj.
RandomWombat
 "Think they are still guarded at night?"  Sokol ponders aloud, albeit quietly, to Kellon. There's a hint of conspiracy in the man's voice, and he looks back over his shoulder at the fading town square as they move on.

As they move back onto the main road east, towards the town gate they came in through, they see someone ahead of them walking. They're carrying a shovel over one shoulder, and a burlap bag hangs from their other hand at their side. As the person turns, Kellon sees the familiar look of the young man from the graveyard. He's turning from the main road into a wider, open area surrounding a town park.
Prehysterical
Kellon catches onto the man's meaning and replies just as quietly.  "Maybe. We'll just have to see.  Later , Sokol,"  he reminds the dead man as they pursue their objective.

Once Kellon's eyes fall on Milivoj, he elbows Sokol to alert him.  "That's him. Let's keep it slow, but if the boy runs, I'll have to go ahead." 
RandomWombat
Pained expression clear in his eyes even past the scarf wrapped around his face, Sokol meets Kellon's gaze and nods. He too spots the suspicious individual ahead of them, and tries to look natural... as natural as the two of them can look, at least.

Fortunately, Milivoj doesn't seem to suspect he's being followed. Turning the corner, he walks around the stone path that encompasses the edge of the park, bringing them around to a shop. This uninviting shop is two stories tall and has a sign shaped like a coffin above the front door. All of the window shutters are closed up tight, and a deathly silence surrounds the establishment. Milivoj stops in front of the door to lean his shovel up against the wall, freeing up a hand to reach for the handle.
Prehysterical
What sort of place is this? An undertaker's home? Before Milivoj can open the door, Kellon continues approaching as he calls out to the young man.

 "Ahoy there, lad! We saw you earlier behind the church, but didn't have the chance to make your acquaintance. Name's Kellon, and this here is me mate Sokol."  Kellon keeps talking to distract Milivoj as he approaches. He's not trying to jump the boy, just keeping his attention and preventing him from entering the shop.  "You're Milivoj, right? Patron Feddick told me you were the oldest boy at the orphanage. Said that you were getting ready to become your own man and leave to make your way in the world." 
RandomWombat
Hand paused in the air over the handle, Milivoj looks over and sees the large tortle approaching. Unlike most Barovians, his response is not fear, but excitement. Pulling back his hand, the boy nods and introduces himself,  "That's right, sir. I'm Milivoj, but you can just call me Mil." 
 "Pleased to make your acquaintance,"  Sokol says, with a sweep of his arms.

 "Are you really from outside Barovia?"  the boy asks Kellon with eager, bright eyes.  "What is it like out there? Does the sun really shine clear in the sky?" 
Prehysterical
Not at all the sly, furtive opportunist that Kellon had envisioned in his head. Instead, curious and polite. A refreshing change. Kellon nods wistfully.  "Oh, aye, lad. I come from the islands. Why, what you call a 'sunny' day here is something that we would call 'dreary' back home!"  He spreads his arms wide in emphasis.

As Kellon regales the boy, an idea is planted in his mind. He goes to stand beside Milivoj and puts an arm over the boy's shoulder in an affectionate manner.  "I'll tell you what, lad. I'm a stranger here to Barovia, especially Vallaki and the lands west of here. What say we go down to the nearest watering hole in this place and swap stories? You tell me more about this place and I'll tell you  anything  you want to know about where I come from. I'll even buy the drinks!"  Kellon gives Mil a playful squeeze, mindful not to drive him into his shell's edge.  "What do you say, lad? More than a fair bargain, if I do say so meself! What do you think, Sokol?"  He looks to the dead man and gives Sokol a leading look.
RandomWombat
Letting the bag fall down from his shoulder and hang by his side as Kellon circles around and wraps him in one arm, Milivoj looks over at Sokol when the tortle does.

The old zombie shrugs his arms and laughs,  "I know everyone says, 'oh be wary of outsiders'. But Kellon, he is a real nice guy. Can trust him. Just last night, we two helped rescue some children from danger. Back at the orphanage they are." 
 "Really? Uh, Patron Feddick says I shouldn't let myself get hooked on drinking. But if it's just a little bit, or maybe one, it's probably okay,"  the boy agrees cheerily. Kellon can feel any tension or hesitation flow out of his shoulders.  "I just have to finish what I was doing. Gravedigger stuff, you know,"  he shrugs lightly, barely moving Kellon's heavy shelled arm with the motion.  "Delivering stuff to the coffinmaker." 
 
 Spoiler: Kellon Insight 
Milivoj's voice doesn't hint at any fear of the coffinmaker. There is a hint of hesitation, but not the kind of guilt that would come with knowingly selling off the town's wards. The boy likely doesn't believe that the bones contain any power besides their worth.
 
Prehysterical
 "Don't worry, boyo, I'm not trying to turn you into a boozehound,"  Kellon chuckles.  "But what sort of delivery would a gravedigger be making to a coffinmaker? From what I understand, it should be the other way around."  He hopes that the humor in his voice will prompt the boy to open the bag to reveal its contents.
RandomWombat
 "Oh, you know. Sizing the coffin,"  Milivoj lies, badly. He rubs his arm with his free hand and tries to slip out of Kellon's grip.  "It won't take long. Do you mind waiting here?" 
Prehysterical
For a moment, Kellon is tempted to lecture the boy. Before he releases his grasp, Kellon jests,  "Well, I wouldn't know how to size a coffin just from what's in a bag. Guess I'd be a bad gravedigger. I think we'll accompany you inside. Still trying to learn all about this town, so might as well might the undertaker. Won't take long at all, eh, Sokol? You've always wanted to be sized for a coffin, right?"  He hopes that the undead Barovian will forgive his ribbing as he makes no move to restrain Mil.
RandomWombat
 "It would save my wife the trip in the future, yes! Very convenient, living coffin fittings,"  Sokol jokes, chuckling at he macabre imagery. Awkwardly forcing a chuckle of his own, Mil opens up the door and steps inside. A small bell rings. Arranged haphazardly about the floor of this musty, L-shaped room are thirteen wooden coffins.

 "Mister van der Hoort?"  he announces, knocking on the wood of one of the coffins lying around. A deeper door unlocks and a man steps out. He has a messy head of hair and a greasy mop of grey beard. The man coughs into his elbow and clears his throat, eyes flickering from Mil to the two behind him.

 "Who're they?"  he grunts, in a hollow and gravelly voice.

 "Oh, they're new in town. We're going for drinks after,"  Milivoj answers in a simultaneously chipper and nervous voice.  "I have the remains you wanted right here,"  he says, setting the bag on one of the coffins.

 "Right,"  van der Hoort says, skeptically. He walks over to open up the bag and take a look inside.
Prehysterical
The chuckle Kellon gives is genuine. Good old Sokol... Once inside, he gets to see the unfriendly behavior of the local undertaker. As van der Hoort examines the haul, Kellon asks casually,  "You know, the boy was telling us that he had to bring you something in order for a coffin to be sized. I find that very curious... Isn't the whole point to have the  entire  body to size the coffin?" 
 
 Spoiler: Insight 
 (1d20+5)[ 21 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Van der Hoort cinches the bag shut once more, glancing up at Kellon in his periphery.  "Not always a whole body,"  he answers, gruffly. Then he turns and starts to walk back towards the door further in.  "Boy talks too much." 
 "Hey, what about my payment?"  Mil protests as the man starts to leave the room.

 "Calm down, I'm getting it... hmph, think I carry jingling coin everywhere in my own home,"  the crotchety old man mumbles.
Prehysterical
As the man leaves the room, Kellon puts a clawed hand on Mil's shoulder. He asks in a low voice,  "I have to know... Are those the bones of the saint?"  His tone makes it clear that there is no joshing here.
RandomWombat
Mil freezes at Kellon's voice, going stock still.  "How do you- how do you know about that?"  he asks, voice most certainly not low in his shock. But his answer all but confirms it.

And van der Hoort begins to bolt for the door. But Kellon is ready.

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - 17
Sokol - 16
Van der Hoort - 8
Milivoj - 4
 
Prehysterical
That's all Kellon needs to know. The second that the undertaker seems to bolt, Kellon surges forward with surprising speed and tries to use his strength to grab onto van der Hoort to stop him from getting away.  "Sokol, get the relic!" 
 
 Spoiler: Strength (Athletics) 
 (1d20+4)[ 7 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Kellon grabs the man before he can make it two steps towards the door, as he stands there like a deer caught in the headlights. His hands lose their grip on the bag of bones and it falls to the floor with a clatter, as Sokol makes a loping jog over and scoops them up.  "S-stop! Don't hurt me!"  the man shouts pitifully, failing to fight back and practically going limp in Kellon's arms.

 "Not exactly the hardened agent of darkness I was expecting, ay,"  Sokol comments as he moves the bones away from the man, and from Milivoj. But the boy is more interested in making good his escape, and flees out the door.
Prehysterical
Kellon is of the same mindset as Sokol, but gives the undertaker a hard look. He chooses to disregard Milivoj's escape.  "Milivoj may not know the worth of the relic, but  you  clearly do. What scheme did you have for them, blasphemer?" 
RandomWombat
 "It wasn't me! It- I'm just a smuggler!"  the old man whinges pathetically, screwing his eyes shut tight.  "It was von Holtz, a noble! He wanted the bones, I swear!" 
Prehysterical
The man seems so genuinely terrified for his life that he  has  to be telling the truth.  "Where is this von Holtz, then, and why is he content to give up the town's best means of protection?" 
RandomWombat
 "Protection?"  the old man asks, sounding confused.  "So that's..."  he starts to mutter something to himself as his face goes pale, then he stops.  "I don't know where Holtz is. He's from out of town! Krezk or Barovia village, maybe?" 
 "You were about to say something else. Why do you not share, ay? Is no need for secrets between us,"  pacing around the man, Sokol stops in front and looks him in the eye. Van der Hoort meets his gaze for only a moment before looking down at the floor.

 "We should go outside." 
Prehysterical
The smuggler doesn't know either? Just how ignorant are these townspeople to the divine? Kellon wants to interrogate further, but the look in the smuggler's eyes and the catch in his voice trip alarm bells. With a snort, Kellon relents.  "Fine. Let's go for a walk. Then you can tell us what this is all about."  He moves rapidly to the door, still keeping a firm grip on the old man.
RandomWombat
The two of them drag the man out, and Sokol keeps his foot in the door to keep it from closing behind them, leaning in to make sure nothing is out of place. Once they're outside, the smuggler stammers,  "I was also paid to smuggle some things in... corpses, in boxes full of grave dirt,"  he admits.  "They are upstairs. Is the protection really real? Always thought... you know, the mayor was full of ****."  The man asks.
Prehysterical
Kellon's beaked jaw drops in disbelief. He has a moment of mounting thunderous rage before taking a deep breath.  "Yes, the bones are actually a relic. Without them, the town's wards fail,"  he seethes.  "The high priest himself said so."  Kellon yanks the man so that they are eye to eye.  "Now, tell me fast: are there any other people in the building? Any valuable items? Because we need to burn it  right now ." 
RandomWombat
 "Burn it... burn it down?!"  the old man's groveling cowardice falls away to a bit of fire in him, smouldering and shaky as it may be.  "This is everything I own! My home! My work! You can't just  burn it down !"  His fist balls up and he punches at Kellon's stomach, but all he manages to do is kill his own bravado by injuring his knuckles. The old man clutches his hand and gasps.
Prehysterical
Fire is met with ice as Kellon continues to glare him down.  "Do you  realize  what you may have done? The same noble that wanted you to remove the bones asked you to bring in a bunch of bodies.  Think , man! Who wants the wards down more badly than bloody Strahd himself? And now we have an entire potential brood of vampire spawn in yon deathhouse! Those bodies  must  be destroyed or you will be putting all of Vallaki in jeopardy. If you truly were just a pawn, help us make it right." 
 
 Spoiler: Persuasion 
 (1d20+3)[ 4 ] 
I guess that was exactly the wrong thing to say.
 
RandomWombat
The man looks around, but it's clear he's not diverting his eyes out of submission this time. He's looking for something. Then the man shouts at the top of his lungs, voice cracking hoarsely from the strain.  "Guards! Guards! I'm being robbed!" 

There are a pair of armed and armored men in the park, patrolling it. Not heavily armed and armored, mind. Little more than a gambeson, spear and kettle helmet each. The two of them hear the coffinmaker shouting and begin to trudge over.  "What's going on here?"  one of them calls out.
Prehysterical
 "Treachery and mutiny,"  Kellon shouts as much in anger at the man as to inform the guards.  "This undertaker of yours was just about to steal the bones of the very saint that protects this town. Father Lucian tasked us with retrieving the stolen relic and now this little bilgerat thinks he can go unpunished for his crimes!"  All the while, Kellon maintains his iron grip on the man.
RandomWombat
 "He's lying! These... these n-necromancers are trying to steal remains from my shop! For horrible things!"  van der Hoort shouts, trying and failing to yank his arm away from Kellon's vice grip.

 "An undertaker stealing bones?"  one of the guards asks incredulously. He scoffs and spits into the dirt.  "A likely story. Unhand the old man, outsider." 

His partner grips his spear in both hands, standing nearer to Kellon and Sokol's position.  "And don't even think about reaching for a weapon."  Sokol holds up his hands, palm up, away from his sheathed weapons.

 "No need for weapons, my friends. Let us talk this out, ay, perfectly friendly." 
 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
Kellon can roll Persuasion against van der Hoort's  (1d20)[ 1 ]  if he continues trying to convince the guards. Sokol will Help to give him Advantage.

Edit: Roll to beat a 1 😛
 
Prehysterical
 "If I let go of him, this weasel will be out the eastern gate before your teeth click back together in your mouths! And it's not  him  who wants the bones. It's that nobleman von Holtz, wherever the Hells he is. This one is just a corpsemonger for both bones and bodies!" 

One hand releases its hold on the undertaker and holds aloft Kellon's holy symbol.  "I am no necromancer. I am a priest of the Tempest and the clergy of the Morninglord have tasked me with returning the bones of Saint Andral to their rightful resting place. If my word alone is not evidence enough for you, I prayed for a blessing this morning that can force the truth out of our mouths."  Kellon looks significantly at van der Hoort.  "So, what shall it be, undertaker? Will you change your story now, or shall these men watch how your face twists as it tries to wring out another lie?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Don't insult me. 😛
 
RandomWombat
 "Tasked by the clergy, are you?"  taking a few careful paces closer, the first guard nods slowly.  "Alright. We can send someone to confirm that." 

Van der Hoort grits his teeth together in frustration and heaves out a broken sigh.  "There's no need... it's true. I was hired to get this noble the bones,"  he admits, and the guards contort their faces at him in disgust.  "But this lunatic wants to burn down by shop!" 
 "To kill possible vampire spawn inside,"  Sokol quickly clarifies for the guards.

The second guard looks up at the building, and then at the park just across the road.  "Okay, let's all calm down. We can't just go setting fire to whatever building, outsider. These old houses, or the park if the wind goes wrong, could all go up in smoke with it." 
 "You seriously think there's vampires in this place?"  the first guard asks, much more nervous now at the prospect. He approaches and takes a pair of manacles off his belt.  "Here. I'll bind the bone thief's legs so he can't run."  And he does just that, leaving van der Hoort effectively hobbled by the chains connecting his ankles.
Prehysterical
As van der Hoort is restrained, Kellon gives a displeased hiss and a clack of his beak before releasing the man.  "All right, so torching the place is not an option. There are undead in that place, however, or I am the son of a newt! These bodies were smuggled in with grave dirt, so I have no doubt there is some foul necromancy involved. They cannot be allowed to escape and terrorize the townsfolk. Mayhaps we could put yon stakes to better use than wolf heads...?

There was a man who ran through here earlier. A young man, Milivoj, one of the orphans. Had a shovel? Any idea where he ran off to?" 
RandomWombat
 "Stake is supposed to kill a vampire right?"  one guard asks the other, who shrugs his shoulders but answers in the affirmative.

 "Pretty sure. Say sunlight will kill one too. Maybe open up the windows when you go in." 
 "I am not going in the vampire room. I am taking the prisoner to jail,"  the first guard insists, making the other frown.  "Anyways, you say kid with shovel? He run out into town. He with the grave digger?" 
Prehysterical
 "Not quite. He is a pawn in all of this. I want him found, but not hurt. I made a promise to the boy and I intend to keep it."  Pointing to the guard who is not escorting the prisoner, Kellon instructs,  "What would help more than anything right now is for you to find our companions. They are on the north end of town searching the streets. One is a priest of the Morninglord and the other is... a 'duskie', as you call them. Wild and divine magic will prove useful here. There is also a giant spider crawling around on the roofs in town. He is ours. Send him this way.

In the meantime, we will ensure that no gravespawn escape the building unnoticed." 
RandomWombat
 "Just how I expected to spend my day this morning. Errand boy to a giant turtle, chasing 'giant spiders' around town,"  the instructed guard grumbles, but begins trudging away from the scene. The other one takes hold of the coffin maker's arm and marches him - slowly, on account of his bound legs - out of the large cul de sac around the park.

Leaving Sokol and Kellon alone, for now, guarding the potential vampire nest.  "We take solace they cannot go climbing out of windows, yes, not without going up like candles,"  the zombie chuckles, waving his hands up into the air in imitation of a plume of fire.

It takes some time before their group comes together again. Spider is the first to arrive, crawling down from a neighboring roof and hopping into the grass next to Kellon.  "I'm back! Did you find the thing?" 


Another span of time passes before the guard finally returns accompanied by Gweyir and Father Donavich.   "Hey,"   the elven woman greets them, and the old priest nods alongside her.

 "Not sure what I  thought  you meant when you said 'giant spider',"  the guard quips.
Prehysterical
 "Honestly, at this point, it wouldn't surprise me if the corpses were buried in cloaks to allow them to move in the daylight,"  Kellon worries. He wants to think like Sokol and take some comfort in that, but Strahd was proving to be devious beyond his ken.

Kellon gives a little wave of his claw at Spider.  "Yes, we did, I am happy to say." 

He nods back when the rest of their party reunites. To the guard, he says,  "Thank you kindly. Now, if you would be willing to do us one last favor, we need some of those wooden stakes. Bring us those and we will take care of the corpses."  Looking back to Gweyir and the priest, Kellon continues,  "Oh, right. So, we have a problem... The same man who tried to smuggle the relic was also hired to bring in corpses with grave dirt. The noble who wanted the relic also wanted to leave the town a little surprise. We're not sure how many corpses, so this could get messy." 

Kellon turns to Spider and tells him,  "I have a very important job for you, boyo. I need you to take these bones back to the church and the nice man who lives there. He will know what to do with them." 
RandomWombat
 "Yeah alright, more fetching,"  the guard bemoans, pacing away on another errand. But if it means someone else fighting the potential vampires, he's all for it.

Accepting the bag, Spider peeks inside and looks dazzled for a moment.  "Ooo. I'll do it fast as a fly, Kellon!"  Chirping cheerfully in agreement, Spider leaps and crawls back to the rooftops to make his way across town to the church.

  "That's good,"   Gweyir says, to the news of the smuggled bodies. She grins at the looks she gets from Sokol and Father Donavich. She stretches out her arms and fingers, limbering up.   "We need practice killing vampires if we're going to oust you-know-who."  
 "Aha! I see what you mean, miss. Let us avoid being bitten though, yes? Well. You avoid being bitten. They will be getting no fresh meal from this one, ay,"  he pats his bicep with a slap of his palm, making a dead thud.

It doesn't take too long for the guard to return this time; the east gate is nearby. Bundled under his arm are two long stakes, more like wooden spears, with bloodied ends that once housed impaled wolf heads. He dumps the stakes on the ground and adjusts his spear back into his primary grip, as Gweyir picks two up and hands one to Donavich to spare his back the trouble of bending down.

 "Hope you don't mind if I ah, wait outside. Keep watch, you know. Case you need backup,"  the guard looks up at the closed up windows of the building with a frown.
Prehysterical
Kellon likewise gives Gweyir a deadpan look.  "There's surviving the Storm and then there's  chasing  it, lass. Let's not be overconfident here." 

When the guard returns, Kellon rolls his eyes at the guard's attempt to save face.  "Aye, figured that was the plan. Hopefully, this will be quick, but if we're not out in an hour, grab every stake and vial of holy water you can. I've no intention of letting Strahd's spawn run amok." 

After checking that everyone is ready, Kellon heads back into the building. He makes for the door behind the counter.
RandomWombat
  "Got to keep spirits up somehow,"   the elf snarks back.

As the group makes their way inside, the guard takes up position next to the door. His spear rests against his shoulder and he chuckles nervously.  "Right. Hour. Got it." 

The door opens up and they file inside. The door the coffin maker had emerged from reveals a workshop. This workshop contains everything a carpenter needs to make coffins and furniture - hammers, nails, planks of wood, nothing amiss. Had the guard not brought them stakes already, they could surely have whittled their own makeshift vampire shanks here. Three sturdy worktables stretch the length of the west wall.

After a moment's wait with no shouts or warning from Kellon, Gweyir opens another of the doors off to the side of the room, revealing a mostly empty room. A table with four chairs is in one corner of this room, with a lantern hanging from a chain directly above. Two well-made cabinets stand against the east wall, holding junk and knick knacks. Some look like wood carvings the coffin maker may have made himself in the workshop, including some owls and even a carved wooden snail. It appears to be little more than a sitting room for guests. The cobwebs suggest he doesn't get them much these days.

  "All clear here,"   Gweyir reports.

The last door, nestled in the corner with the others, reveals a wooden staircase leading to the second floor. There is a shallow boxed wooden platform to the side, folded against the wall, which looks like it's meant to slot into a rope and pulley system. To help the coffin maker haul heavy loads up or down the stairs more safely.
Prehysterical
The inspection of the first floor turns up nothing suspicious in its own right. If anything, the undertaker seems to be a lonely sort. No wonder the old man reacted so strongly to the thought of losing this place...

Looking up at the stairs, Kellon dons his shield and equips his warhammer.  "I'll go first,"  he states as he gingerly begins making his way up the wooden stairs.
RandomWombat
The wood creaks and bends in ways that bring back unpleasant memories - the Durst house, and alongside it all the horrors therein. But the wood holds, carrying him up to the second floor. Two doors sit atop the stairway, to either side. A quick peek in both shows nothing unusual, not yet at least.

To the right is a kitchen. Or the skeleton of one, at least. The old man doesn't have anything as fancy as a wood burning stove, so the best he might muster to cook a meal is a fire pit in the yard. A square wooden table sits in the kitchen, and along two of the walls is a broad wooden cupboard and countertop, lined with tarnished knives, old wooden plates and bowls, and a cutting board. Through the kitchen is another door.

To the left is a much larger room, a storage room from the looks of it. A large, drafty room full of cobwebs and piles of stored wooden planks, raw materials for the fashioning of a body's final bed. There is an open crate full of more stacked planks in the corner, and several more deeper inside - shut, but with telltale signs of dirt here and there around the bases. Everything is only dimly lit by light sneaking in around the edges of the shuttered windows around the border of the house.
Prehysterical
After checking that the immediate coast is clear, Kellon looks back down the stairs and tilts his head toward the room on the left. He whispers,  "The windows are shuttered... Let's get them open, aye?"  Kellon himself does not do that, but instead moves further into the room to check for any nasty surprises. The thought briefly crosses his mind of attempting stealth, but a quarter-ton of turtle-man would never be able to creak on wooden boards on the second story.
RandomWombat
With a nod of agreement, the group files in after him and spreads out around the room, giving the crates a cautious berth. The latches are undone, and windows swung open, letting dreary sunlight in to illuminate the dust swirled in the cool breeze that accompanies it. The crates remain still, and the storage space is eerily quiet save for their footsteps and the creaking of hinges on the windows.

In large letters, 'JUNK' is stamped upon the sides of the crates.
Prehysterical
So far, so good... Kellon approaches the closest of the enclosed containers and spies the word written on the side. He scoffs at the cheap attempt at deception.  "Pfft,  indeed ."  He looks to the others and instructs,  "Be ready with the stakes." 

The warhammer and shield are slung away as Kellon grabs the lid of the box and pulls it away.
RandomWombat
With his claws, Kellon digs in under the crate's lid and lifts it away. The heavy wood thuds to the floor, revealing the crate to be filled with soft dirt. The dirt lays still for a single, tense moment. Then it bursts out in a cloud that is momentarily blinding. There is a bestial hiss as claws scrabble against Kellon's arms, but their ferocity is soon drown out by pained shrieks as the sunlight pouring into the room causes the creature distress.

Clad in leather armor and fine clothes, the creature wears a necklace of four vials, three of them filled with dark red blood. Its pale flesh bubbles, boiling at the touch of sunlight. But shrouded behind the dread clouds of Barovia, and filtered in through the window, the light does not seem as potent as it should be. The creature soon regains its composure, and before Kellon can react it is upon him again. This time desperate hands dig deep into his arm with wicked claws, and the vampire lunges forward to bite him upon the cheek, draining sanguine liquid like a parasite.

He can hear more shuffling sounds from the other crates in the room, and then the thud of wood on the floor as they emerge, shielding themselves with their cloaks and attempting to approach the newly opened windows. Six in total.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Vampire Spawn multiattacks Kellon with claws, but misses both.
Vampire Spawn suffers  10  radiant damage from sunlight, halting its regeneration.

Vampire Spawn multiattacks Kellon with a claw and a bite, for  11  physical damage, and  4  necrotic health drain.
The other Vampire Spawn use their actions to emerge from their crates.
All Vampire Spawn suffer  10  radiant damage.

It is Kellon's turn.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Vampire Spawn - 19
Kellon - 17
Sokol - 7
Father Donavich - 6
Gweyir - 4
 
Prehysterical
Kellon had been hoping to catch the dead napping, but it seems that their sleep was merely feigned. Kellon blanches at the ferocity with which the vampire spawn springs to action, which allows the creature to inflict deep cuts into his arm and sink its teeth into his face. For its trouble, the spawn receives not only blood, but Kellon's own inner lightning. He cries out in pain and pushes the vampire spawn away before reaching for a chip of mica in his spell component pouch.  "Bloodsucking filth.  Stoneshatter!!! "  The insult hisses from Kellon's beak before he shouts as if to snatch thunder from the sky and bring it into the room.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon uses Wrath of the Storm to deal  (2d8)[ 4 ]  lightning damage back to the vampire spawn (Dex save for half).

Kellon casts Shatter two squares to the right  in the upper right corner to catch the three spawn next to him.
He will use his Channel Divinity to maximize the damage to  24  thunder damage. Con save for half. The vials that they are wearing and the stone in the wall has disadvantage on the saving throw.
 
RandomWombat
As the dead one drinks down his blood, it receives an unpleasant surprise, the shock startling it and causing it to rear back, flinching in pain - and ruining any nourishing restoration it may have gotten from the meal. What follows is a mighty roar, blasting the monsters with a shockwave of sound that causes ripples in the air, shattering stone and wood and sending pieces flying in every direction. The old floor beneath them collapses, and the ceiling above tumbles down on top of them as the rafters break apart. The stone wall bursts, letting in more sunlight and leaving a gaping hole to the outside, overlooking a neighboring building... which has suffered some unfortunate broken windows.

 "Nicely done, my friend!"  Sokol shouts over the ringing in everyone's ears as he draws his blade and lunges at the vampire in front of him. His thrust is caught by the vampire's elbow as it shifts into a close-quarters combat stance. When he shakes off the scarf around his face and lunges in for a bite of his own, the vampire grabs his face and holds it back with a look of disgust. Twisting the blade in the vampire's grasp, Sokol aligns the blade with the arm holding it in place, cutting into the pale flesh beneath its fine garments.

Father Donavich takes the holy symbol around his neck in hand, stepping away from the window and holding it aloft in the room, and above the hole to the floor beneath.  "Fell creatures! By the Morninglord's light, you are forbidden! Return to the dust from whence you came!"  The symbol gleams with radiance that reflects the light pouring in from outside, gathering it into a ball of blazing divine fury that scorches the screeching undead.

  "Hang in there, Kellon!"   her supportive words ringing with magic, Gweyir runs over to their side of the room and slashes the vampire Sokol is keeping busy with her blade, landing a solid hit.

In their desperate state, the vampires cast below by Kellon's spell flee from sight, and from the cascading light above them. They disappear into the lower reaches of the house, outside of view.

Those left above fight ferociously, like cornered predators. The one from the furthest corner of the room runs at Kellon, grabbing him by the neck and digging in deep with its claws. But its lunge to bite at him is blocked by the collar of his shell, getting in the way of its thirsty fangs. The others are under similar assault, with the vampire fighting Sokol turning its attention to Gweyir - a much juicier, living target. But she fends it away with her blade, as the continued exposure to sunlight weakens it.

The last can't seem to reach Father Donavich, struggling against the light from his holy symbol. But it reaches back and shuts the window, holding it closed with one arm and shrouding its corner in, if not darkness, shadow.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon's Wrath deals  4  lightning damage, eliminating the healing it got from the bite.
Kellon casts Shatter, dealing full  24  damage to the two lower vamps and half damage of  12  to the northern one. They fall through the floor, taking  5  damage from the fall and collapsing debris, after being halved by resistance.
Sokol attacks twice, missing both. He uses Action Surge to attack again, hitting for  2  damage.
Father Donavich uses Radiance of Dawn, dealing  19  radiant damage to the two nearest vampires; the rest take a halved  9  damage.
Gweyir casts Healing Word on Kellon, restoring  5  hit points. She attacks Sokol's vampire for  5  damage.

Vampire Spawn all take  10  sunlight damage.
Vampire Spawn claws Kellon for  10  damage, but its bite misses.
Vampire Spawn claws and bites at Gweyir, but misses both.
Vampire Spawn shuts the window behind it and slashes at Father Donavich with a claw for a miss. It uses its bonus action to hold the window closed, keeping it out of direct light in its corner.
The Vampire Spawn below flee into the dark.

It is Kellon's turn.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Vampire Spawn - 19
Kellon - 17
Sokol - 7
Father Donavich - 6
Gweyir - 4
 
Prehysterical
Distracted by the pain, Kellon hadn't even counted on the ceiling collapsing on top of the foul creatures or their fall through the floor. If this place is not purged by fire, let it by thunder and lightning...

Only Gweyir's magical words of encouragement allow him to stand against the next attack. The claws of these horrors seem unnaturally sharp as they part Kellon's scales like butter. Thankfully, his plastron protects his neck from dispensing blood wine. He feels his body growing sluggish and his eyes blurry as blood loss begins to stack up. Kellon thinks for a fraction of a second about healing himself, but stubborn pride compels him to strike back at the monster with his own claws. He calls out to his god to once again summon Poseidon's trident to smite the unholy abomination.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon uses Wrath of the Storm again on this other vampire:  (2d8)[ 13 ]  lightning damage. Dex save for half.

Kellon claws at the vampire spawn.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 18 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 25 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+4)[ 5 ]  melee slashing damage

He spends a bonus action to summon a Spiritual Weapon on the opposite side of the vampire spawn.
Spell attack:  (1d20+5)[ 7 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 9 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 10 ]  Force damage
 
RandomWombat
Like an electric eel, touching Kellon proves to be a bad idea for the vampire, who suffers a brutal electrical shock and only manages to pull away thanks to its undead flesh being immune to pain... save, it seems, for the pain of the light. His claws don't cut as deep as he would like, however. The vampire's flesh offers impressive resistance, like trying to claw into thick clay.

Circling around his opponent, Sokol takes advantage of Gweyir's assistance to get behind it, pulling free his blade and stabbing it through the vampire's spine. Unfortunately the wound doesn't prove as debilitating as it should be, but Sokol grabs on and bites viciously into the vampire's neck with his own unnaturally sharp jaws, in an attack of great poetic irony if not efficacy. Gweyir strikes from the front, delivering another shallow slash across its clay-like flesh.

Father Donavich holds out his holy symbol once more to the vampire in front of him, pressing it back with the weaker, lingering motes of light that float around it.  "You will not escape the light! Bask in its glow!"  Its claw flashes out, cutting through the priest's robes and leaving a scratch along his arm.

Flickering fairy lights gather around Kellon, drifting out of Gweyir's hood and floating near his wounds. The pain begins to subside, and a fragile shell of protective force guards them from further bleeding. The vampire keeps coming at him, but its weakness is clear. It can barely lift its arms, as the sun beats down upon it.

Gweyir's foe gets better luck, practically falling at her and landing a bite upon her arm. She grunts as she kicks it away, blood running from the wound and painting around its mouth.   "I heard creaking from the stairs! I think some of 'em came back up!"   she calls out in warning. But no vampires emerge into the room.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon's counterattack blasts the vampire for  6  damage, as it passes its save.
Kellon's claw deals  2  more damage to his Vampire Spawn, while the Spiritual Weapon misses.
Sokol attacks twice for a  3  damage critical, and a  3  damage bite to his Vampire Spawn.
Father Donavich casts Hand of Radiance, dealing  3  radiant damage to his Vampire Spawn and keeping its regeneration down.
Gweyir uses Balm of the Summer Court, granting Kellon  5  healing and  2  temp hp.
Gweyir slashes her and Sokol's Vampire Spawn for  2  damage.

Kellon and Sokol's Vampire Spawn take  10  radiant damage.
Vampire Spawn misses Kellon twice.
Vampire Spawn misses Gweyir with a claw, but bites her for  5  physical damage and  5  necrotic health drain.
Vampire Spawn claws Father Donavich for  7  damage, but misses its bite.

It is now Kellon's turn again!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Vampire Spawn - 19
Kellon - 17
Sokol - 7
Father Donavich - 6
Gweyir - 4
 
Prehysterical
Such unholy vigor only serves to fuel Kellon's own rage. He finds the space to draw his silvered warhammer and glares at the weakening spawn.  "Back to the Pit with you!"  Kellon swings the weapon down like... well, exactly what it is.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon draws his weapon as part of his Attack action.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 26 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 9 ]  silver melee bludgeoning damage

Kellon uses his Bonus Action to attack with the Spiritual Weapon.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 6 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 18 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 11 ]  Force damage
 
RandomWombat
The hammer smashes into the vampire's face. His head snaps backwards, and his nose twists at an unnatural angle. Staggering back, the vampire glares at Kellon through a horribly disfigured face. A trident flies in from behind and jabs into his back, compounding his wretched state.

Sokol tries to keep up his attack on the vampire, but it shakes him off with only a small scratch from his teeth. Drawing out her druidic totem, Gweyir holds it up and points it at Kellon's opponent.   "Malamalama Mahina!"   she incants, conjuring a brilliant pillar of white light around the vampire.

Their two vampires are nearly at the point of collapse now, each struggling to fight from one knee as their exposed flesh catches fire and begins to blow away as dust. The one in front of him lunges forward at an unexpected angle - at his legs. Its fangs sink in and Kellon feels his blood draining out from beneath. Flickering lights sparkle in his vision and he falls to the ground.


What feels like only moments later, Kellon finds himself pulled back out of the dark of the void with a gasp. More fey light gathers around his wounds to seal them and stem the flow. Gweyir's words echo in his still-dazed ears, and a beam of white light surrounds the vampire looming over him again. Beneath the light of sun and moon both, it finally gives out, and in a flash of flame and dust it blows away, leaving empty clothes that fall to the floor.

Gweyir is in as rough shape as he is, struggling to fight off the vampire snapping its jaws at her neck. Father Donavich has moved away from his opponent to open a new window, forcing the vampire to charge at him. But with the light to his back, the monster cannot get a hold of him.

There is still no sign of the three that Kellon knocked down from the attic space, but their healing has surely reinvigorated them by now.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon critically hits Vampire Spawn for  6  damage with his hammer.
Spiritual Trident hits Vampire Spawn for  11  force damage.
Sokol stabs at his Vampire Spawn, but misses. He bites for  1  damage.
Father Donavich casts Hand of Radiance, dealing  4  radiant damage to his Vampire Spawn.
Gweyir casts Moonbeam on Kellon's Vampire Spawn, dealing  5  radiant damage as it passes its save.

Kellon and Sokol's Vampire Spawn take  10  radiant damage from the sun.
Kello's Vampire Spawn bites him for  7  physical damage and  8  necrotic health drain, KOing him.
Sokol's Vampire Spawn bites Gweyir for  9  physical damage and  5  necrotic health drain. She fails Concentration, ending Moonbeam.
Father Donavich's Vampire Spawn bites him, but he uses Warding Flare to inflict disadvantage and make it miss.

Kellon is unconscious. Spiritual weapon technically does not end, but cannot attack without direction.
Sokol bites his Vampire Spawn for  2  damage.
Father Donavich risks an AoO, which misses. He opens up a new window, bringing in more light against his Vampire Spawn
Gweyir uses Balm of the Summer Court to bring Kellon back up with  9  health and  2  temp hp.
Gweyir casts Moonbeam on Kellon's Vampire Spawn again, dealing  6  damage.

Kellon's Vampire Spawn is dusted by sunlight. The other two take  10  radiant damage from the sun.
Sokol's Vampire Spawn misses both attacks on Gweyir.
Donavich's Vampire Spawn misses both attacks on him.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Vampire Spawn - 19
Kellon - 17
Sokol - 7
Father Donavich - 6
Gweyir - 4
 
Prehysterical
Is there anything more disheartening to a warrior than seeing a foe shrug off what should have been a deathblow? Such a feeling washes over Kellon as the vampire spawn still stands despite his best efforts and even Gweyir's aid. Once again, the legs prove to be the tortle's weak spot and he feels the dark closing in... raging in the dying light...

Sharp, painful reality reasserts itself as Gweyir's druidic magic brings him back from the brink. The light from the sundered wall proves the ultimate weapon and the downfall of his foe. Kellon sees Gweyir fighting for her life and charges forward with a roar, the spectral trident moving in tandem and surging over the vampire spawn before striking it in the back. With his hammer still in one hand, Kellon draws the Spear of Light in the other and stabs its head at the vampire. He's throwing everything at the wall at this point.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon moves toward the vampire spawn and draws the Spear of Light as part of his Attack action.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 8 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 13 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 5 ]  damage

The Spiritual Weapon moves beside Kellon and attacks the Vampire Spawn.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 8 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 14 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 5 ]  Force damage
 
RandomWombat
The dual polearms from each side cause the vampire to snarl and spin around, swerving between both attacks. But even as it moves, it falters and parts of its body fall away in clouds of dust. The creature is clearly on its last legs. Sokol's weapons dig into it, but it rasps out a defiant shriek right up until Gweyir slashes off its head with her sword. A glance of her eyes directs the pillar of moonlight across the room, enveloping the one that Father Donavich is still struggling against.

  "I think I heard another window opening somewhere,"   Gweyir says, weakly, through her blood loss fatigue.

The good Father is holding up his symbol, but the brilliance of the sun flooding in behind him seems to overshadow the lesser light from his symbol, and the vampire scarcely seems to tell a difference. It falls upon him, and he yelps as it sinks fangs into the soft tissue of his arm, draining blood that refreshes its ghastly existence.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon and his Spiritual Weapon attack, but each miss.
Sokol attacks Vampire Spawn twice, dealing  3  damage total.
Father Donavich casts Hand of Radiance, but his Vampire Spawn resists.
Gweyir slashes Vampire Spawn for  4  damage, finishing it off.
Gweyir moves Moonbeam to the last visible Vampire Spawn, dealing  4  radiant damage after a successful save.

Vampire Spawn takes  10  damage from the sun.
Vampire Spawn attacks Father Donavich, missing with its claw but landing a bite for  9  physical damage and  8  necrotic health drain.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Vampire Spawn - 19
Kellon - 17
Sokol - 7
Father Donavich - 6
Gweyir - 4
 
Prehysterical
Kellon, running ragged himself, doesn't want to think about how they're going to handle the vampire spawn downstairs. All they can do is kill the beasts one at a time.

In an effort to give the vampire spawn something else to think about, Kellon charges forward with the trident beside him and stabs forward at the undead.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon attacks with the Spear of Light.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 9 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
Damage:  (1d6+4)[ 6 ] 

Spiritual Weapon moves north of the vampire spawn and attacks.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 16 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 8 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 8 ]  Force damage
 
RandomWombat
  "Careful!"   Gweyir calls out, as Kellon runs into the pillar of silver light. It sears his flesh, and he feels the beast inside, in its accursed cage, yowling in pain. It's too much, throwing off his aim with the spear, but his magical trident manages to score a hit upon the undead.

As the moonbeam shifts off of Kellon to hang in the air above the hole in the floor, Sokol moves in and lands a powerful thrust into the vampire's side. Father Donavich joins in the dogpile, using the wooden church scepter this time to clobber it upside the head.

Finally, Gweyir leaps over the empty crate and strikes with her blade. Impaled between Sokol and Gweyir's swords, it writhes and tries to escape, but the light of the sun saps the last of its strength. With a dying whimper the monster vanishes, as dust on the wind.

In the aftermath, everyone is panting, exhausted, drained - save for Sokol, whose old and stale blood the vampires rather pointedly ignored. Everyone remains on guard, spinning around, looking for a sign of the other three attacking. But the house is silent. Dust from the broken boards floats in the air, dancing in the sunlight pouring in from all sides.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Entering the Moonbeam causes  4  radiant damage, after Kellon passes his save.
Kellon's spear misses, but his Spiritual Weapon hits Vampire Spawn for  8  force damage.
Sokol stabs Vampire Spawn for  4  damage, but his bite misses.
Father Donavich attacks Vampire Spawn with his club, dealing  2  damage.
Gweyir moves Moonbeam off of Kellon and attacks Vampire Spawn for  3  damage. Just enough for the sunlight to finish it off as its turn comes around.

Combat has ended.
 
Prehysterical
Father Donavich's plight had concerned Kellon so much that he had forgotten that the moonlight might burn him, as well. Fortunately, the party's surge to help the priest wear down the vampire spawn enough for the Morninglord himself to bring an end to the accursed one.

Kellon feels more than hurt, more than tired. It feels like some of the strength and life has been sapped from his very bones. His breath comes in ragged and shallow as he leans upon the Spear of Light, the dark green of his scales turning grey with reduced vitality. They're in rough shape, but there's still three more vampire spawn below. Eyeing the hole in the floor with that thought in mind, Kellon whispers to the others as quietly as he can... when he has the breath.

 "Father, can you do anything about these wounds? I don't know how long we have before the bastards downstairs come up to pay us a visit. I have a bit of healing, but it would take a while and I'd rather give the graveborn a second helping of thunder."  He slings the warhammer back onto his belt.
RandomWombat
Pushing off of the wall, Father Donavich coughs a little and walks around the pile of dust, giving it a wary berth. He nods softly and takes his holy symbol, beginning to work healing magic upon the three of them. He doesn't look so bad, but Gweyir is looking every bit as pale and drained of color as Kellon. Healing light mends wounds and restores vigor to sore and tired bodies, but the paleness remains, and it's as though their buckets have sprung a leak at 'half-full' and can't hold any more.

  "I feel a little better at least,"   Gweyir says optimistically, even as she stretches her stiff neck.

Moving around them as Father Donavich tends to wounds, Sokol places himself between them and the door, keeping watch.  "I should take the fore when we go looking, ay? Still fresh as a rose." 
 
 Spoiler: Mechanics 
Father Donavich casts four Cure Wounds, two on Gweyir and one each on himself and Kellon.
Kellon is healed for  8 , but cannot go above his temporary maximum of 12.
Gweyir is healed for  4  and  8 .
Father Donavich is healed for  11 .
 
Prehysterical
Kellon can almost feel the healing stop as the withering afterbites leave their mark. Gweyir displays her trademark confidence, but Kellon isn't so sure now. They're operating at half strength and the vampire spawn below will have had time to recover. That's not going to stop him from going downstairs, of course, but it is a thought that is in the back of his mind.

He is loathe to let Sokol go first; Kellon feels like he always needs to be the first in with his shell and shield and thunder. The tortle swallows his pride, however. Sokol is at full strength and the stairs are narrow. The zombie wouldn't be able to do anything from the back, anyway. Kellon gives a reluctant nod.  "All right, but I'll be right behind you. Gweyir, you got any more of those vines from the other day? Would be real nice to pin these bastards down."  This time, he will have his shield ready.
RandomWombat
  "Enough power left for one,"   the druid answers, falling in behind Kellon and leaving the old cleric at the rear of their procession down.   "Or one more pillar of moonlight."  
 "Blasted thing had me pinned in the corner... couldn't toss any sunlight spears,"  Father Donavich laments.  "It was a good idea to open the windows. We'd not have emerged victorious in the dark." 

When they reach the first floor and enter the main room of the house, a pile of broken wood and stone is strewn about atop the coffins, alongside one of the grave dirt crates which has spilled all over the floor. Gweyir and Kellon peek into the other rooms, with no sign of the vampire spawn. Then the druid looks down and squats on the floor.   "I see boot tracks, one of them must have stepped in the dirt. They go into the workshop, but double back and up the stairs. But nothing came at us from behind,"   she points out, puzzled.

There is a knocking from the door.  "Ay, outlanders. What is going on?"  the town guard's voice hollers through the muffling wood.
Prehysterical
Father Donavich's compliment only further sours Kellon's mood. Even by separating the vampire spawn and using superior numbers, they had just barely scraped out a victory. Hardly worthy for a disciple of the Tempest.

The downstairs prove silent as the grave. If anything, the absence of the vampire spawn is even more disturbing than their presence would be. Confusion gnaws at him until Gweyir's words from earlier click with horrible realization. Kellon gives Gweyir a horrified look.  "Check the windows upstairs. Not the ones we opened, but the other ones." 

Moving closer to the door, Kellon raises his voice for the guard to hear.  "Stay outside! We have three unaccounted for. Make sure no one leaves the building!" 
RandomWombat
Gweyir nods solemnly and marches back upstairs, Father Donavich following her with huffing breaths as his creaky old legs traverse the stairs once more. Sokol remains behind with Kellon, not wanting to leave anyone alone.

 "Er, alright! Sure thing,"  the guard answers through the door.

Not long after, Gweyir peers down the stairs and motions the two of them up.   "You're going to want to see this."   She waits until Kellon and Sokol are following, and leads them through the small dining room into the coffinmaker's bedroom. It's a mess, with the mattress tossed aside and the bedsheet and blanket missing. The drawers have also been opened and their contents spilled upon the floor. A pair of windows overlooks an open area of trees and unkempt grass in the crook behind two neighborhoods. Not at all like the carefully planned and beautified park, but rather like a small forgotten pod of wilderness that the town forgot to pave over.

They can't see the vampires outside, but the glass of the windows has been raised up. Someone must have climbed out.

  "I think they covered themselves up. It doubt it can protect them completely, but all they have to do is find shade until nightfall."  
Prehysterical
Kellon's grim suspicions are confirmed. He nods in confirmation of Gweyir's speculation.  "Then like any fester, we will have to go in and tear this problem out by its roots. Gods only know what sort of havoc they could wreak on a town so distracted..."  He's not happy about the news, but maybe the undead are contained for now.

He lugs his carcass back down the stairs and opens the front door to the surprised guard.  "We got three of them, but the other three vampire spawn went through the back window into yon copse of trees."  Kellon motions over his shoulder with a clawed thumb.  "I need you to grab what members of the watch you can and lock that area down. When we go in to flush them out, they may try to slip out behind us." 
RandomWombat
  "In the state we're in it wouldn't be a bad idea to seek some help. Spider should be back soon. Ismark and Ireena?"   Gweyir suggests, while they make their way down. Father Donavich stops in the main room and starts taking some of the grave dirt, pouring it from his hand into a small pouch while they open up the door to talk to the guard.

 "What do you mean v-"  the guard stops and looks around, then hushes his voice to avoid stirring a panic.  "Vampires on the loose? Aaagh, there's nothing we can do against a vampire! Maybe...  maybe  Izek could take  one ..."  The man is practically shaking in his boots.
Prehysterical
It stings Kellon's pride to admit it, but Gweyir is right. Still, he clacks his beak unhappily before suggesting,  "Aye, you're right. If anything, I'm sure Ireena will be happy to stick it to Strahd in some manner. I just hate bringing them here to sanctuary just to throw them into a fight... Father, could you go find them at the baron's place? If anyone has the authority to countermand the baron and get them out of whatever noble nonsense they're currently involved with, it's probably you." 

Turning to the panicking guard, Kellon plants a clawed hand on his shoulder and fixes the guard with a steady gaze.  " Focus , man! I'm not asking you to handle the vampires; I need you to make sure that they don't slip out unnoticed. Right now, they are cowering beneath the shade of those trees and waiting for nightfall before they make their move. Your job is to make sure that they sit there until we go in and to raise the alarm if they get around us. We will handle slaying the rest, but they cannot be allowed to exit that little wooded area. Think for two seconds what would happen if they had free run of this place."  Kellon sweeps his gaze over all of the townspeople walking by, especially any children running in the street. He looks back to the guard and swears,  "We need your help. I swear in sight of storm and thunder that they'll have to walk over my corpse before I let anyone get hurt, but we can't be everywhere at once.  We need your help. " 
RandomWombat
  "Look at it this way. If the vampires find some way to steal or sabotage the bones before the ritual, this place won't be sanctuary much longer. And that's as much their problem as anybody else's."  
 "I will,"  the Father nods to Kellon's instructions, beginning to plod away out of the small neighborhood.

His heavy and menacing claw is perhaps less comforting to the town guard than he'd intended. But the man makes a groaning sound of reluctant agreement.  "Right. Just keeping watch. I will alert the rest of the militia."  He slides out from under Kellon's claw and scuttles away after the old priest.

  "We can at least keep watch while we wait for him to bring more eyes. Or the vamps might slip away before he gets someone over here... if they haven't already,"   Gweyir rounds the building and sets her sharp elven eyes on watching over the unkempt copse.
Prehysterical
Kellon had had the same thought himself, but he remembers that Ireena has seemingly suffered from the vampire more than any person they've met here in Barovia. She hardly seemed to need coddling, but just one day of sanctuary would be a blessing for the woman.

At the very least, the guard seems finally motivated to do his job. Kellon nods in fervent agreement with Gweyir's assessment.  "Aye, we can do that."  He moves to watch over a section of the copse that is not immediately visible to Gweyir, trying to cover every angle that can possibly be covered.  "Sokol, we may need a third pair of eyes. I don't imagine I need to tell anyone to make some noise if they see anything..." 
RandomWombat
While they wait in their watch positions, Sokol - still fresh, figuratively speaking - starts to slowly patrol within view of the two.  "I will be sure to holler if I see anything,"  he says, scanning the trees and bushes.

The first one to arrive back is Spider, crawling up over a rooftop that the group can see on the northern edge of the copse. Spotting them too, the arachnid raises a foreleg to wave it at them and continues hopping rooftops until close enough to talk to them properly from up above.

 "Spider did just like you asked and delivered the bone bag, Kellon!" 
Prehysterical
A small smile curls Kellon's beak as the ever-positive Spider returns. He waves back and tells the arachnid,  "Thank you, lad. Now, we need your help. There are three dead things hiding in those trees over there. Vampires, you understand? Can you tell if they are still in there? We don't want them hurting anyone." 
RandomWombat
Peering out into the wild area from its vantage point, an eight-eyed scan with a bird's eye view.  "I don't see anything, Kellon!"  Spider reports back cheerily, perhaps still not understanding what a vampire is.

  "Worst case scenario they've already crossed through. Hid somewhere in town."  
 
 Spoiler: Kellon Knowledge 
From his previous success on vampire knowledge, Kellon recalls that a vampire cannot enter a private building unbidden. Suspiciously wrapped up in blankets and rags, the trio of vamps is unlikely to be invited in. So it will be hard for them to find easy shelter.
 
Prehysterical
As unpleasant as that thought is, it does make Kellon switch tactics.  "Spider! I need you to head that way,"  Kellon points in the direction that the vampires fled,  "and see if there are three people that are really dressed up in blankets and clothes, way more than usual. That'll be them, hiding from the sun. Once you see them, hurry back here."  It feels awkward, barking orders like a captain, but they will have to keep moving to stay on top of this threat.
RandomWombat
Turning on the rooftop with a cycling of legs, Spider looks on in the direction Kellon points.  "Okay! I will look for the blanket people!"  calling back, Spider begins moving once more in the direction it came from, along the rooftops of the houses that flank the right side of the copse and field.

Sokol strolls forward as well, getting nearer to the trees and looking around for a sign of the vampires. Looking back at Kellon, the zombie shakes his head. Nowhere that he can see here.

Tense minutes tick by waiting for news from anyone. A squad of six town guards arrive through the buildings spider had been hopping, breaking into three pairs of two including the guard Kellon had sent out. They form a perimeter around the area, waving the crew down. As Gweyir looks to Kellon to see who should approach them, Father Donavich and the Kolyana siblings arrive just behind the guard squad.

  "We heard what happened. What is the situation now?"   Ismark asks seriously, walking over to them.
Prehysterical
The minutes pass by with agonizing slowness, Kellon increasingly antsy with the idea that the vampire spawn might be getting further and further away. At last, reinforcements arrive in the form of the guards and their noble companions. Kellon steps forward and speaks quickly to Ismarck.  "No sign of the bloodsuckers. I sent Spider on to do some scouting for us in case they tried to slip away into the crowds. Hopefully, the three of them are still in there and we can put an end to this right now. We were hoping to get some back-up before going in there. Bastards were hard enough to fight in direct sunlight. I have no desire to be corpse fodder in a dark little nook." 

He hefts his spear.  "This stops  here . Once the sun sets, there's not a damn thing we can do to keep them contained. We need you to watch our backs when we go in there together. Are you ready?" 
RandomWombat
Drawing his longsword, Ismark offers a stalwart nod.   "Let us dispatch them with all due haste."   Now with more manpower at their back, the group presses forward into the copse of trees. The guards remain around the perimeter to warn them of any vampires attempting to escape. Despite a weary look from her brother, Ireena moves in to join the search along with Father Donavich.

As they draw nearer, Kellon spies only a single shape within a thicket of trees and bushes, cowering in the darkest corner beneath the leaves and branches. They are wrapped up in old rags and clothes from the coffinmaker's drawers, perhaps not as effective as the sheets and blankets that the other two had huddled under, thus why this vampire was left behind. The creature looks out at them with glowering red eyes, clearly just as aware of them as they are of it, yet without any bow it can do little but look on and wait for someone to approach within reach of its claws.

Ismark looks back at Kellon.   "Looks like a pitiful thing, doesn't it? We could probably pick it off from here with spells or bows."  
  "It might know where the others went,"   Gweyir puts forth.
Prehysterical
It isn't surprising to see Ireena determined to take part... Kellon knows that Ismarck wants to protect his sibling, but he admires the woman's grit.

While the absence of the other two vampires is disturbing, at least one is caught in the trap. They look like a caged animal ready to lash out. As the others voice their opinions, Kellon steps to the front of the group. He gives the captive vampire a steady stare, turning over options in his reptilian mind.  "...What did they call you in life, graveborn?" 
RandomWombat
Ismark flicks a look aside at Kellon, staying his blade for now. He seems to trust that Kellon has a plan.

The pair of eyes gleaming beneath the gathering of trees looks at Kellon, narrow and strained, yet unfocused. The eyes of something in pain. It doesn't seem to be burning beneath its shroud, but the sunlight may have at least equalized with and halted its regeneration. There are still dark spots upon the rags where wounds of battle have not healed.

 "In life,"  the vampire spawn seems to be turning the words over in his mouth, voice smooth and yet tinged with the growl of a desperate beast. After considering whether to answer, the creature decides, and responds with  "Bastion. It is  still  my name. Names are not lost in death." 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods slowly, recognizing the vampire's point.  "I am Kellon, if Strahd somehow didn't already let that slip... Well, Bastion, I will not lie to you. We have come here to put an end to your undeath,"  he states bluntly.  "Now, your two companions seem to have left you out in the cold for the sharks. We need to know where they went. If you tell us where they ran off to, I will grant you a swift and merciful death. Furthermore, I will see that your remains are given a proper burial and that your name be remembered... instead of being reduced to ash like the others. I think you will be hard-pressed for a better deal in your position..." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+3)[ 5 ] 
Insight:  (1d20+5)[ 20 ] 
Aaaand that ain't it, chief.
 
RandomWombat
 "Kellon."  The vampire repeats his name, glowering out from beneath the trees. Kellon can see the creature mulling over his offer - and see in its eyes the moment that it thinks it spots a weakness. The creature stands up, still skulking in the shadows, but in a stance that is far less small.  "My companions have gone to visit Baron Vargas. In spite of what the chattel believe, he and my master get on quite swimmingly... now, come and stake me, and let us be done with it." 

The vampire's words seem to shake Ismark and Ireena, Kellon can tell by the tightening of Ismark's grip around the handle of his weapon, and Ireena's thinly pressed lips. But Kellon has seen through the vampire's ruse - its answer likely as much of a lie as its intent to surrender. Beneath the rags, he can see its claw pulled back and ready to strike if someone were to draw near.
Prehysterical
For a moment, Kellon merely stands there with a neutral expression. For the first time in a while, he unslings the heavy crossbow from his pack and loads a crossbow bolt with meticulous, deliberate intent. Kellon aims at the vampire spawn. His next words are uncharacteristically quiet and cold.  "You know, it really chafes my rudder when people lie right to my face. Die with the same lack of dignity with which you faced death."  He fires.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+2)[ 20 ] 
Damage:  (1d10)[ 8 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Unable to protect itself, exposed as it is, the vampire recoils from the impact of the bolt through its side. It bares its fangs and begins advancing, with no intention of going down mewling in the shadows. Ismark was ready - he rushes inside and draws a handaxe, hurling it at the vampire. The creature ducks around it too quickly, and the blade slams into the tree behind it.

  "Iwi o ka Honua!"   Gweyir's chant resonates as the twigs and brambles in her hand glow, and her hair floats around her head. The thicket sprouts razor sharp thorns throughout, shredding the vampire open as it charges through. Unable to reach Kellon, the creature pushes its way towards Ismark instead. The noble bares his teeth right back, using his sword to deftly deflect the vampire's claw and then kicking it back before it can latch on.

Drawing an arrow from her quiver, Ireena fires - but the arrow flies past through the bushes. Moving forward, Donavich and Sokol draw nearer to lend aid to Ismark.

Spider crawls down from the rooftop and approaches the thicket.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon shoots the Vampire Spawn for  4  damage.
Spider climbs down and approaches.
Ismark throws a handaxe, but misses.
Gweyir casts Spike Growth.

Vampire Spawn takes  24  damage from Spike Growth as it moves towards Ismark. Claw and bite both miss.

Father Donavich moves closer.
Ireena shoots at Vampire Spawn, but misses.
Sokol moves up, but cannot attack yet.

Kellon's turn is up. The tree/bush spaces are difficult terrain.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Spider - n20
Ismark - 18
Gweyir - 17
Vampire Spawn Bastion - 14
Father Donavich - 13
Ireena - 9
Sokol - 4
Kellon - n1
 
Prehysterical
Dropping his crossbow, Kellon readies his spear as he flanks the vampire.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon moves forward and attacks the vampire spawn with the Spear of Light.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 10 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 8 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 8 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The stinging needles around his ankles bite in, and Kellon is soon reminded how much blood he's already lost as his head begins to spin. The tortle stumbles and nearly falls, having to prop himself up with the spear, and fumbling his thrust.

A web from Spider ensnares the creature, and Ismark lays into hit with his blade. Even restrained as it is, it yanks out of the way of his first swing, getting clipped by the second for a minor cut.

Circling around into the thicket, Gweyir reaches out and a whip of thorns lashes from her arm to wrap around the bewebbed vampire. She pulls it back towards her with impressive force, dragging it through the thorns. Lying between the canopies of the trees, the vampire's ragged protections have been torn apart, leaving it exposed to the sun. Sizzling and dissolving beneath the pure light, it is reduced to ash, as the others.

With the first of their quarry vanquished, Ismark drops his sword and steps forward to steady Kellon on his feet.   "Careful, friend, careful. I could not tell before, but you are terribly pale!"  
  "You can't keep rushing into things like that,"   Gweyir chastises, pushing through the branches to reach him. Her spells continually doing such harm is clearly eating at her. The elf sighs and advises,   "We're really in no state to be out here. We should go to the inn, rest this off, allow the others to continue the investigation."   She squats down and places a hand over the wounds around Kellon's ankles, a short healing chant mending the new damage.

 "The innkeepers are enemies of Strahd, ay?"  speaking in a low voice, so that the guard does not overhear sensitive information, Sokol sheathes his shortsword and looks between the two of them.  "Maybe a bird's eye view, it is what we need right now? Hm?" 
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon moves through the Spike Growth, taking  9  piercing damage.
Kellon stabs at the Vampire Spawn, but misses.

Spider shoots a web at Vampire Spawn, hitting and Restraining it.
Ismark slashes Vampire Spawn twice, hitting once for  3  damage.
Gweyir casts Thorn Whip, grabbing the Vampire Spawn for  5  damage and dragging it through two spike tiles for  8  damage, KOing it. She drops the Spike Growth spell.

Sunlight ends the vampire.

Gweyir casts Cure Wounds on Kellon, restoring  9  hit points.
 
Prehysterical
So bloody and single-minded is Kellon that he pays no heed to the threat the thorns offer to him as well. Fortunately, the others are more than capable of dispatching the vampire. Kellon finds himself feeling suddenly woozy and Ismarck holds him up. He grumbles at Gweyir's plea, but can't look her in the eye. When she mentions returning to the inn, however, Kellon's eyes regain their focus and he snaps his beak shut in temper.  "I will  not rest  until I know that every single one of them is dead! I'd sooner be served up as chopped fishbait than live with the knowledge that one of them got to the children! The very thought boils the sea salt out of my blood!" 

Sokol's suggestion, however, gives him pause. Their wereraven friend might be just what they need to bring this chase to a rapid close. With a frustrated growl, Kellon finally relents.  "Fine.  Fine.  We might as well be smart about this..."  Looking around, Kellon blinks in surprise.  "...Spider? You're back already? Any luck?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
In the future, can I get like a red color or some chevron patterning around AOE spells that can potentially friendly fire? Green on green isn't exactly obvious. Yes, I moved him into the AOE, but that would serve as a visual reminder to be considerate of positioning.
 
RandomWombat
  "I understand your frustration, but it won't do anyone any good if we get drained dry and turned into more of the vampire's thralls will it?"   Gweyir argues back, mouth set into a frown. The idea seems to rouse some other thoughts and she casts her gaze east towards Castle Ravenloft.

 "I saw a blanket person going along the wall!"  raising a leg, Spider points towards the southern wall near them.

 "That still leaves one unaccounted for,"  standing at the edge of the thicket, Father Donavich looks in the direction Spider is indicating.  "We were able to handle this one well enough. If they  have  split up, we may be able to defeat another." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Alright, I'll try to remember to make them stand out a bit more in the future.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon's eyes widen at Spider's news.  "Good lad!" 

To Father Donavich, he says,  "If  all  of us can't take down one vampire spawn, Strahd might as well scoop me out of my shell and use it as a serving bowl."  Kellon takes a moment to recover his crossbow.  "You've done good work, Spider, but there's still one... blanket-person left. We need you to find them. You're the fastest out of all of us." 

The tortle emerges from the undergrowth and locks eyes with the first guard that he sees.  "Two left. One of them is fleeing along the southern wall. There's still one unaccounted for. Round up the rest of the guard and see if you can find them. With the remaining pair split up, this is our best chance." 
RandomWombat
 "Okay. Hunt safely, friends!"  with a bright chirp, Spider crawls back up to the rooftops and once again vanishes from sight.

The guards watch Spider go, clearly still off-put by the creature. But one of them - not the one from before - nods and takes charge.  "Let's move. We have a vampire on the loose, and we need to find it before the sun goes down!"  the man waves his hand and the other guards follow, spreading out to sound the alert and begin the search.

While they all move northward back into the town proper, Kellon and his team move towards the southern wall and begin tracing it west. Sokol trails behind as they move, having difficulty keeping up with the intense pace of the others. As they move, they begin to see something, a shape moving ahead of them dressed in a heavy cloak or blanket. The shape doesn't slow down; in fact, it seems to notice them and pick up the pace.

 "Go! I will catch up!"  Sokol tells them, not wanting to slow them down.

 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
The party can make Athletics checks to move quickly over a long distance, and catch up. Those who fall behind may be a round or two late.
 
Prehysterical
Thankfully, everyone is on-board and ready to do their part. After taking off in pursuit, the unlikely band spots the fleeing spawn. Kellon nods to Sokol and tries to find a second wind to catch up with their quarry.
 
 Spoiler: Athletics 
 (1d20+4)[ 19 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Kellon feels defiant strength flowing through his limbs, surging him forward with speed that would make a hare pale. But it seems that recent watering or rainfall has left some of the grass wet, and many of his allies without talons for grip find themselves slipping and falling behind. Ireena, face steeled in determination, keeps up with him as they approach the worst possible place - the back yard of Saint Andral's Orphanage. A place that is not, strictly speaking, a private residence.

The two of them are gaining on the vampire, the heavy quilt shroud shielding it from the sun slowing it down, and the grass slipping against its feet, even as undead limbs continue at full pace without tire. Just ahead of them it leaps over the yard fence and makes a beeline for the door.

A palm glances his shoulder as Kellon gives pursuit.  "We must be swift!"  Ireena is close on its heels, drawing her sword as she flies down from her leap and back to solid earth.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Vampire Spawn jumps the fence.

Ireena jumps the fence, giving chase, casting Heroism on Kellon as she goes. He gains 3 temp hp at the start of each of his turns while the spell continues, and has immunity to fear effects.

It is Kellon's turn.

 
 Spoiler: Jumping the Fence 
DC 12 Athletics or Acrobatics, as preferred, as a bonus action.
 

 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Gweyir - 20
Ismark - 19
Sokol - 16
Vampire Spawn - 10
Ireena - 7
Father Donavich - 6
Kellon - 5

Athletics Chase:
Round 2 Arrival - Father Donavich, Ismark
Round 3 Arrival - Gweyir, Sokol
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Is it bad that I read that and thought, "Ah Lawd, he coming"?
 


Toe claws are often underrated, as shown when Kellon digs them into the earth to catch up with his prey. His heart sinks, only to ignite with righteous fury, when he realizes the spawn's destination. With heart pounding and his lungs smashing against his shell with each breath, Kellon can only nod as he attempts to jump the fence. Not the easiest thing for a tortle weighing several hundred pounds, but there is no greater motivation than knowing that the children are on the other side of that door.
 
 Spoiler: Athletics 
 (1d20+4)[ 18 ] 

If he makes it, Kellon will draw the Spear of Light and try to close with the vampire spawn.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I'm sure the image of a tortle running at top speed kicking up clumps of wet grass while you're slipping and trying not to fall is equal parts hilarious and terrifying.
 


As his claw curls around it, the fencepost he uses as a lever to leap over creaks and bends. The very top snaps off, but only once he's on the downturn, and Kellon's solid frame braces easily against the impact of the landing. The spear is in his hand, and he is around the corner in a flash before the vampire can reach the door. Not able to advance and open the door without leaving its back exposed to the spear, the creature whirls around and a claw rakes across Kellon's shell leaving a shallow mark in the hard outer layer. He dips back before the vampire's fangs can sink into anything.

  "I am behind you!"   Kellon hears Ismark's voice clearly as the man launches from the ground and sails over the fence, quickly closing in behind. A huffing and puffing Father Donavich reaches as far as the fence and grips his holy symbol. A prayer too far to hear ignites spears of light in his hand, which he hurls one after another at the vampire. Two of them pierce through the cloth shroud and scorch the monster beneath, leaving burnt black holes in the fabric.

Rushing around the vampire to flank it with Kellon, Ireena interposes herself between it and the door. She takes her sword in both hands and assumes a defensive stance.  "You will not get to this door save through me, fiend."  She seems confident that Strahd's agent would not dare.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Ismark arrives and bounds the fence.

Vampire Spawn claws Kellon for  7  damage, but misses its bite.

Ireena Dashes to get in flanking position for Kellon. Her bonus action gives Kellon a d6 Bardic Inspiration die. Valor Bard's combat inspiration can also be added to damage rolls, or to AC as a reaction.
Father Donavich casts Scorching Ray, hitting with two for  8  and  11  damage.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Gweyir - 20
Ismark - 19
Sokol - 16
Vampire Spawn - 10
Ireena - 7
Father Donavich - 6
Kellon - 5

Athletics Chase:
Round 2 Arrival - Father Donavich, Ismark
Round 3 Arrival - Gweyir, Sokol
 
Prehysterical
Kellon hisses back at the vampire spawn in hate as it tries to further drain his life force. With the others rapidly closing, this bloodsucker's living death is ending fast. Taking advantage of the distraction caused by Ireena, Kellon stabs at his enemy.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 17 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 23 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 6 ] 
Kellon will use the Bardic Inspiration to increase damage:  (1d6)[ 4 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Unremarkable though the Spear of Light's power may be, its magic steel slices through the vampire's flesh with far more lethality than Ismark's mundane blade as the two of them try to press the attack. A crossbow bolt flies past and clatters against the stone foundations of the orphanage, as Gweyir runs after them with her ranged weapon drawn. Behind her, Sokol moves as swiftly as he can to hop the fence, but slips and fails to overcome.

Catching the blade of Ismark's sword in one claw, the vampire looks at him with a sneer of satisfaction and takes the opportunity to dig its claws deeply into his arm, slashing it and splattering blood onto the orphanage grass. The sight of the scarlet liquid inspires the creature to lunge forward to sample a taste, but Ismark wrenches his arm back and kicks it back to an arm's distance.

Deciding not to rely on steel alone, Ireena grabs the blanket shrouding the vampire and tears it free of the creature, exposing it to the harsh light of day. It howls in agony, cringing and covering its face. Another pair of flaming javelins pierce its chest, and the creature falls back into the grass, curling and writhing until it vanishes into dust.

With a sigh of relief, Ismark tears off a strip of the fancy cloth from the creature's cape and uses it to bind his arm.   "Well done, sister."  
 "Try not to sound so surprised,"  she responds dryly, then shoots Kellon a nod of recognition.  "Fine sprinting you did, Kellon. Forgive me for saying this just after I chided my brother-"  she makes a single, short laugh at herself,  "I was surprised at how quickly you can move." 

The others climb over the fence to join them, and Gweyir approaches to tend to Kellon and Ismark's claw wounds.   "It might've been a blessing these creatures panicked and split up. They're far easier to take down when we have the numbers."  

From inside the orphanage, one of the female caretakers carefully pulls aside the curtain of the door's window and peers out to see what the sounds of fighting are.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon stabs Vampire Spawn for  10  damage.
Gweyir fires at Vampire Spawn, but misses.
Ismark misses with two swings.
Sokol fails to hop the fence.

Vampire Spawn claws Ismark for a  17  damage critical, but misses its bite.

Ireena performs a 'grapple' to remove the blanket, and succeeds, exposing the vampire to the full sun.
Father Donavich casts Scorching Ray again, dealing  7  and  8  fire damage.

The vampire is damaged enough that it will die on its turn, and so combat ends.

Gweyir heals Kellon for  5  back up to his current maximum of 12, and Ismark for  7 .
 
Prehysterical
Small wonder the old lecher Strahd has such possessive feelings about Ireena... The lass proves as resourceful as she is tenacious. As the vampire burns in the sunlight, Kellon looks at the tip of his spear and tries to suppress a sigh. If only he had thought to use the weapon from the beginning...

Upon Ireena's compliment, Kellon wags a claw at her in mock severity.  "Well, missy, just remember that if you decide to pull on  this  tortle's tail!"  As Gweyir heals his wounds, Kellon counters Gweyir's optimism.  "Easier for us, sure, but none of the townsfolk are prepared to deal with such beasts. Besides, I prefer it when they stand right next to each other... Makes it easier to give them the shock of their lives! Er, unlives..." 

Kellon notices that the crude bandage around Ismarck's arm is still absorbing blood. He puts a soothing claw on the man's shoulder.  "He got you good, lad. Be whole." 
 
 Spoiler: Cure Wounds 
 (1d8+3)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "Me?"  Ireena places a hand on her collar with a mock poker face.  "A well behaved noble like me would never."  Beside her, her brother utters a short snicker at her words, and she elbows him for it.

Kellon's healing touch mends the last of Ismark's injury, the blood that had been soaking the bandage stopping completely as the flesh beneath knits together. He nods gratefully,   "Many thanks."  
  "It's true,"   the druid walks past Kellon and the others to go over to the orphanage door. She motions to the caretaker to open it and quietly explains the situation to her so as not to upset the children. The woman nods, her face draining in fright, and she closes and locks the door. Gweyir turns around to the group once again.

  "There's only one more left to hunt down. I don't think it went this way."  
  "It should not be able to cross the barrier along the wall. That means it must have turned north into the town somewhere,"   Ismark concludes.

 "Something I'm curious about. The barrier did not seem to stop your friend at all,"  the noblewoman's eyes fall on Sokol, standing near the back of the group and watching either side of the yard on alert. He senses eyes upon him and looks back.

 "Am not evil,"  is all Sokol can hazard to guess, with a noncommittal shrug.

 "I wonder if the barrier can tell, or if it is Saint Andral's spirit overseeing personally..."  the old priest ponders.
Prehysterical
Kellon scratches the itching feeling of the healed wound on his undershell as he considers an unpleasant possibility.  "Or perhaps the bones being displaced means that the barrier was weakened... Allowing lesser undead in, but not the old vampire himself. Er, no offense to you, shipmate,"  he offers as an apology to Sokol.

 "Now that there is only one left, it might be in our best interests to split up, scour the streets for our quarry. I have to imagine that when we find him, it will raise enough of a fuss that reinforcements will be close by. We should split into pairs with a fresh partner for all of us who have been drained." 
RandomWombat
 "No offense taken,"  Sokol responds without a worry. He pats the old priest on the shoulder.  "How about you and I keep an eye around here, ay? Make sure the other bloodsucker never comes looking for children or magic bones." 
 "Right. They are back with Father Lucian now. We must ensure the chapel does not come under attack somehow,"  Father Donavich agrees.

Some glances around and basic math make it clear to Ismark that he'll be split up from Ireena, and he folds his arms with a sour look.   "I suppose the plan makes sense... who will I go with, then?"   he asks, looking to Kellon and then to Gweyir.

 "Up to you,"  the younger Kolyana tells Kellon.  "And we should also decide where we will patrol." 
Prehysterical
The idea to leave some people behind to keep an eye on the orphanage and church never even crossed Kellon's mind, but now he's grateful that Sokol was seeing the bigger picture. Besides, the zombie's slow gait and Father Donavich's drained condition would drag them to a crawl. Ismarck's reluctance is expected, but his cooperation is welcome. Kellon thinks for a brief moment before shrugging his shoulders.

 "Ireena will go with me and you'll go with Gweyir, here. The two of us can swing to the north road and you two can keep to the central street. Maybe we can pincer the fiend like a grabby crab."  He goes on to add,  "And don't worry. If any of Strahd's lackies get to Ireena here, it will be over my dead body." 
RandomWombat
  "We should stop at the inn and ask for help while we're going down the main street,"   Gweyir tells Ismark, taking the lead and forcing him to follow after her. He looks back at Kellon and nods, with a salute of a fist to his chest.

 "That just leaves us,"  Ireena says, matching Kellon's pace towards the northern streets. Breaking off from the others at the first turn, they find themselves amidst a dense residential district. People going about their business are drawn from it to gawk at the turtle-man and noblewoman.

 "Has anyone seen a man running around in a blanket?"  she demands in a loud voice, looking at her fellow Barovians. The villagers mostly shake their head, with the exception of one man who lifts a hand.

 "I saw someone like that. Went skulking into the guardhouse, ay, he did."  The man points down the street, to their south from the intersection.
Prehysterical
Finally, their quarry is cornered... Kellon hurries to the guardhouse.
RandomWombat
Sprinting through the street, the two of them draw more attention as they approach the small, squat, stone building that is the guardhouse. It is built out of dreary, grey stone brick with a sod roof, and cobwebs in the corner of its loosely L-shaped crook. In that crook is a wooden door hanging slightly ajar.

Inside, Kellon and Ireena find two town militiamen on the ground, pale white and desiccated near a discarded blanket, with fang marks on their necks. The door further in is open, with the vampire menacing the guards inside who are in the process of stumbling to their feet from a game of cards. Kellon can hear dogs barking inside.

There is a thwong of a bow, and an arrow flies harmlessly past the vampire.  "M-monster! Vampire!"  the panicked militiaman can be heard crying out. The vampire launches into the room with frightening speed, avoiding the narrow streams of dusty sunlight streaming in through a series of barred windows on the far all and falling upon one of the guards still getting out of his chair. A claw very nearly disembowels the man, as the vampire sinks its fangs into his neck, rapidly draining his life's blood. He slumps back in his seat, dead pale, but still raggedly breathing.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Militia fires a bow at Vampire Spawn, but misses.

Vampire Spawn claws Town Guard for  8  damage, then bites him for  6  damage and  4  necrotic damage, KOing him.

It is Kellon's turn. The yellow lines show where sunlight is coming into the guard post.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Militia - 17

Vampire Spawn - 16

Kellon - 12
Ireena - 12
Guard Dog - 11
Town Guard - n1
 
Prehysterical
The corpses inside tell a grim story... one that seems to be ongoing from the screaming in the other room. Kellon bears witness to the brutal assault of the guard and springs into action. Unfortunately, he can only make it to the door, but his spear points accusingly at the vampire.  "Back away from him, beast! Heartseeker!"  His other hand fishes out a silver mirror aimed at the unconscious guard in a warding motion.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon moves and casts Guiding Bolt.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 23 ] 
Damage:  (4d6)[ 16 ]  Radiant, grants Advantage on hit

He spends a Bonus Action to cast Sanctuary on the KO'd guard.
 
RandomWombat
The brilliant spark of light flashes out and strikes the vampire in the back, causing it to recoil and spin around to face Kellon. A glimmering outline of light forms around the unconscious guard, shielding him. As Kellon stands in the door, Ireena steps up with him, laying a hand upon his shoulder.  "Beast spirit of the Bear, protect,"  she incants, and Kellon feels a surge of wild strength flowing into his tired limbs.

For all that the guards stand atremble, terrified of the monster, their faithful hounds display no fear or hesitation as they charge at the vampire, barking and snarling. They latch onto each of the creature's legs, helping to hold it still. Instilled with some confidence at the indignant vampire struggling against hounds, the guard takes up his pike from its place leaning against the chair and jabs at the vampire over top of the dogs. It slaps his weapon aside, and jerks its head around another arrow fired by the inexperienced militiaman.

Trying to get an easy meal to replenish its strength, the vampire tries to bite into the unconscious guard, but finds itself unable. Teeth bared in frustration, it swings an arm at one of the dogs, meeting only air.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Guiding Bolt upon Vampire Spawn for  16  radiant damage and marking it.
Kellon casts Sanctuary on Town Guard.
Ireena casts Enhance Ability (Constitution) on Kellon, granting  10  temp hp and Advantage on Con checks and saves while it lasts. She gives him another Combat Inspiration with her bonus action.

Guard Dog bites Vampire Spawn, hitting thanks to Advantage for  2  damage. The vampire resists being dragged to the ground.
Guard Dog bites Vampire Spawn, critically hitting for  5  damage. The vampire resists Prone again.
Town Guard attacks at reach with his pike, but misses.
Militiaman shoots Vampire Spawn, but misses.

Vampire Spawn fails to attack the Sanctuary guard, then misses a claw on the first dog.

It is now Kellon's turn.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Militia - 17

Vampire Spawn - 16

Kellon - 12
Ireena - 12
Guard Dog - 11
Town Guard - n1
 
Prehysterical
It is a strange strength that makes Kellon perk up, but he will take whatever he can get at the moment. He doesn't know what makes the dogs in this town so brave, but they prove to be the most competent of the guard in pinning the monstrosity down. Kellon blessing thankfully stops the vampire from ripping the poor guard's throat out, but that may not last for much longer. The tortle charges forward, making a sign of the Trident before stabbing at the vampire.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon attacks with the Spear of Light
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 21 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 24 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 6 ]  Piercing Magic

He uses his Bonus Action to summon a Spiritual Weapon directly behind the vampire spawn.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 11 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 22 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 8 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
Charging forward, Kellon spawns another polearm into the fight, the two weapons jabbing into the exposed vampire's chest. As he runs forward, Ireena looks around the room, at the light sweeping down onto the floor, and the vampire regaining its strength as the burns from Kellon's spell fade. Taking one hand off of her sword, she runs into the light and takes out a small, steel pocket mirror, flicking it open. She uses it to reflect a diffuse beam of sunlight at the vampire, gliding across its skin and scorching the injuries that had begun to regenerate.

The dogs keep at their work, dragging the vampire violently to the ground and gnawing upon it. Hoisting his pike upwards, the guard drives it down into the vampire, piercing shallow into its chest. Unable to get a clear shot past the table, the militiaman carefully draws back his bow and waits for the vampire to stand, before loosing his arrow. This time it makes contact, but doesn't even go deep enough to stick into the target.

Spinning around after regaining its footing, the monster swipes its claws at the two faithful hounds. One ducks under the swing, while the other yelps at a large claw slash across its side.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon attacks with the Spear of Light for  6  damage.
Kellon summons a Spiritual Weapon, which strikes for  8  damage.
Ireena takes out a pocket mirror and reflects some sunlight at the Vampire Spawn. She deals  3  radiant damage and disrupts its regeneration another round.
Guard Dog bites Vampire Spawn for  3  damage, knocking the vampire Prone.
Guard Dog bites Vampire Spawn for  3  damage.
Town Guard stabs Vampire Spawn for  3  damage.
Militiaman readies an action.

Vampire Spawn stands up, triggering the readied action for a  2  damage shot.
Vampire Spawn claws one dog for  6  damage and misses the other.

It is Kellon's turn again!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Militia - 17

Vampire Spawn - 16

Kellon - 12
Ireena - 12
Guard Dog - 11
Town Guard - n1
 
Prehysterical
In this absolute melee, it's simply too dangerous for Kellon to unleash his strongest magic. Instead, he tries to draw the vampire's attention.  "Oi! How 'bout you bare  your  neck for once, bloodsucker?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon attacks with the Spear of Light.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 14 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 14 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+6)[ 12 ]  Magic Piercing

Bonus Action for Spirit Weapon.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 7 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 6 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 6 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
Spinning around from the dogs, the vampire bats both polearms away with a backhand. But that lapse in attention is exactly what the hound needs to drag the creature to the ground again, man's faithful companion dragging the monster onto the dusty stone. Though the vampire manages to fight off the other hound, Ireena's mirror keeps him from regenerating, and his condition is growing steadily worse.

Neither of the guards are able to do much against the creature, as it kips up back to its feet and lashes out at Kellon with both claws. One of them skitters off of his shell, while the other rakes deeper and harder. Yet the enchantment upon his shell makes it stronger, and the beast does not reach soft flesh.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon and his Spiritual Weapon both miss this time.
(remember you have a Bardic Inspiration in your pocket as well, which can be spent after a roll)
Ireena gives the vamp a sun tan for  4  damage.
Guard Dog bites Vampire Spawn for a  5  damage crit, knocking it Prone again.
Guard Dog bites at Vampire Spawn, but misses.
Town Guard jabs Vampire Spawn for  1  damage.
Militiaman readies an action and shoots at Vampire Spawn when it stands, but misses.

Vampire Spawn claws Kellon, hitting once for  8  damage, eaten by his temp hp.

Kellon is up again!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Militia - 17

Vampire Spawn - 16

Kellon - 12
Ireena - 12
Guard Dog - 11
Town Guard - n1
 
Prehysterical
Like a shark going in on a seal, Kellon keeps up his assault.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Right, I forgot about the Bardic Inspiration. To be honest, I'm glad I didn't try to use it on that last round.

Attack with Spear of Light:  (1d20+6)[ 18 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 15 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 11 ]  Magic Piercing
Bardic Inspiration for damage:  (1d6)[ 1 ] 

Spiritual Weapon Spell Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 7 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 14 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 8 ]  Force
 
RandomWombat
The Spear of Light finds its mark, driving deep into the vampire's chest. The creature stands defiant, walking forward down the shaft to stare Kellon in the eye, as the dogs try to drag him back. The two guards aren't doing very well, fumbling with their weapons as Kellon finds the dwindling magic of the spell dropped. Ireena takes a deep breath and a glow of silver light surrounds the mirror as she points it into the vampire's face, causing it to flinch and recoil in a way none of their weapons can.

The creature lashes out with a claw, but Kellon twists away. The second arm however overreaches and grabs him by the face, beginning to dig claws in. His vision blurs as blood runs into his eyes, and he nearly finds himself passing out.

 "Come one guys, we need to finish this!"  Ireena shouts at the guards.

 "I'm tryin' miss, my spear don't do nothing!" 
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon strikes for  12  damage, while his spiritual weapon misses.
Ireena drops concentration on Enhance Ability to use True Strike, burning the vampire for  3  radiant damage.
Guard Dog bites Vampire Spawn for  3  damage, but the trip is resisted.
Guard Dog attempts to bite Vampire Spawn, but misses.
Town Guard attacks, but misses.
Militiaman fires, but misses.

Vampire Spawn slashes at Kellon twice, hitting once for  11 .
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Militia - 17

Vampire Spawn - 16

Kellon - 12
Ireena - 12
Guard Dog - 11
Town Guard - n1
 
Prehysterical
After everything that Kellon has been through, it is a wonder that he still stands. As it is, he's wobbling on his legs like a seasick landlubber on his first voyage. The anger in his voice is restrained by his waning energy. He fishes out his shield to fend off the vampire's blows, having to squint to see through the blood in his eyes.

 "The windows! The windows, you idiots!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon Interacts with Object to bring out his shield.
Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 9 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+4)[ 9 ]  Magic Piercing

Spiritual Weapon Attack:  (1d20+5)[ 20 ] 
Advantage:  (1d20+5)[ 19 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 4 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "I can't just chisel out the bricks!"  the guardsman calls back, on the brink of falling into a panic. The pitiful light from the windows is surely intended to demoralize the prisoners - something that is now backfiring. Kellon's stance is wobbly, and his body seems to drift to the side as he pulls the weapon free and weakly jabs past the vampire. The floating trident of force has better luck, sticking the monster and holding it for Ireena's continued focused assault of light.

Shaking off all of the attacks coming at it, the vampire's body is bleeding from gashes all over, wounds that are unable to heal hanging from it. By the end it looks more like a zombie falling off the bone, than a sophisticated and intelligent hunter of men. Then one last arrow from the militiaman pierces its skill through the temple and it falls over. Ireena keeps up the stream of sunlight until the creature falls apart into ash, then sighs and closes her pocket mirror with a metallic click of finality.

 "Last one. That is the last one, Kellon. Ah, please do not pass out, I do not think I can carry you to the inn,"  Ireena comes over, placing a hand on his shoulder and invoking the spirit of the Bear once more to fill him with enough strength his vision stops seeing double.  "There. That should be enough for the walk back." 
 "By the Lord,"  the town guard murmurs, reaching down the pet both of the dogs on the head and calm them down, while the militiaman circles the table and drops his bow onto it to check on the other guard.

 "He's still alive! Thank you!"  the man calls out to Kellon.  "But... what about the others, from outside? Are they going to become vampires?" 
 "We must burn the bodies!" 
 
 Spoiler: Kellon 
Past knowledge success on vampires tells Kellon that the Spawn cannot further spread their affliction. Only a master vampire can create new Spawn.
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon misses, but his Spiritual Trident hits for  4  damage.
Ireena uses True Strike and critically burns the vampire for  4  radiant damage.
Guard Dog misses Vampire Spawn.
Guard Dog bites Vampire Spawn for  3  damage.
Town Guard misses Vampire Spawn.
Militiaman's shot hits for  3  damage, finishing it off.
 
Prehysterical
Just when it seems like Kellon is about to become vampire fodder, the militiaman finally justifies his pay. As Ireena disposes of the vampire, Kellon leans against the wall with elbows shaking as if in fever. Sound seems fuzzy and the shadows grow longer... then he feels that strange strength again as Ireena places a hand on his shoulder. A light groan is all the answer Kellon can muster at first as he tries to shake the fog from his head.

Looking down at the pair of hounds, Kellon compliments them warmly.  "One thing I will say about you Barovians: you certainly know how to breed good dogs."  Kellon walks over to the unconscious person and places a clawtip on his forehead, using the last of his blessings. He regards the militiaman sadly.  "Sorry to say that the other two are dead as dust. The good news, though, is there is no blood hunger in their future. This was just a vampire spawn; it takes a master to raise more vampires from the dead. I am sorry for your loss. We got here as fast as we could." 

Turning to let the guards tend to their dead, Kellon begins making his way toward the door with Ireena.  "By the gods, do I need a nap... So damn tired..." 
 
 Spoiler: Cure Wounds 
 (1d8+3)[ 9 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 "I'm just happy we weren't next,"  the guardsman says with an exasperated sigh. The unconscious one jerks up with a start and a gasp as Kellon rouses him with a touch of healing, scrabbling for his pike, but the militiaman next to him holds the man still and calms him, explaining the situation.

Ireena begins helping Kellon outside. A token gesture for the most part, as if he stumbled and fell they'd likely both end up on the ground. Behind them the militiaman calls out one last time,  "Thank you, Vampire Killers!"  His voice carries awe and reverence as he speaks the title.

Outside, they can see Ismark and Gweyir running towards them from further down the main street to the east.   "Ireena! I heard it was at the guardhouse!"   Ismark calls out as he slows to a stop in front of them.

 " Was . We toasted it,"  she answers him proudly. With a sigh of relief, Ismark moves in at Kellon's opposite side to help him, and between the two of them there is actually some weight - or rather the opposite - to their effort. Kellon's sluggish body feels less like it's going to give way beneath him.  "And if those guards go on to tell their story, I think we are about to be famous tomorrow." 
  "Thank goodness that's over,"   Gweyir says, walking along with them for a bit before breaking off.   "You guys get him to the inn. I'm going to find the others and let them know the hunt is over."  
Prehysterical
Kellon is thankful that the militiaman is there to calm the roused guard. It would have been a cosmic joke if Kellon had saved the man's life only to end up spitted on a pike. He suppresses the urge to gag as they leave with the militiaman's thanks. By the Trident, he hopes that title wouldn't stick...

After Gweyir leaves, Kellon's blood-encrusted visage looks to Ireena beside him.  "Ireena... Thank you. If you hadn't been so quick on your feet with that mirror of yours, that vampire would have killed us all. You'd have made a damn fine sailor." 
RandomWombat
With a soft, confident chuckle, Ireena reminds,  "My brother and I have spent a long time planning for a confrontation with the vampire. I have a trick or two." 
  "I scarcely think sharpening a tree to a point and shoving him off a cliff would avail us, sister,"   Ismark comments back at her, across Kellon between.

 "Alright, so the mirror trick is probably my best trick. Still."  The two of them help Kellon to the Blue Water Inn and carefully up the stairs to his room. After Kellon is lowered onto the nearest bed, the two stand next to it.

  "You fought valiantly today. Get some rest. I will cover the inn fare for another night."  
Prehysterical
Sprawled out on the bed like a beached whale, Kellon looks to the pair of siblings.  "Keep an eye out for a young man named Milivoj. He's one of the orphans, the oldest of them, and he got duped into selling the relic to the undertaker. See that he's not punished too harshly. I'll be having words with him." 

He retreats within his shell, his words echoing,  "Don't wake me up unless the roof is on fire!

...On second thought, not even then. I'll crawl through the debris when I'm done." 

This realm had a tendency to wear a body out...
RandomWombat
  "I understand,"   with one final nod, Ismark and his sister step out and close the door, leaving Kellon alone in the dark of his shell, in the dimly lit room. Sleep comes easily.

It is the heavy, dreamless sleep of the exhausted, a peaceful blackness that cocoons his mind and body while they mend. He doesn't even hear the others come inside. All through the rest of the day, and through the night, he sleeps, until late next morning comes a rap-rap-rapping at his chamber door. A sound he can barely make out through the haze of half-sleep that still shrouds him.

 "Who is there?"  chirps a familiar, cheerful voice as the door opens, briefly allowing in the sound of some chatter and a waft of cooking smell from the tavern below.

 "It's Dartanya. I've brought breakfast, on the house,"  another familiar voice from outside says just the words Spider wanted to hear, and the arachnid skitters out of the way to allow the raven girl inside. She shuts the door behind her with a tap of her heel and sets a plate of bread rolls and cheese on the bedroom table, and kneels down to set a bag on the floor. Opening it up reveals a juicy hunk of meat inside, which Spider gladly chows down on.

Seeing the others still dead asleep, she takes a seat at the table and waits.
Prehysterical
A groan echoes in Kellon's shell as the knocking rouses him from his slumber. His head pokes out to see Dartanya entering with vittles, which prompts his limbs to extend and begin raising his bulk carefully off of the bed so as not to punch a hole through the frame. Kellon's complexion is its healthy green again, but his face and limbs are still covered with dried blood. He walks over to the table and gingerly sits on a chair which still groans under his weight.

 "Well, good, erm, whatever time it is to you,"  Kellon greets her as he looks over the breakfast.  "Thank ye. I'm as hungry as a whale today."  His claws wrap around a bread roll and a wedge of cheese as Kellon switches between them as he eats.  "I'm guessing you've got some sort of news?" 
RandomWombat
 "Still morning I think,"  the girl greets Kellon, lightly sliding the plate closer to him as he sits down. Gweyir and Father Donavich have begun to stir in their own beds, the latter letting out a wide yawn that soon catches on with Gweyir and Dartanya.  "Ah... yes. I've been keeping my eyes open for clues to your missing girl,"  the raven girl explains after she finishes yawning.

Sitting up in her bed, Gweyir kicks her feet over the side and into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes.   "If it were anything else I'd complain we never get a break... what's the news?"  
 "I have two potential leads. For one, I've seen a light on in the attic of the Baron's manor for most of last night and there were two silhouettes like children standing at the window. Except, Baron Vargas' only son no child anymore,"  Dartanya recites.  "And this morning, I overheard one of the town drunks saying he had a surefire way to get a good haul of fish. He was saying something about catching a 'sacrifice' for the Lake Beast. Normally I would think it an animal, but he avoided the subject whenever someone would ask him what the sacrifice was..."  she continues, breaking off a small piece of the cheese for herself.  "I don't know if it would be the girl you want, but I think  someone  is in trouble. The man has a fishing shack north of town along the shore." 
Prehysterical
The mention of Gertruda snaps Kellon instantly awake. All the talk of child abduction makes him exhale a sigh like a deathrattle as he runs one hand over his snout. Damn it, the Captain was waiting on them! There was no doubt in his mind, however, that the fisherman meant a blood sacrifice. That simply could not wait.

Kellon stands and begins stretching his limbs to undo the cramps.  "Keep an eye on the Baron if you can. That is worrisome... Speaking of which, tell me about this Lake Beast."  He has wondered what might live beneath the surface, but their travels have been far too busy to make an investigation possible.
RandomWombat
Walking over to the table, Gweyir takes a seat and picks up a roll of bread, tossing it to Father Donavich, who is still seated on his bed. He fumbles it, but it lands in his lap, cradled by his robes. Plucking a small piece of cheese and a bread roll for herself, Gweyir mentions,   "I'm not skilled enough to take on aquatic forms yet. You might be short handed if you have to fight something underwater."  
 "Tales of the Beast are as many as the varieties of the folk song,"  Dartanya explains.  "Like you outsiders, many monsters find their way to Barovia and are trapped. It is possible every tale is true, and the 'Lake Beast' is whichever happens to be the apex at the time."  The girl frowns and thinks.  "The latest tales of the Beast claim that in return for offerings and worship, it causes fish to beach themselves on the shore before the fisherman." 
Prehysterical
As Kellon listens to Dartanya's accounting, his claws begin rubbing at the trident amulet around his neck. He hums disapprovingly at the mention of tribute.  "A creature that thinks itself unto a god, demanding tribute for blessings from the water? Oh, this is more than just rescuing an innocent... Tempest Himself will demand answers from this one,"  Kellon swears. To Gweyir, Kellon assures,  "Before there be any talk of confronting the Beast, let's deal with yon fisherman and get a better idea of what we're up against." 

Standing up, Kellon gives a thankful nod to Dartanya before telling the assembled crew,  "I'll be outside communing and getting my blessings ready. After that, I'm ready to leave when you are." 
RandomWombat
 "I too must pray. I will join you outside shortly,"  Father Donavich confirms. As Kellon leaves, Gweyir falls in behind him, and Dartanya of course does as well - it being the only way down besides jumping the railing like a madman. Crawling along the wall beside them, Spider also emerges from the dim interior of the tavern into the 'bright' light of a Barovian morning.

Sokol is standing and waiting for them leaned up against his usual spot at the bottom of the stairs, and nods in greeting as they arrive. Breaking off to leave them to their business, Dartanya returns to the first floor of the tavern with a short wave farewell.  "I will continue watching,"  she confirms as she disappears from view.

In her own sort of prayer, or communion with nature, Gweyir steps away and lowers herself smoothly into a cross legged position upon the grass, weaving her fingers between the blades and closing her eyes meditatively.
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Mythweavers is currently offline, so I will set Kellon's spells later.
 

Kellon nods to Sokol and waves farewell to Dartanya.  "Thanks again."  He then goes through his meditative steps to commune with the wind spirits.
RandomWombat
Together they sit in the yard of the inn. With his eyes closed, Kellon can't see the dreary, pale imitation of Barovian day. He can't see the people on the street staring as they pass by, like he's some sideshow oddity in a seaside carnival. Just the feeling of the wind on his face, the feeling of it curling around his shell, tiny wind tunnels forming between the patterns that adorn it. For a moment, everything almost starts to make sense again.

Absent though the light of the gods be in this cursed land, Kellon still feels the strength of the divine fill him. Swelling like a thunderhead, a storm waiting to break at his command.
Prehysterical
It was hard to believe that only a week or so had passed since the storm had taken them from the sea... it already felt like a lifetime ago. How he missed the salt on the wind, the sounds of gulls flying overhead, the crash of waves and joyful warmth of the sun...

When he finally feels the power swelling within him, Kellon takes a deep breath and holds it in his shell. It's not time for the Storm to break... not yet. As Gweyir finishes her own rituals and they are joined by Father Donavich, Kellon takes a moment to bless both of them and Spider with a piece of sailcloth he has held onto from the ship.  "Maybe I should acting like we're expecting trouble and not just running into it, aye,"  he jokes at his own expense.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts  Aid  on Gweyir, Spider, and Donavich. The three of them have their current and max hit points increased by 5 for the next 8 hours.
 
RandomWombat
With preparations finished, their small company of monster hunters and lost souls gathers on the lawn. Kellon carries out the blessing of protection as they chatter amongst themselves.

 "So what is our plan, today?"  Sokol asks, standing casually at their side. His posture changes dramatically as Gweyir explains the news they'd received, his eyes becoming serious.

  "The bird girl brought us news. She's been looking for clues about Gertruda,"   the druid relays, adjusting her weapons to affix them comfortably to her belt and back. Father Donavich has fewer such preparations, merely sliding the wooden scepter into the cloth cinch of his robes.   "It sounds like some kind of abduction or blood sacrifice going on at the lakeside. So that's our first stop."  
 "Then what are we waiting for,"  the zombie's voice says, with none of its usual humor or lighthearted energy. Sokol begins striding towards the road north, clear effort to move quicker than his stiff gait can allow him.
Prehysterical
With a groan of exasperation, Kellon shoots Gweyir a look before running... well, hustling to catch up to the reinvigorated zombie.  "Now, shipmate, I'm not normally one to try and take the wind out of your sails, but there was a reason that I was keeping mum about this. Dartanya wasn't  sure  that the victim is your little girl. She just overheard a fisherman bragging about sacrificing someone to the Lake Beast. If it does turn out to be Gertruda and you two finally get reunited, great! Fantastic! But... I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel led on. I already did that once with the hags; I won't do that to you again. So... just keep your expectations tempered, all right, sailor?"  Kellon tries to pat Sokol's shoulder comfortingly.  "Whatever happens, we're with you all the way. A promise is a promise." 
RandomWombat
  "Sorry,"   Gweyir says quietly, spinning on her heel to follow them. It's not difficult for the group to catch up to Sokol, who is often the last dragging his feet behind. The dead man looks aside at Kellon, a mixture of emotions flickering across the little of his face that is visible.

 "Whoever it is, they need our help. And desperately. No?"  turning to face ahead once more, Sokol moves with purpose.  "Hags still had children, needed rescuing. Even if it is not my Gertruda... again, we will do good in her name." 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives a nod of agreement.  "Oh, aye. You know me, well enough at least. I'd never sit on my tail if there was a chance of a child getting hurt."  The tortle walks along Sokol with just as much purpose, having to actually hold himself back to avoid outpacing his undead brother-in-arms.
RandomWombat
The five carry on down the road. The street that takes them north is not as well maintained as the main road, or the residential districts. Further along, the cobblestone is as worn down and full of weeds and holes as the streets of Barovia village. The homes are likewise further apart, less congested. Along the way they pass by Wachterhaus, the home of the noble who'd offered Kellon work - but today is not the day.

At the north gate they find a single guard on duty, with two militiamen carrying bows sitting nearby playing cards using a flat stone as a table. The gates seem to be open during the day, and nobody pays them any more kind than curious stares as they go - stares, Kellon notices, which hold more awe than apprehension. Word of their deeds the day before is spreading. Vampire Killers, he sees one of the militiamen mouth to the other.

Through the shimmering light of the barrier they go, feeling a sense of security and comfort fade, one they'd never noticed until it was gone. Beyond the walls cobblestone road changes to a dirt path speckled with stones, and ironically becomes smoother and easier to traverse. Thin woods and steep hills on either side of the road give way to a dark lakeshore.
Prehysterical
Oh gods, it was already happening... If the Baron himself started calling them that, Kellon would have to bounce town. He never thought that Barovian village would be preferable, especially in a universe where Strahd existed, but it was starting to grow on him at this rate.

Kellon steels himself as they pass through the protective barrier. If they'd had time, Kellon would have been seriously tempted to check in with Father Lucian and the orphanage to make sure that everything was all right. Minutes could count for their kidnapped human sacrifice, though, so that would have to wait until they returned home.

Despite the dreariness of the outer areas and the potential for trouble, Kellon finds the open space and fresh air more to his liking. He leans over and asks Spider in a quiet voice,  "Think you can get up in the treetops and look for a little house around here, like a cottage or a shack? A child might be a prisoner in there, just like at the bad ladies' windmill." 
RandomWombat
 "I'll take a look, Kellon,"  skittering into the cluster of trees next to the road, spider ascends easily up the trunk with its many handholds. The arachnid has scaled far smoother surfaces without an issue. From a perch up above, Spider waves a leg at Kellon.  "Over here!"  Another leg points down on the other side of the trees.

Moving up, the group steps onto the 'beach'. Far from the pleasant, warm sand of the ocean beaches, the shore here is mucky and muddy, with small patches of wet grass. Ahead of them is a shoddy looking wooden shack, with a few holes in the roof that have been hastily patched with what looks and smells like fish skin. Points for creativity to the fishermen. The door has a padlock, which is currently unlocked.

Near the shack are three rowboats aligned on the shore, and an indent in the mud where a fourth must have been up until recently. Now clear of the treelines, they can also see out over the lake - clear, dark water stretched out away from them. Kellon can see the figure of a person in a boat out on the lake.
Prehysterical
If only that blasted lock wasn't there... After briefly considering the situation, Kellon decides that perhaps a different kind of subterfuge was needed. The man liked to brag, after all...

Taking out his signal whistle, the kind used by sailors in foggy conditions, Kellon blows a note of greeting to the man in the boat. The tortle gives a friendly wave and shouts to be heard by the man.  "Ahooy! Are the fish biting at all today?" 
RandomWombat
The whistle and shout cause the man on the boat to perk up, jerking to attention and causing the boat to rock. He adjusts his cap and Kellon can see him shielding his eyes to gaze upon the shore.  "Oh you thing I don' know whad your ere about? You're nod taging none of my haul, ya greedy leeches!"  the man shouts drunkenly, the sound carrying along the surface of the water as he shakes his fist.  "Get gone!" 

Keen ears wiggling a little, Gweyir speaks from beside Kellon,  "I heard something out there. It sounds like somebody trying to call out, but it's muffled." 
Prehysterical
Gweyir's words instantly worry Kellon. Whoever the captive is, they are likely bound and gagged and ready to be offered up to this Lake Beast.

His connection with the wind is not strong enough to bring the boat in, nor can he move the water. There is one thing that Kellon can do, though...

Kellon closes his eyes and prays, his hands going through divine patterns as he channels just the tiniest amount of divine power. When Kellon opens his eyes, they shine with a bright aquamarine glow like miniature suns. He speaks to the fisherman, his voice echoing across the lake like thunder.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Thaumaturgy twice on himself.
 

  "You know  nothing  of my purpose here, lake-man, but I know of  yours . You offer tribute to the Beast that lives in the lake."   Kellon stops for a moment of dramatic effect before he continues with zealous passion,   "You have forgotten the real power of the waters... and  I  am His servant! I speak of  Poseidon ! The Tempest, Lord of Storms and Waves! Kraken-Father, Ruler of the Depths, and the Eternal Trident! Not a fish swims in the water without His grace! And now you offer sacrifice to this lake-dweller, but not He Who Commands the Tides?!"  

Fully caught up in his sermon, Kellon holds up a clawed hand that clasps toward the boat.   "Bring. Me. The  tithe ...."   His glowing eyes stared unblinkingly at the man.
RandomWombat
Kellon watches from the shore as the fisherman drops his hat in the water in surprise at the tortle's booming voice. He can hear worried stammering, and the man grasps at the hat half-heartedly before pulling his hand back, reluctant to touch the surface of the water. Sitting back down in his boat, he begins rowing back to shore.

It's about a minute of drunken rowing before he finds his way back, waves bobbing his boat against the mud. There is a burlap sack in the boat next to him, squirming as a young girl's voice mumbles inside, likely gagged with a cloth. The man's face is flush with drink, his face hollow and aimless. Stumbling out of the boat and faceplanting into the mud, the drunken fisherman stands up slowly, covered all down the front, to find Sokol's sword pointed at him.

 "Open the bag,"  the zombie's words are slow, steady and deliberate. The fisherman hiccups in fear and stumbles back to the boat, his ankles in the water. Undoing the drawstring of the bag, he opens it up to reveal a girl of no older than fourteen, with long braided hair decorated with colorful beads. Her clothes are handmade and patched, in colors that Kellon has seen favored among the Vistani - reds, oranges and purples. Tears streak down her face, and a dishrag is held in her mouth by a some fishing line. Her hands are bound with the same, the thin strands cutting into her skin and leaving bloody marks.

Sokol shoves the fisherman out of the way, the man falling backwards into the shallow water and mud with a sploosh and a shlorp. Sokol quickly uses a small pocket knife to cut the girl's bonds, and she spits the rag out of her mouth.

  "Oh sweet Mother, thank the heavens and the stars!"   the girl gasps and leans back against the side of the boat with a loud sob of relief.   "Thank you, whoever you are, thank you!"  
 "You-"  the fisherman hiccups again, wiping the mud off of his face as he sits pathetically in the shallows.  "You have your tribute, great turtle beast!"  he raises his hands up and bows his head towards Kellon.  "Please- hk- please bless me with yer fish!" 

Gweyir looks down at the man in disgust, while Father Donavich helps Sokol lift the girl into dry land and check her for injuries.
Prehysterical
While Kellon is not absolutely certain that the girl is Gertruda, it seems that they showed up just in the nick of time. The very idea that someone could be so cruel and apathetic... It's like the hags all over again.

Kellon steps toward the man, his beaked face set in an expression of stone. He stops when the water from the lake pools around his ankles, looming over the fisherman like the spawn of some Leviathan of a far-off realm. In a voice as chill as a stray iceberg, Kellon asks the man,  "Tell me, Fisher Man... Is this the first time that you have offered human sacrifice in the lake?"  Before the man can properly reply, Kellon's temper gets the better of him and his ice shifts to the blazing hot fury of a volcano.  "Tell me!!! I will know if you lie!" 
RandomWombat
 "No hyumans, turdle lord! Olly the spawn've the accurssed Vistani,"  the fisherman slurs out, opening his eyes to point an accusing finger at the girl.  "Juss like the lake beast said, see?" 
 "She's alright apart from some small cuts from the fishing line,"  Father Donavich ignores the drunkard's rambling as he reports the girl's situation to Kellon, Taking out some clean cloth to wrap around her bloodied wrists.  "Thankfully no arteries cut... what is your name?"  he asks the girl softly.

  "Arabelle, Father,"   the girl answers, looking at Father Donavich's dangling holy symbol as she confirms that she is not the girl the group hoped - or feared. A fact Sokol surely already knew. The zombie is standing nearby, watching Kellon and the fisherman, sword still in hand.
Prehysterical
The tortle's heart goes out to Sokol. The girl is around the same age as Gertruda... There is no doubt murder in the man's heart and Kellon can scarce blame him. A dozen possible fitting punishments for the man run through Kellon's mind, but something in the man's words forestalls his self-righteous wrath.

 "This lake beast speaks, does it? It also sees fit to demand the nature of tribute? And passing none of the tribute onto the Tempest? Show me where you meet to treat with the beast." 
RandomWombat
 "Yesh, inna tongue of folk she shpeaks, voice like, like beautiful... voice,"  the man answers, looking up and nodding along.  "Demand Vishtani, annen fish trow emselves onna shore,"  he waves his hands emphatically along with his description, making flopping motions with his hands.

The man turns and points towards the western shore of the lake, past the boats where the girl is being tended to.  "Uh, show up when'm fishing oer there somere. Waist up, she like a perdy girl, but she all fish unnerwater,"  the man describes, before experiencing another hiccup and reaching up to adjust his hat, which he'd lost in the lake earlier.

Kellon isn't sure about the creature's nature. Merfolk, perhaps. But Gweyir's face lights up in recognition.   "I think we're dealing with a siren,"   she tells Kellon.   "I'm sure you've heard the usual tales. Songs that lure sailors to dash themselves upon reefs. They're fey, fair folk of the sea whose voices hold sway over the minds of men."  
Prehysterical
A siren? Here? This place truly was a hodgepodge... Small wonder the man was so willing to please. Was the man magically enthralled, or did simple prejudice and greed rule his heart?

Pondering as only a tortle can, Kellon's eyes suddenly widen as he remembers something. Looking down at the man, Kellon orders,  "Get your rod. You're going fishing at the siren's spot... and I will be joining you." 

While the man complies with the order, Kellon fishes through his beaten and waterlogged backpack before his eyes glint as he beholds his prize. His claws pull forth a beaten, but still intact, fishing tackle. He looks up at Gweyir with an evil satisfaction that would give Strahd himself a run for his money.  "Care to help me chum the waters? There's got to be more to a siren's appetites than drunken men..." 
RandomWombat
 "So the man was enchanted?"  Sokol asks, grimly.

With a nod, Gweyir confirms,   "It's very likely. And we should be careful going forward, I'm not sure how much your... condition protects you."   At her words, Sokol finally stows his blade away.

Spider descends from the trees and crawls over to them, while Father Donavich helps the girl up and leads her away from the water just to be safe.  "Hello!"  the arachnid greets her cheerfully, and she awkwardly lifts a hand in a wave.

 "Should I be worried as well?"  the priest asks.

  "Even Kellon could be at risk. Do you happen to have some earplugs in that tackle box of yours'?"   she asks, meeting Kellon's look thoughtfully.   "Anyways. What's the plan, we catch some fish, bloody up the water to draw her out?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head.  "Not the thing I'd think to carry around with me." 

At first, he nods and opens his beak to agree with Gweyir... only to hesitate and search his pack.  "I wonder... Do we have any more of those dried wolf steaks from Spider's leftovers? This creature seems to have a fondness for red meat." 
RandomWombat
Searching through his bags, Kellon finds the wrapped up package in question. The meat inside is desiccated, dried out into a kind of jerky by Spider draining it of its juices. 'Spider's leftovers' might not seem like an appealing meal, but it should still be edible. Especially to a creature of the feywild, who have been known to eat things mortals would find... less appetizing.

 "Pardon me,"  the young girl interrupts, as they search through their things. She rubs her bare arm, beneath the sleeve of her short-sleeved patchwork tunic.  "The fisher threw my things in his shed when he grabbed me. I have a horn I can play?" 
  "To drown out her voice... not a bad idea,"   Gweyir snaps her fingers.

Father Donavich opens up the shed and steps inside, poking around in the dim light filtering in through the door and the rickety walls. He emerges with a small bag, handing it to the girl. She withdraws a black horn covered in silver accents and mechanisms, looking a little fancy for a place like this.

Meanwhile, the fisherman wobbles drunkenly, awkwardly kneeling in the water and staring at the mud with a lost look on his face.
Prehysterical
Things seem to be coming together quite nicely... until Kellon sees that the fisherman is still kneeling in the water. He turns around and hollers at the man like a bosun.   "Are you deaf?!  I said grab your fishing rod! Get your arse moving; we are going fishing!" 

While the man complies, Kellon asks the young girl,  "What's your name, dearheart? You're among friends, here." 
RandomWombat
The man stammers and pulls himself to a wobbly standing position.  "Gah, you shee, ish in ere,"  the points inside of his boat, leaning in to pull out a wooden fishing pole, holding it in his hands and still looking a little lost.

 "Lead on to the siren's shore,"  Sokol orders the man, and he turns to shamble past them, barely sparing the girl he was about to sacrifice an idle glance. Sokol falls in behind him as he marches, and the others form a trail as they traverse the lakeside.

 "My name is Arabelle,"  the girl answers, holding her horn in both hands and walking along. Her hair is frazzled and her voice still shaky, but she carries herself tall, with a sense of pride. Clearly she doesn't want to seem weak, even if her former captor doesn't appear to care.

 "Hello Arabelle. I'm Spider. What does that do?"  easily using one leg to point at Arabelle's horn while walking, Spider cheerfully introduces itself.

 "This? It's for music,"  she answers, more at ease with the idea of a giant talking spider than anyone Kellon has met yet in Barovia.  "I'll... show you later. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves. Right?"  she looks at the others for confirmation.

Gweyir nods and introduces herself as well,   "I'm Gweyir, a druid."  
 "Most just call me Father Donavich. And this is Sokol,"  the priest nods towards the zombie, who is busy keeping an eye on their fisherman. He seems to have grown more used to the undead's presence.
Prehysterical
Kellon struggles to remember any creature he's ever seen that was more pathetic than this drunken wretch. Thankfully, Sokol manages to finally wrangle him like a concussed ram.

In response to Arabelle's question, Kellon nods.  "Not yet, at any rate. That might change when we get to our destination... I am Kellon. You already know what colors I'm flying,"  he answers wryly.
RandomWombat
 "Thanks, again. I'm not sure what else to say right now. Words kind of get away from me, right now,"  the girl says awkwardly, obviously recovering more than her proud facade lets on. She reaches down and pulls an amulet out of her bag of things, slipping it over her neck. It rests there, the round symbol displaying silver half moon upon a dark background marking the remainder of the moon out of phase.

Father Donavich's eyes are drawn to the symbol, a quiet frown painting his face.  "That is the mark of Mother Night, if I am not mistaken." 
 "Mhm. I see that look you're giving,"  the girl answers, glancing at the Morninglord's symbol worn around the Father's own neck.  "I hope you know that the ill done in the name of a god does not represent the whole of its domain."  She says knowingly, and Kellon can see Father Donavich's mouth twitch a little in thought while he avoids the girl's gaze.

The group soon arrives at a stretch of shoreline, more rocky than muddy beneath the cattails swaying along the treeline. The fisherman comes to a stop and looks back at them expectantly with a slack-jawed face.
Prehysterical
Her awkwardness is understandable, although Kellon hopes that this whole Morninglord versus Mother Night business doesn't cause them problems.

When he realizes that the fisherman is waiting on a signal, Kellon steps forward and tears the leftovers in half before handing it off to the man.  "You have your bait, angler. It is time to see what we can catch." 

Baiting his own hook, Kellon casts it into the water with a practiced swing and resigns himself to waiting.
RandomWombat
Sticking the piece of dried meat onto the hook, the fisherman heaves it back and hurls it out into the water. He sits down on the rocky shore and watches the lure bob up and down quietly. Kellon attaches his own bait and sends it out into the water.

While the two of them sit patiently waiting for something to bite, Gweyir and the others wait just past the treeline.   "So what's this Mother Night stuff about?"  
 "Many creatures of the night revere the Mother. Vampires, werewolves, to them she is a shroud from the Morninglord's light,"  Arabelle explains, holding her horn in both hands and ready to play.  "But the night is much more than just a place for predators to hide." 

The sound of water cascading off of something snaps them all to attention, and Kellon glances down the shoreline to see what looks like a human woman's upper body rising out of the water. Her long, dark hair hangs around her body, and she looks at the two fishing rods with disdain. The only things that hint at her true nature are a ring of pale scales around her waist where it meets the water, and her opaque, dark eyes like those of a shark. When she speaks, it is in accented Aquan, a language that Kellon thankfully understands.  "Truly. You come seeking for me with a  fishing hook  as if I will bite it like a common trout? I am insulted, tortle." 
Prehysterical
Any chance to interject on the philosophy of dark versus light is cut off by the snippy arrival of the siren. Kellon clacks his beak back at her, his own Aquan actually fairly decent due to his parents' teachings.  "Seeing as you seem more than happy to bite on any red meat that enters this lake o' yours, I see it as only a fair assumption! Speaking of which, I don't suppose that you have been offering any of this man's 'tributes' to you on to any of the gods, have you? Posing as a goddess to the landlubber over here..."  He thumbs toward the drunken fisherman and clucks his tongue disapprovingly, the sound actually echoing in his beak.
RandomWombat
 "My taste is more discerning than that,"  the siren answers. There is a snap of a branch as Gweyir carefully moves into a better position with her crossbow. The sea fey sinks further back into the water, staring out at them with only her head exposed as she notices the others behind Kellon.  "I see you brought landlubbers yourself." 
 "I did asya ashk,"  the fisherman gets on his knees and points into the treeline.  "Brought a Vishtana, jush like ya shay." 

The siren's black eyes are unreadable as they gaze out of the water.  "Goddess to these filthy inbred leg walkers?  No interest  to me. I seek only a way home, tortle. A way back to our great mother sea." 
Prehysterical
Distasteful as the siren's predations are, Kellon feels an odd sense of sympathy. At least he can walk around on land; the siren is bound to what is no doubt a boring existence in the lake.

Ignoring the movements of the others, Kellon asks the siren without a shred of irony,  "Why do you want the Vistani instead of the Barovians? Do they just taste better or is this some weird religious thing?" 
RandomWombat
Though her mouth softens, no longer baring her sharp shark-like teeth, the siren keeps a wary eye on the crossbow-wielding elf behind Kellon. Gweyir doesn't seem to be following their conversation, glancing at Kellon with her eyes in the hope of some signal.

 "Truth be told, the flesh of humans is not all it is reputed to be. I expect my sisters take great delight in tormenting the intruders on our ocean, more than the fruits of the hunt,"  the siren speaks candidly, in the detached and immortal fashion of the fey, without shame.  "Do you yet know, that the Vistani come and go through the Mists as they like? I thought, perhaps,"  the siren's forked tongue emerges and licks across her lipless mouth.  "If I ate enough of their flesh, I would gain some of their ability. If only for a time..."  Around her, the water shifts and ripples at the motion of a shrug beneath the surface.  "And if not, I would take one alive to question them." 
Prehysterical
His eyes still focusing on the fey, Kellon waves off Gweyir's aim with the crossbow.  "Yeah, I've seen that. I also know that the Vistani are, contrary to what the cityfolk have told you, neither friends nor servants of Strahd. Maybe their goddess Mother Night gives them a blessing..."  Kellon shrugs, the movement exaggerated in his shell.  "Couldn't tell you." 

He wants to be angry at this creature, but... there is sympathy for her, as well. Stuck here in this lake like a shark... This one needed open waters.  "So, we both have problems. We both want to get back to the ocean, but I can't let you keep eating the folks around here. How's about we strike a little bargain? When we finally manage to kill that vampiric bastard Strahd and get to go home, I will bring you with us...  if  you can restrain yourself from devouring any more folk." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+3)[ 11 ] 
Insight:  (1d20+5)[ 7 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Hesitantly, Gweyir lowers her crossbow.

Tilting her head up, the Siren eyes Kellon approvingly down her flat nose. Her face is difficult to read, so close to human and yet beneath the surface resemblance so alien. One thing is certain: like any fey, a bargain is good fun.  " Strahd ,"  the creature speaks the name with a tinge of unfamiliarity to her voice. And the name translates well in spite of her aquan accent, causing the more suspicious Barovians to cast their eyes skyward as though the name might summon him.

 "I hear of him from the fishermen. He sounds very fearsome,"  reaching the tips of her fingers out of the water, the Siren traces paths along the surface, leaving rippling trails in their wake.  "Very well, seapriest. In respect to the King of the Seas, I will heed your word and delay my plan. Give word to me, every seven moons, lest I come to believe you have died in your endeavor." 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods.  "Yep. He's the reason we're both here..." 

He reels in his line as he presses the siren for her word.  "You will hear from me every now and again. You have my word... Now then, Fey One, tell me your name and swear in sight of the Kraken-Father that you will not hunt or kill any more of the folk around the lake... and that you will not coerce such sacrifices."  Kellon gives the watery one a hard look.
RandomWombat
The Siren raises again out of the water, in order to properly bow.  "I, Cerya, swear before the King of the Seas that I shall not hunt nor compel sacrifice of the mortals of this place, for so long as you His servant stand against Strahd." 

Looking between Kellon and the Siren, Gweyir whispers,   "What's happening?"  
Prehysterical
Kellon bows likewise to the siren.  "Then may our words be kept in the foam of the waves." 

Turning to Gweyir, Kellon switches back to Common and explains,  "We have come to an understanding. She is stranded, like us. I made a bargain with her that, if she behaves herself and poses no more threat to the people here, we would take her back with us when we finally leave."  He has a sneaking suspicion that Gweyir will be less than happy with that news...
RandomWombat
With their parting words, Cerya sinks back beneath the soft waves of the Barovian lakeside, hair trailing down into the water behind her. The fisherman, Bluto, grunts and rubs his head and face as if waking up.

Kellon's expectations prove correct as Gweyir's face curls into a frown at the news. Though her face shows more understanding of Kellon's reasons than his Barovian companions.   "I hope you didn't promise her anything big. First thing they teach young druids is to be careful when dealing with the fey."  
 "This creature may have devoured other children. Are we really just letting it go?"  Father Donavich speaks up with more fervor in his voice, breaking through the quiet melancholy that oft surrounds him.

 "I agree. There must be answer to these crimes,"  Sokpl concurs.

On the matter of her wrongdoer, Arabelle remains quiet, looking off into the woods behind them instead with Spider beside her.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Passive Insight 
The Siren spoke of demanding the fisherman bring her Vistani, but mentioned nothing of children. It may be that Bluto simply found Vistani children to be the easiest targets while he was under the spell.
 
Prehysterical
Gweyir's comment prompts a look of nonplussed disapproval from Kellon. Had he not just stated the terms of the pact for her to hear? All they could really hope for is that the siren doesn't try to get cutesy and creative with the definitions of the words.

Turning to regard the Barovians, Kellon gives Father Donavich a hard look.  "Need I remind you, Father, of the reason that you're with us in the first place?"  Leaving it at that, Kellon turns his attention to Sokol.  "I'm not happy about it either, shipmate, but what would you have me do? The Fey don't think like us; they're more like sharks or wolves than people. And in case it wasn't blatantly clear, this siren is no fool. There is no way for us to catch her and she can simply swim away if we get too close. I suppose you could go for a nice walk on the bottom of the lake- well, actually in your case you  could , but then she just ignores you."  Kellon's tone softens as he understands the man's righteous indignation as a father.  "I've done all that I can, Sokol. I gave my word, in sight of my god, no less. Lightning would scorch the flesh from my bones if I broke it." 
 "As for the matter of punishment..."  Kellon gives the fisherman a cold look.  "Do you know who you are? Do you know what you've done?" 
RandomWombat
Turning alongside Kellon to face the Barovians, Gweyir nods along and backs him up.   "Fighting the siren here in her element would have been foolhardy, even if the plan to play music over her song worked. This way, at least, future danger is minimized."  

Father Donavich opens his mouth to protest, but no sound comes out, and he closes it with a frown. It takes a moment of collection before he speaks.  "To my knowledge, my son has not harmed anyone despite his condition,"  the priest says solemnly to Kellon.  "I would be remiss to fault the 'siren' for being what she is... but trespasses committed is another thing entirely." 
  "Weird point of view from your flock,"   Arabelle looks up at the priest, who looks aside, perhaps worried he'd let on too much about his son's condition.

Rather than involve himself further in any argument, Sokol simply nods.  "Do as you must."  He goes over to Bluto, who is still getting his bearings, and gently but firmly takes hold of the back of the man's collar to prevent him from fleeing. Bluto flinches away from the touch, looking at them all more like a frightened rat than a hollow-eyed ant marching to the tune of a fungal infection.

 "A- ah, well, Bluto sirs, Bluto's my name,"  the man stammers with a nervous grimace that never even evolves into a strained smile.  "I seem to have... made some mistakes while I was under the fish missy's song, hey?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon feels a little guilty about leaving Sokol high and dry, but there's still the small fry...

He stares down Bluto like a hungry shark. His tone is mocking as he answers,  "Oh, that would be a convenient story, wouldn't it? But something tells me that you were not blameless in it..." 

After a brief prayer and gesture, Kellon regards the man with a warning.  "If I catch wind of you dodging the question, the fish will be eating well today. Now... the siren only instructed you to bring her Vistani. You're the one who decided to make it easy on herself and bring her children, aren't you,"  Kellon barks accusingly.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts Zone of Truth centered on the man.
 
RandomWombat
The man's mouth opens and he coughs, clearing his throat. Sokol jostles Bluto by the collar and he swallows, wetting his throat.  "I was... I was ordered to bring a Vistana... b...but I'm. There's no way I could overpower a full grown... Vistana, you see? But... I had to do as she said. So... I did what I was able to."  The man swallows again, eyes darting at everyone around him for some sign of sympathy.

Stepping through the bushes to take stock of him, Gweyir frowns, but does give Kellon a sympathetic look. To avoid the man overhearing and butting in, she steps next to Kellon and speaks to him quietly,   "From what we've seen of the Vistani, I don't think he could have taken one. There's no doubt he chose to target a child, but his options were to obey the siren and grab someone he could or obey the siren and get his ass kicked or killed."   The druid growls.   "Mind control is always fuzzy. You need to consider if the choice is one someone would have made if their options weren't narrowed to bad and worse."  
Prehysterical
Gweyir's argument, while somewhat logical, does not impress the tortle. That was the logic of a shark, not a person. They were held to a higher standard, even if this one did not feel like he needed to meet that standard.

Looking back to Bluto, Kellon decides to hit him with the hardball.  "You don't feel sorry about it at all, do you? You Barovians think that they're all in cahoots with Strahd, anyway, so what's the harm if a few have to die so that you can live and get a nice fish harvest, eh?" 
RandomWombat
The man staggers as if physically pushed, flinching away. His mouth is set in a firm line, avoiding Kellon's gaze.  "Ain't think, outsider. That's a fact. If your fancy magic can force someone to speak true, why don't you ask her yourself?"  he points accusingly at Arabelle, who pulls herself from keeping watch over the forest to meet his accusation.  "Tha'ss why the Baron never lets them inside the walls." 

Arabelle's face dims with guilt - no, not guilt. Similar, but different. Kellon sees shame in her eyes. She steps inside the spell of her own accord to answer him. Kellon feels her accept the magic willingly.   " I  do not serve Strahd, and not all Vistani do... but... my uncle acts as his carriage driver. Bringing select guests in for Strahd,"   she admits.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Insight 
Kellon recalls Anton describing a man bringing him here via horse drawn carriage.
 
Prehysterical
Contrary to Kellon's warning, Bluto is ducking the question. That gets an angry beak clack from the tortle, but Arabelle's own self-admission gives him pause. What a terrible burden for a child... Knowing that your own blood was a delivery driver for a vampire.

But she was not on trial. Once Kellon sank his beak into something, he had a hard time letting go. Kellon stares at the man, as if trying to peel off skin and muscle and peer into his very soul.  "So, if the water maiden had insisted on Barovian children instead, you would have said 'no'? I mean, it would take a real monster like Strahd to steal away someone's children as chattel..." 
RandomWombat
Face twitching from grimace to glare, Bluto spits into the mud at his feet.  "I couldn' say 'no' no matter how. Lake Beast was in my head,"  he slaps the side of his head with an open palm in exasperation.

 "He is asking if you would feel differently if it was a Barovian child you dragged out here. Would you feel any guilt at all?"  Sokol's hard voice slaps the man upside the head again, as surely as his own palm.

 "Yes! Yes, I would! And ah, I guess if your fancy truth magic says she's no servant of the devil Strahd either... I'm glad you stopped me,"  Bluto manages to look at Arabelle once, before looking away at the water.

Tucking the wind instrument back into her bag, Arabelle heaves it over her shoulder and starts to walk back along the shore to the south.   "Let him go. Maybe he'll learn something... if you want to return to camp with me, my father might give you a reward for saving me,"   she suggests, turning away from the fisherman.

 "Ooh, reward! That sounds neat. Does your father make good food? Can we have lunch?"  Spider queries, crawling along after Arabelle like a puppy at her heel.
Prehysterical
Every one of Kellon's scales rankles at the man's callousness, but it seems all too typical of the Barovian attitude. Even the man's limp expression of regret shows his complete lack of sympathy for the souls murdered. The tortle is seriously tempted to kick the man in the rear straight to the Baron's hall and having the man judged... but what good would that do? The Baron would likely just affirm the man's sentiment and ask what the problem was.

In the end, it is Arabelle's forgiveness, the one most wronged by Bluto, that finally causes Kellon to wave off Sokol. Kellon tells Bluto,  "The law may be lenient in your case, but you have chummed your own waters. Perhaps if Poseidon has any sense of fair play, your nets will turn up empty for a while. By the way... she doesn't even like the taste of human flesh. Think on that the next time you see a Vistani and think unkindly of them." 

Unsatisfied, but knowing that it's time to cut bait, Kellon turns his shelled back on Bluto and walks after Arabelle (after making sure that Sokol doesn't decide to simply murder the man). When he catches up with the girl, Kellon waves off Arabelle's offer.  "Och, think nothing of it, lass! We didn't come out here for payment or anything. To be honest, we came out here hoping that you were someone else. No offense to you, but..."  Kellons looks back subtly at Sokol.  "Your father is not the only one who has been worried about his little girl." 
RandomWombat
Sokol looks Bluto in the eye, before releasing him and smoothing out his collar. He turn and walks away without another word to the fisherman, who stands there rubbing his neck as everyone marches away. He knows better than to hurl any last words at them.


Everyone falls into step alongside Kellon and Arabelle. He nearly walks into her when she stops and turns around to look at Sokol, following Kellon's look. Picking up on her pointed look, Gweyir asks,   "What is it? Do you know something?"   the druid asks hopefully.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Arabelle looks hesitant. But in the end she chooses to speak,   "I heard my uncle talking the other day. He said that Strahd had plans to ransom a girl for someone named Tatyana in Barovia village."  

Walking forward, Sokol has to stop himself from taking her by the shoulders to shake answers out of her. His hands shake at his sides.  "Ransom? A girl? When? When will this happen?!" 

Arabelle swallows and holds her elbow in her hand.   "Yesterday."  
 "What- then what were the terms, what will he do?"  Sokol demands, legs unsteady as he falls to his knees.

  "I'm sorry! Really, I don't know anything else. I mean it could be any girl..."  
 "Not just any girl is missing from Barovia village!"  Sokol snaps back, falling forward onto his hands.  "What do we do? What  can  we do? What if it is already too late?" 
  "We... have an invitation to Strahd's castle, don't we?"   Gweyir cuts in. She looks at Kellon.   "The one from Anton's grave."  
Prehysterical
The bottom falls out of Kellon's stomach as Arabelle reveals the true nightmare scenario. No doubt the undead bastard was cackling and fondling his canines at their failure to heed his invitation.

For a moment, Kellon merely stands there, twitching. The thunderhead finally breaks and the tortle begins screaming in unintelligible rage. He kicks rocks, snaps branches, and drags his claws through the dirt to kick up dust. After his tantrum, Kellon sits down on his tail and fumes, feeling like he swallowed some particularly bitter seaweed. His answers comes out in barks.  "Fine! Fine! Fine!  **** ,  fine! "  Taking a few deep breaths, Kellon manages to quell his anger and recover his composure. He stands back up and looks to the others, resentment clear in his voice.

 "Then we have no choice. Before we go visit that lamprey-faced son of a snake, we need to head back to town. There are a few things that need settled before we get to the carriage." 
RandomWombat
Kellon's rage is joined by Sokol, who slams a fist into the ground repeatedly, but his fury soon peters out into slumping back onto his knees. The others back away, giving them space.

 "Is this a sneaking mission?"  their arachnid companion asks, perhaps hopeful of some way to help the two, who are clearly distraught.

Crouching down, Gweyir helps Sokol back to his feet, once Kellon has calmed down and announced their destination.   "Alright. What still needs doing?"   The group begins making their way back onto the path, and towards Vallaki. Arabelle watches them go, turning away.

  "I can't go with you into town. The Baron has banned us from entering... if I can do anything to repay you, find me at the hill southwest of Vallaki,"   the girl holds up a hand and waves awkwardly, before shuffling away into the bushes alone.
Prehysterical
Kellon sighs as he answers the ever-positive Spider.  "No, lad, this is not a sneaking mission... not with the carriage."  Before he can answer Gweyir's query, Arabelle's reluctant goodbye stops him in his tracks. As the girl walks away, Kellon's tail flails behind him as he scrambles to catch her.

 "Whoa whoa, let's hold on there, lass! No one will be going alone in this country on my watch! Come with us. We have a reputation in town. People trust us. If you're with us, then they will know that you are not one of Strahd's puppets. And if the Baron has a problem with it,  he can eat my shell ."  He beseeches her,  "Come with us. You've been through enough already. Let us escort you home. We...  I  need some things done before we go marching in as Strahd's dinner guests." 
 
 Spoiler: Persuasion 
 (1d20+3)[ 8 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The girl stops, looking back at Kellon with a small, forced smile. She wipes away some of the streaks from her eyes, left from crying    "It's alright. I don't really like it in towns anyways. I'll stay close to the wall on the way back."  
  "At least let me walk you there, then,"   Gweyir insists, patting Sokol on the arm now that he's standing on his own and walking over to the girl. Looking back at Kellon, the druid gives him a nod.   "You'll be fine without me for a little bit, right? I'll make sure Arabelle gets home safe."  
Prehysterical
It breaks Kellon's heart to see a young girl cry like that. Thankfully, Gweyir's older sister instincts kick in as she volunteers. Loathe as Kellon is to split up from his shipmate, it is far preferable to leaving Arabelle alone. Kellon nods.  "I'll do you one better."  Turning and walking to Spider, Kellons asks the overly-sized arachnid,  "Spider, could you go with them? Safety in numbers and all that. Besides, maybe the Vistani will have some more of that steak you like so much." 
RandomWombat
 "Oooh, do you think so? I could really go for one!"  turning towards the two, Spider clicks its mandibles together excitedly.  "Can I? Oh, I want to hear your music too!"  The critter crawls over to them, putting a real smile on Arabelle's stressed out face. She reaches down and pats Spider on the head.

  "Sure. We love music, I'm sure there'll be lots."  

The two of them begin carrying on, and Gweyir gives Kellon one last look and a short salute before following them.

It is still daylight out, Lake Zarovich not far from the north gates of the town of Vallaki. With the girls (and Spider) off for the Vistani camp, the menfolk return along the fishing path. No fuss from the guards as they go back in, their group gradually earning a positive reputation around town. Sokol is quiet and brooding, and the pace of his storming walk could probably outpace the others if he were any faster.

 "We need a plan,"  finally breaking the silence from their walk back, Father Donavich speaks up.  "Do you think there is anyone here who would have a map of Castle Ravenloft?" 
Prehysterical
It hurts to see Spider go... Kellon has grown incredibly fond of him. Seeing the change in Arabelle's mood, however, tells him that he made the right choice.

When Donavich speaks up, Kellon scratches at his neck in thought.  "If anyone does, most likely it's either the Baron or our noble friends. Whatever needs done, I need to visit the church before sundown. I need the Father's blessing to stave off the Beast tonight." 

He pauses for a moment, hesitant to say the words aloud.  "Honestly, Father, I don't think a daring rescue and escape is in the cards. You don't live to be a real monster like Strahd without thinking of things like that. We need to seriously consider that whoever enters the castle might not be coming back..."  Kellon puts a clawed hand on the priest's shoulder.  "Your boy needs you, Donavich. If you don't come back from the castle, who is going to take him to the Abbey? It should just be Sokol and me. The less of us that Strahd is able to catch in one net, the better." 
RandomWombat
 "You may be right..."  the priest looks down at the rough, unkempt road as they walk nearer to the center of town.  "But what am I, if I allow another tragedy to pass by while I wallow in my own misery?"  Lifting his head up, Father Donavich takes a deep breath.  "I will renew the ritual of repose on my boy before we go, while you visit Father Lucian." 
 "So you plan to leave without waiting for your friend, Gweyir?"  Sokol asks, voice quiet and raspy.
Prehysterical
Kellon appreciates the man's self-sacrifice. He gives a small wave to the priest when he leaves.

It takes a few seconds for Kellon to answer Sokol's quiet question.  "...Aye. Strahd brought us here for a reason, Sokol.  Us , specifically, out of all the people in Faerun! From what I can tell, Strahd is like some twisted hunter and we are the prey that he turns loose for sport! I have no intention of serving the vampire a full meal. Let him work! Far better that only one of us dies, if it comes to that... Gweyir is a druid. She can survive in the wilds, comfortably at that. Besides, her brother is out there somewhere... and so is the Captain.

She will curse me for it, call me every single slur and swear she ever picked up on the docks... but she will be alive. That is enough." 
RandomWombat
 "Then we best be quick,"  Sokol says simply. The two of them carry on through the town, an air of melancholy and purpose around them shaking off any Barovians admiring the newly famed vampire killers.

Nothing stops their march, and they soon arrive at St. Andral's Chapel. Pushing inside the exterior door, Kellon reaches the interior door. Inside are the church regulars gathered in prayer, Father Lucian leading from the alter. He sees Kellon and Sokol peeking inside and nods to them, winding down to a place he can stop. Leaving the altar, Father Lucian steps out to join them in the coat and boot room.

 "Hello again. And thank you so much for returning the bones to me... and for cleansing the vampires from this town,"  he extends a hand and bows his head in gratitude.  "Even the people have begun to speak of you in awe instead of fear." 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods respectfully to the priest and gently shakes the man's hand with his claws.  "Glad to be of service, Father. Have you seen Milivoj since the incident? I feel sorry for the lad... The undertaker poured poison in his ear about the relic." 
RandomWombat
The priest nods with an understanding smile.  "The boy came to me on his own and confessed everything, after hearing you dealt with the vampires. I think he has a great many extra chores waiting in his future... but I'm not going to mention him to the town guard."  As he breaks the handshake, Father Lucian looks out through the exterior door to the orphanage across the street, where Milivoj must have returned to.

 "Worry not, I have the ritual of protection prepared already. I can renew our town's barrier when the time comes. Is there anything I can do to repay you?" 
Prehysterical
One less piece of misery in this land... Good.  "Well, Father, giving me another blessing to keep the Beast chained wouldn't hurt. I'm going to need it." 
RandomWombat
 "Gladly."  Stepping forward, Father Lucian places one hand on his holy symbol and the other upon Kellon's forehead. He chants, strengthening the bindings holding the Beast at bay, and Kellon can feel it squirm and struggle, testing the limits. It feels closer to the surface than it had been, something he'd scarcely noticed until now when it is pushed back down, buried deep. Its rage bubbles up through cracks, until they are mended and sealed shut once again.

As the ritual ends, Kellon exhales and sucks in a fresh breath, realizing he'd been holding it in.  "It is done. The seal should hold for another few days,"  Father Lucian steps back, folding his hands in front of him.

Through it all Sokol is quiet, waiting with the patience of a man who wants to march out and storm the castle on his lonesome.
Prehysterical
 "Thank you, Father. I wish that we could stay and chat, but we have an appointment. May the ritual bindings go smoothly." 

Excusing himself, Kellon walks out of the church with Sokol.  "Just one more stop and we will head out... I need to make sure that the children are all right."  He looks across the street at the orphanage.
RandomWombat
 "You are welcome whenever you need the strength to hold this curse at bay. Walk in the Light,"  the priest makes what must be a religious sign of parting, before going his own way to resume speaking his soothing words to the congregation.

With one thing down, he and Sokol walk across the street to the orphanage, and Kellon knocks on the door. It is soon answered by Patron Feddick, who greets them warmly.  "Good afternoon! It's good you're here, I was never able to properly reward you for keeping that monster out of the orphanage,"  the man waves them inside with a bright smile.  "And don't give me that 'I didn't ask for a reward' look. It's not money, come on in." 
Prehysterical
Kellon nods reluctantly, choosing not to argue.  "How fare the children? Is the paperwork business finally done?" 
RandomWombat
Kellon is led inside, Sokol following along behind. They enter the main room of the orphanage, where the kids all look up to see who it is. The rescuees brighten at seeing Kellon.  "Children, why don't you give Kellon what you made?"  Feddick tells them. They quickly run up, each of them grabbing a piece of paper from the table in the middle of the room and holding it up. On them are crude children's drawings, each of them portraying some number of Kellon and his various friends and allies.

Myrtle tugs on Kellon's few scraps of decorative clothing, holding up a card in her hands.  "I foun this. Wand you have it." 

Behind the array of excited children, Patron Feddick smiles and nods,  "Thanks to Master Ismark, the paperwork has been taken care of. Everything is settled." 

At the back of the orphanage, Kellon spots the familiar face of Milivoj, bearing a look of guilt, peering through a crack in a bedroom door.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon has obtained a Lesser card from Mother Night's Deck, the Paladin of the Swords suit.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Aw, you didn't have to up the reward to a Tarokka card. Kellon would have been more than happy to accept little Myrtle's drawing as thanks. 😁
 

The looks on the children's faces stir a glow in Kellon's salty heart, which blossoms into radiance as he sees their adorable little drawings. He gasps with delight and makes a show of marveling over their art.  "Wow! I think you best watch out, Feddick! We've got some budding artists in this bunch!"  Looking down at Myrtle's tugging, Kellon's eyes widen as he realizes the true nature of Myrtle's gift. How did she even find that? Ah, it didn't matter! The gesture is more than gift enough. Kellon accepts the card, plucking it up delicately with the points of his claws.  "Thank you so much, dearheart! A fine gift, make no mistake!" 

The nature of their upcoming dinner date with a monster, and their potential demise, leaves Kellon with a desire to say farewell, but how can he possibly put that on the children? Especially with all that they had been through already? He chooses instead to give each one a hug, being as gentle as his shelled form would allow. After giving them some attention, Kellon struggles to keep his composure.  "Now, Uncle Kellon's going to be out of town for a few days, all right? I need you all to be on your best behavior here!" 

When Kellon spies Milivoj's peeking look, he moves toward the young man's door. Rather than looking directly at Milivoj, however, Kellon knocks lightly on the door and looks straight ahead.  "Y'know, lad,"  Kellon speaks for Milivoj's benefit but pretends to do it through the door,  "my mother always told me that as tempting as it may be to hide in our shells when we make a mistake, we all have to face it some time. Doesn't make it any easier, but life ain't always easy now, is it? That's why it's important to surround ourselves with people who help catch our mistakes. If you don't want me to be one of those people, that's fine, but... I meant what I said about that drink." 
RandomWombat
 "They certainly do enjoy their drawing time. And recently they have all focused on one idol in particular. And his companions of course." 

Sokol, too, receives at least one picture from one of the children.  "Here you go masked hero!"  the boy says earnestly, before shyly running off. Through the dead man's mask, Kellon can sense a midst of melancholy and happiness looking upon the little drawing, no doubt thinking of his own daughter.  "Thank you, little one." 

The children from the windmill, at least, return Kellon's hug with familiar comfort. And the children echo promises to be good and eat their vegetables. Some of them trail behind while he wades his way through the crowd of children to knock at Milivoj's door.

There is the sound of someone clearing their throat on the other side of the door, and the gravedigger comes out, rubbing his arm. Kellon can see the room behind him is all the lived-in mess of a teenager's room.  "I am... really sorry for all the trouble I caused." 
Prehysterical
 "Oh, I know ye didn't mean to cause trouble,"  Kellon assures him before he hugs the adolescent, teenage awkwardness be damned.  "Bear up, son. We should all be grateful that it didn't turn out much worse... Just be a little more mindful in the future, eh?"  Breaking the hug, Kellon whispers conspiratorially to Milivoj.  "We're going to be gone for a little while. Be a good first mate and keep an eye on the little ones, will ye?" 
RandomWombat
The teenager locks up a bit at the hug, pressing his palms against Kellon's shell in embarrassment.  "Hey, come on- not in front of everyone..."  he sighs and scratches the back of his head afterwards. But there's conviction in his voice when he answers,  "Of course I'll look after them. Always do." 
Prehysterical
Kellon gives the self-conscious young man a knowing look.  "Now now, boyo, don't be getting embarrassed at showing affection. The sun always rises tomorrow, but there's not guarantee that we'll live to see it. Life is a gift, Milivoj. Don't let anyone shame you out of living it." 

Nodding farewell to the oldest orphan, Kellon makes his way to the door.  "Blessings to you and all the little ones, Feddick. Sleep well and dream of sunny days." 

When they are outside, Kellon looks to Sokol.  "That's me all taken care of. Should we head to the inn and meet up with our priest?" 
RandomWombat
The two regroup at the door, with Milivoj and the younger children waving and calling out farewells. Feddick gives them both an appreciative pat on the shoulder as they pass by him.

 "Aye. Time to do what must be done,"  Sokol agrees resolutely. The two of them walk again across the quiet Barovian town. Father Donavich awaits outside of the Blue Water Inn's sauna, holding his scepter in both hands, eyes closed in silent prayer.
Prehysterical
As they leave, Kellon waves back to the children. Gods watch over them...

When they arrive at the inn, Kellon waits respectfully until the old man's prayer is concluded.  "If you are ready, Father... it's time." 
RandomWombat
After a pause for the Father to pray, he opens his eyes and meets Kellon's with a nod. The three of them fall into step together towards the eastern gate. Knowing where they are bound for makes it feel like a march into the jaws of Hell. The Barovians around them, for the first time in a long time wearing hope on their faces, look to the vampire killers like saviors come to free them from their pain.

 "Stay safe out there, ay. Is getting dark,"  one of the guards at the east gate tells them in a friendly voice as they march out. After their late morning, the trip to the lake, and the walks across town, the sun has started to dip in the sky and the dreary faded light of day begins to give way to the night. Just the time one wants to visit the friendly neighborhood vampire lord for dinner.

The walk through the rolling hills and farmland outside of Vallaki is solemn, the silhouette of the windmill on the hill a reminder of the dangers of this land. It has already grown dark by the time they arrive in the little abandoned crossroads hamlet. Near the waysign marking the roads rests a familiar carriage of black and gold, pulled by horses streaming manes of ghastly smoke.
Prehysterical
As they soldier on, Kellon wonders if the townsfolk would be so cheerful if they knew where the trio were going... The guard's well-meaning warning only reinforces that point. If there was ever a time to be visiting that thrice-damned vampire in his own home, it definitely wasn't when night is about to fall! In his mind, though, they don't have a choice. They are already a day or two late with the invitation... There was no telling what had already happened to the girl, or what would happen if they delayed any longer...

The sight of the wagon makes Kellon's scales crawl, but it is time to put his foot into the beartrap. He climbs (albeit awkwardly) into the waiting coach.
RandomWombat
The floor of the old carriage creaks. The interior is lined with fine red carpet, and leather seats. The three climb in one at a time, doing their best to fit into the enclosed space. Kellon's bulky shell makes it difficult to sit in the seats properly, and he has to avoid bumping or jabbing anyone with his shell. It's not the most comfortable ride, despite the luxurious upholstery. It is not lit inside, and so Father Donavich recites a small incantation that lights up the head of his wooden scepter like a torch. Now seated across from the man, with time to sit and do little but look around idly, Kellon notices that the bottom of the scepter's wooden haft has been carved and whittled down to a sharp point since last they spoke. Little guess as to why.

No driver sits to pilot the carriage, and yet the horses begin to walk the moment the door is shut. They plod their way ponderously at first, then begin to pick up speed to a steady gallop. Manes of smoke stream behind from their smouldering hides, at times drifting uncomfortably into the cabin of the carriage and forcing the occupants to cough and wave the smoke away.

The road up to the great plateau is rough. Above them they can see the higher peaks upon which the foreboding castle looms in the darkness. Forests stretch below the rocky edifice upon which it rests, swirling with Mist that gives Kellon a chill as he feels it creeping through the trees like tendrils, a feeling almost as if it were creeping through the crevices of his own shell.

Through another old, abandoned checkpoint gate they pass. The wind howls through the opening, the wooden gates themselves long since gone, lost to time or to sabotage. Beyond the gates the road steepens further, leading up a narrow path.

As the party draws nearer to the castle, the weather takes a turn for the worse. Dismal rain begins to fall, becoming torrential within the hour. Lightning routinely streaks across the sky, the resultant peal of thunder causing the carriage to shudder. Yet the rain drowns out the smoking backs of the horses, sparing the passengers the petty annoyance. To any other, this weather may seem an ill omen. To Kellon, perhaps it is a sign that someone is watching over his quest after all.

At last they arrive at the peak where the trail evens out, and the horses slow their pace. From a grassy cliff, they begin to cross a stone bridge high above the misty forests below, two crumbling towers flanking it. At the other end is a smaller gatehouse, the steel portcullis raised and awaiting them.

Coming to a stop in the courtyard, the carriage's door opens on its own and the trio steps out. Thick, cold fog swirls in this courtyard. Sporadic flashes of lightning lance the weeping clouds overhead as thunder continues to shake the ground. Through the rain that quiets to a drizzle, Kellon sees torch flames fluttering on each side of the keep's open main doors. Warm light spills out of the entrance,
flooding the courtyard. High above the entrance is a round window with shards of broken glass lodged in its iron frame. To their right is an old gallows. Stone gargoyles rest upon the corner parapets of the castle, uncannily lifelike yet perfectly still, stone scythes resting upon their shoulders that Kellon can't tell are part of the statue or not.

Before them is a humanoid figure with sharp ears, long dark hair, and ashen skin. A formal coat of black, blue and gold hangs around his shoulders, the collar lined with a white wolf's fur. A thin, polite smile sits upon the elvish-looking man's lips. Father Donavich looks at the figure warily, while Sokol steps forward.  "Are you Strahd?" 

The smile doesn't break or waver as the man's eyes draw down and then back up, assessing the trio coldly. Kellon notices that the rain seems to part around him, his clothes and hair completely dry. When he opens his mouth, his voice is smooth and light,  "I am Rahadin, chamberlain of Castle Ravenloft. Please refrain from referring to my liege in such...  informal  tones,"  the elf turns, arms folded behind his back and coat flipping in the wind to settle back down behind him.  "Please follow me."  He begins to walk inside.
Prehysterical
The lack of a driver confuses Kellon. He had thought that Arabelle's uncle would be the driver. Did Strahd have more than one wagon? Their ride makes Kellon long for a ship's deck in choppy waves, such is his discomfort! His eyes do not miss Donavich's improvised stake. Kellon can only assume that desperation or a sense of helplessness has provoked the old man into such a gesture. Only the familiar pounding of rain and cracking of thunder provide comfort provide any comfort for the caged tortle.

Castle Ravenloft is every bit as foreboding as Kellon feared, right down to the unflinchingly uncheerful servant greeting them at the door (though, ironically, the thunder is the least concerning). Kellon wonders if the elf was forcibly changed by Strahd or if he was a traitor to the dusk elves. As Rahadin bids them to enter, Kellon only gives Sokol a wary look before silently following behind the servant.
RandomWombat
The ornate outer doors of the castle hang open, flanked by fluttering torches in iron sconces. Twenty feet inside the castle is a second set of doors. The stone floor is decorated with a long-since faded set of heraldry, depicting a bird - likely a raven. Overhead, in the vaulted entry foyer, four statues of dragons glare down, their eyes flickering in the torchlight. Rahadin opens the second set of doors, revealing the grand hall, where the sound of an  organ playing  can be heard echoing through the halls.

Cobwebs stretch between the columns that support the vaulted ceiling of a great, dusty hall dimly lit by more torches in iron sconces that cast red firelight into the room. The torches conjure odd shadows across the faces of eight stone gargoyles squatting motionlessly on the rim of the domed ceiling. Cracked and faded ceiling frescoes are covered by decay.

Double doors of bronze stand closed to the east. To the north, a wide staircase climbs into darkness. A
lit hallway to the south contains another set of bronze doors, through which can be heard the sad and majestic organ tones rebounding off of the stonework. Rahadin steps over to a small hallway across from them.

 "The master awaits in the dining hall, but your arrival was not at the expected time... and so, I must go to inform the cooks to make preparations. Please step inside and enjoy the music while you wait,"  he bows and swings an arm towards the bronze doors, before descending some stairs below and leaving the three unsupervised.
Prehysterical
Strahd's lair is every bit as decrepit and soaked in shadow as Kellon had imagined. After Rahadin excuses himself, Kellon looks at the other two significantly.  "Do I even have to say anything about meals served in a vampire's castle?"  Facing the bronze doors, Kellon resigns himself with a sigh. Gallivanting through the castle unsupervised would do more ill than good. He pushes them upon, expecting to look upon the source of the organ's music... and the castle's master.
RandomWombat
To the east, where Rahadin vanished, an arched hallway stretches for twenty feet, ending at a spiral staircase that goes up and down. Next to the hallway, a suit of armor, oiled and glistening, stands at attention in a shallow alcove. To the west, large double doors hang slightly open, and a steady bright light escapes through the opening. Swells of organ music come from behind the doors, spilling their melody of power and defeat into the hall. Kellon's claws clack against the bronze as he pushes the door open.

Three enormous crystal chandeliers brilliantly illuminate this magnificent chamber. Pillars of stone stand against dull white marble walls, supporting the ceiling. In the center of the room, a long, heavy table is covered with a fine white satin cloth. Places are set for each of the three with fine, delicate china and silver, as well as two places at the table unaccounted for - and of course Strahd's own tall, elegant chair at the end of the table opposite the door. At each place is a crystal goblet filled with an amber liquid with a delicate, tantalizing fragrance beneath which lurks a barely detectable scent of alcohol.

At the center of the far west wall, between floor-to-ceiling mirrors and sculptures of writhing souls reaching out to heaven for salvation, stands a massive organ. Its pipes blare out a thunderous melody that speaks in its tone of greatness and despair. Seated at the organ, facing away from Kellon, a single caped figure pounds the keys in raptured ecstasy.

The figure suddenly stops, and as a deep silence falls over the dining hall, it slowly turns toward them. The figure of a man, deceptively ordinary aside from the royal countenance of his long red cape and fine garb. A receding hairline of dark, black hair is combed back smoothly.   "My honored guest. At last you make your appearance,"   remaining seated at the organ, Strahd (presumably) holds out his hands to either side, palm up and open.

  "It is rare to have one so exotic here in my castle, so I do hope the music is to your liking. Do you have any requests?"   turning casually around in his seat, the vampire stretches his arms and shakes his sleeves back out of his way, resting his hands silently upon the keys in expectation.   "Go ahead, request anything - in my years, I have learned a long repertoire."  

Beside Kellon on either side, Sokol's hands clench into fists, and Father Donavich stares across the room with an unintelligible expression.
Prehysterical
Every tale that Kellon had ever heard of vampires (minus the sea-faring ones) runs through his head as he enters the spider's parlor. The elegant finery, the dreary music and decoration, the mask of nobility over a heart colder than that of a shark... Kellon begins to feel like a worm on a hook as the master of the castle himself turns to greet him. Was this truly how Strahd looked, or did some dark magic cater to his vanity?

For a brief moment, Kellon debates telling the vampire to stuff that entire organ down his gullet. He decides against it, however. Much as he is loathe to play along with Strahd's dinner plans, Sokol's daughter would be the first recipient of the wretched man's displeasure. Kellon places a steadying hand on Sokol's shoulder and forces himself to keep an even voice as he proposes,  "Don't suppose you've ever heard of  Heart of the Locker ?" 
RandomWombat
Fluidly, Strahd's fingers fall to the keys, the beginning of the mournful melody.   "Ah, a classic,"   the vampire declares in what sounds like approval. He soon falls into the music again, swaying with his hands as they work. He appears willfully oblivious to the three of them, boldly leaving his back exposed.

Carefully, Father Donavich steps inside and takes one of the chairs nearest to the door, clearly prepared for something to go wrong. Sokol's movement is more forced, barely constraining himself for the sake of his daughter's safety. The chair he pulls back across from Donavich grinds audibly across the floor. If the vampire cares, he does not show it, nor does it disrupt his performance upon the organ.
Prehysterical
Kellon wonders if Strahd even understands how comparable he is to the heartless captain in the song... Fortunately, everyone is playing it cool for now. Kellon moves to the seat of the guest of honor, directly opposite from Strahd's chair. If he does make any noise, it's due to awkwardness rather than deliberate scraping. The castle finery is not designed for one of his shape or size.

They were in the spider's web now... No, actually, Spider's web sounded infinitely more appealing than the chum-infested waters of the dining room. All they could do was play along.
RandomWombat
Taking a seat, Kellon awaits the inevitable shoe to drop. But Strahd does not seem keen on breaking this charade just yet, merely continuing to play. While they sit and listen to the music, there is another creak from the hinges of the door, in Kellon's blindspot where he cannot turn his head very easily to look past his shell. But Sokol's hands grip the edge of the table, as two more people round them on either side to take the two other places set at the table.

 "Gertruda? Gertruda, is that you?!"  Sokol asks in barely a whisper as a girl wearing a fine gothic dress passes his chair to take a seat. To the trio's relief, her skin is flush and healthy, and she looks at Sokol with a confused expression.

 "Yes. Do I... know you?"  she questions warily. With her being so young when he vanished, and his voice grown so ragged in undeath, the lack of recognition on her face is not odd. But it does cause Sokol to sink down into his chair in some mixture of relief, despair, and fear of startling the girl.

Meanwhile, the figure rounding the table on the other side, and the voice that greets Kellon, is just as troubling.  "Kellon. It's good to see you well."  The friendly greeting of Anton Burrel. Stepping up to the seat next to Father Donavich, he slides in. A pale pallor coats his face, and a gleaming redness in his eyes that was not there before tell everything that must be told of who is responsible for his 'resurrection'.
Prehysterical
It takes an effort of will not to heave a huge sigh of relief. Kellon had suffered dark imaginings of an enthralled Gertruda during the coach ride up. For whatever reason, Strahd's fangs had spared the girl.

Of course, it turns out that instead Kellon's darkest nightmares are brought back in a false semblance of life. How much of Anton Burrel the scholar is still behind those eyes is anyone's guess. Kellon suppresses a displeased hiss and clacks his beak shut to bite down a sarcastic retort. After a moment of forced calm, Kellon simply responds,  "Sorry about the arm, lad. The house didn't exactly leave us much choice about staying or leaving." 
RandomWombat
Looking down at a light blue cape draped over the stub of his arm, Anton pats the shoulder with his hand.  "Twas, at least, not my dominant hand. And a cantrip serves just as well."  With a small twist of his fingers, a glowing blue hand manifests in front of him and picks up the wine glass before him, from which he takes a drink in demonstration.

 "My sincere thanks for dragging me out of that place. And please, do take the time to hear out the master of the castle, won't you?"  the scholar asks with a smile, setting down a glass surely filled with a vintage of more than just wine.

 "And what does the  master  have to say? Why is my daughter here in your castle?"  Sokol demands angrily, pounding a fist into the table. Gertruda jumps a little, then her eyes go wide.

 "Daughter? You don't mean..." 

A single misplayed note resounds, and Strahd sits still at the organ, letting it howl out and drown whatever simmering might be left, before slowly lifting up his finger and letting the sound die out like a gasping breath.

  "There is no need for slamming of fists."  

Standing up from the organ, Strahd turns and walks regally to the table to join them at last, drawing back his tall gilded chair and taking his seat. With one hand, he motions to Gertruda next to him.   "I'm certain you've heard all manner of terrible things of me. But I was taking a ride through the countryside, when I happened upon this poor girl lost and alone in the woods. And instead of... whatever it is you expect I've done, my guest whose name I do not yet know, I brought her safely to my castle."   He meets Sokol's withering gaze with an easy calm.

  "Indeed, she has been given use of the royal bedchambers - which I do not use, for it was the dominion of my mother and my father, rest their souls. And she has been provided with finer foods than she has ever seen in your quaint little village-"  
 "The village to which you ransom her,"  Sokol cuts him off, and the vampire pauses.  "My name is Sokol Sokolov. And I have come to return my daughter home." 

Remaining still, with one arm held up, Strahd casts an appraising gaze between his three guests.   "By my right as King, I may take any woman I wish to be mine. So Lady Gertruda will remain here, and receive an education, and be lavished with finery until she comes of age, whereupon I shall make her mine. Unless... that is..."   the vampire curls a hand around his wine glass casually, even as Sokol's fetid claws carve grooves into the wood of the table.   "Tatyana. Is. Returned. To.  Me ."   He takes a drink of his wine.   "Do that... and you may take dear Gertuda back to your little dirt hovels, however much she may not wish to."  
Prehysterical
Anton's smile makes Kellon's blood run even colder than usual. Said blood warms and heats simultaneously when Sokol loses his temper and demands an answer. As expected, Strahd is displeased with the outburst, but there is not the hissing of bared fangs and clash of thunder that Kellon expects. True to his reputation, Strahd maintains a cool demeanor masking his monstrousness.

Kellon is not fooled at all by Strahd's assertions of good intentions. Did Strahd really think that a fisherman by necessity wouldn't recognize bait when he sees it? Only a stone wall of expression meets the vampire's inquiry for a name. The tortle throws a quick glance Gertruda's way, after her father reveals his identity, to witness her reaction. When Strahd finally delivers his ultimatum, Kellon's restraint is tested to its absolute limit. His loose-fitting chair turns into a blessing as he surges to his feet, letting out a guttural hiss like that of a primordial reptile. Kellon glares at the vampire lord as his clawtips clutch at the fine wood, both out of anger and to keep himself from launching over the table. His blood is up like wind-blown sails, burning as hot as the scorching ocean sun.

The gall! The sheer  gall ! Baron, king, drown it all! The thought of this young girl being groomed into a vampire bride has Kellon fuming like a stirring volcano. A veritable litany of curses and insults worthy of a pirate's guidebook surges through his mind like a tidal wave, his beak grinding as Kellon struggles to keep the vitriol from bursting forth like a leak in a ship's hull. While he could not contain his initial outburst, Kellon has just enough sense left over to know that his words might damn more than just himself. Struggling to regain his composure, Kellon releases his death grip from the table and settles for clutching his claws into loose fists. The forced nasal sigh is more worthy of a breaching whale than a turtle-man containing a tantrum.

When he finally gains control of his tongue, Kellon answers in a calm but terse voice that does not disguise its heat.  "Why do you keep calling her that? It's not her name and, if she somehow hasn't made herself  abundantly  clear, all the finery in this castle isn't payment enough for your cold bed!"  His chitinous beak snaps derisively.
RandomWombat
Witnessing Kellon's reaction, Strahd at first maintains a perfect poker face. Then a glimmer of a smirk forms at the corner of his mouth, taking satisfaction at the tortle halted mid-rage by hesitation. Even Father Donavich stares at the vampire with a mixture of apprehension and dim embers of determination he is trying internally to stoke.

Gertruda looks at the man claiming to be her father uncertainly.  "Papa? If that's you... where did you go, papa?"  The girl asks, in and accusatory voice. She holds her hands together against her chest, tears forming in her eyes.

 "Gertruda, I..."  Sokol hesitates as well, to reveal to his daughter what he really is.  "Some bad people, they lock me away. My friend her rescued me, and I came home to find you gone. Your mother and I, we are sick with worry..." 

The girl shakes her head, long hair flying.  "I'm not going back there! Like a bird in a little wooden cage... I'm going to be like in the stories, papa. A little peasant girl sponsored by a noble knight." 


Leaving the two to their own discussion, Strahd answers Kellon confidently.   "She is Tatyana. Though she may not know it, she is mine - her soul is mine. My wife. My star-crossed love."   The man closes his eyes wistfully and raises the goblet to his lips, but this time does not drink. Merely feels the metal against his cold lips.   "She will remember, in time."  

Placing the goblet back in its place, Strahd opens his eyes once more.   "Though I wish more than anything for Tatyana's return, that is not why I sent for you. Ah-"   the door behind Kellon opens, Rahadin and two walking suits of armor carrying in several trays of food to lay upon the table.   "Perfect timing, my faithful servant. Nothing lubricates diplomacy quite like good food. Please, eat - whatever you may think of me, the food is safe. I have my pride as a host."  

In front of Kellon, Donavich and Gertruda, an array of cooked ham, bundles of fried batter with what smells like cheese and crab meat inside, spiced potatoes, and small desert cakes is set out. In front of Anton is placed a rare steak, still bloody, which he begins cutting into with a steak knife. And before Sokol is a strange mushy gruel. The host himself does not partake. Kellon can see Sokol eying the substance strangely, a bit of drool wetting his face scarf in spite of himself.
Prehysterical
That smug snake... He doesn't even the decency to be offended! What stings far worse, however, is seeing that Gertruda's welcome to her returned father is even colder than his walking corpse. Worst of all, there was nothing at all he could say to change her mind, not with her "beloved knight" standing right there.

Strahd remains cryptic as he refuses to elaborate on any potential history he has had with his "wife". Kellon blinks as Strahd dismisses her retrieval in favor of another matter. What could he possibly mean?

The food does smell really good... but Kellon would rather starve than take an easy meal from this tyrant. He crosses his arms defiantly and leaves his plate undisturbed. Like any good vampire hunter, Kellon decides to go right for the heart of the matter.  "Why bother with all this charade, Strahd? 'Tis no secret that you only bring outsiders in to kill them. Are you just that bored?" 
RandomWombat
Seemingly just as dumbstruck as Kellon, Sokol pushes his plate away and looks down at his lap, to avoid looking at his daughter, or at the strange and macabre meal placed before him. Father Donavich looks at Kellon, and seems to decide to follow his lead, leaning back in his chair and ignoring the food.

Neither Gertruda nor Anton seem so inclined, digging in happily. If Strahd is offended by the refusal to eat, he makes no mention or showing.   "Bring outsiders to kill them?"   the vampire asks, chuckling as though the notion were absurd.   "I suppose in a roundabout way, it benefits my people when they do die... but no, I do not bring them here to  kill  them."   One hand waves in the air, dismissing the notion.

  "Most of them are my lapdogs' business, not mine. Sometimes I send out invitations for intellectual conversation, sometimes consorts, and on rare occasions such as this - a matter of succession!"   with a grand sweeping gesture, he takes a drink of his tainted wine.

 "What is that supposed to mean?"  Father Donavich asks, though a tense face of silent anger.

  "Exactly what I said, Father. For the time has come that Tatyana again is of the right age, a perfect picture of herself. And when we wed, my curse will at long last be broken. But to leave Barovia without a Lord? Folly,"   he explains, smile wide and toothy.   "The land would soon vanish, and all within would go with it. Not much room for a life with my darling, should our little world end, is there? No. Another would need to take my place, become the Darklord, and with it become the land."   A familiar phrase rings in Kellon's ears, from the Durst mansion.

  He is the ancient. He is the land.  
  "For this purpose, I select particularly worthy individuals who happen into my realm. And you, shelled one, are such an individual,"   with a hand, Strahd reaches out towards Kellon.   "Or so I believe. However, the transfer of power is a process that requires many difficult to acquire components. And therein lies my test of worthiness: their acquisition."  

The vampire pauses for a moment, as if to gauge Kellon's interest.
Prehysterical
Despite Strahd's dismissal of his accusation, Kellon remains suspicious. The tale of the wizard's failed rebellion is still fresh in his mind. He is flummoxed, however, when Strahd reveals his desire to abdicate. A terrible picture begins to paint itself in Kellon's mind as the word "again" echoes in his ears. How many "Tatyanas" had there been over the years? And why was it necessary for there to be a Lord over this land? What sort of cosmic jest was that?

Kellon's claws hold up and ward off the vampire's offer before clutching at the beginnings of a headache.  "I don't understand... How does that work? What does a title have to do with the existence of an entire realm? How does one  become  the land? One might as well become the sea or the stars!" 
RandomWombat
  "This plane we're in is... complicated,"   Strahd begins, seeming quite pleased not to have received an immediate refusal.   "Isn't that right, Mr. Burrel?"  
 "Quite so. I've had the opportunity to read some of King Strahd's books, and the nature of this place is quite fascinating. Much like some realms are morphic - reacting to those within, and especially pliable to magic - this one reacts to the 'Darklord' that rules it."  The scholar sets down his fork and knife, dabbing at his chin as he takes a pause from his bloody rare steak to explain.

  "And yet they do not control everything. Just as you cannot fully control when you feel hungry, or when your eyes get dry. I cannot wave my hand and cause you to spontaneously combust,"   the vampire jests, making a wave of his hand and then laughing as he adds the conditional,   "Not without the  usual  magic, in any case."   Adjusting his position in his seat, he continues.   "We are in a place that is part place, and part soul. A reflection of myself, hungry... shrouded in clouds... lonely,"   there is a hint of sorrow in his voice, real human sorrow. Or a very skilled approximation.   "And it is no easy task to tame one's nature, is it? Particularly when it is ensnared in a curse..."  

Kellon feels for a moment like Strahd's eyes are looking deep within him, and he feels the beast snarl and snap its jaws, the 'Wolf God' meeting the vampire's gaze through the connection of his lycanthropy.
Prehysterical
A realm that responded to the mental state of its ruler? No wonder this entire place was so twisted! It was literally a reflection of its dark sovereign!

Kellon himself bristles at Strahd's acknowledgement of his condition, though for a different reason than the Wolf.  "There is more to fighting a curse than simply not succumbing.

I still don't understand. You like being king of this realm, so why give that up? And Tatyana is of age 'again'? How can that happen more than once?" 
RandomWombat
  "Perhaps if you bring Tatyana to me, I will do you both the benefit of a full explanation,"   the vampire answers dryly. His mouth forms a flat line, some of the novelty of the conversation perhaps wearing off.   "Now, as I was saying, before we got sidetracked... the acquisition. We shall need three trophies taken from great Evils throughout Barovia-"   he stops and waves a hand in the air.   "Well. Technically great Goods would work just fine. But not so easy to find, and I imagine less appealing to hunt, yes?"  
 "Of course, if you do not wish to pursue this power, you could support me instead,"  Anton speaks up, smiling at Kellon.  "There is more than one candidate, naturally. Our host was kind enough to offer me one more chance at this little competition after my untimely end. With the power of this place, a fortress no army could invade- I could use it to free my world, Kellon." 
Prehysterical
Kellon is silent for a long moment, his stomach turning over when Anton announces his desire to compete whether Kellon does or not. The tips of his claws drum against the wooden surface of the table as his mind turns over which is the greater evil. He reluctantly speaks.

 "All right, Strahd, I'll play along. What manner of fish are we to catch?" 
RandomWombat
Father Donavich looks between Kellon and Sokol, trying to gauge the two on their attitudes towards this quest. Sokolov, however, has pushed the plate away from himself and is staring at the tablecloth, turning over the silverware and looking deep in thought, his mouth set in a frown. Provoking or defying Strahd openly is likely furthest from his mind, with his daughter in the line of fire. Father Donavich lets out a breath of resignation, loosening his grip on the wooden scepter in his hands.

Kellon's acquiescence, however, brings a good mood back to the vampire's face.   "Well, as I hear it, you've already succeeded in slaying two of the Bonegrinder Coven. A trifling evil on their lonesome, hags, but the three Heartstones together could serve as one of the necessary trophies. Why don't you start by hunting down the missing piece of the set, hm? I'm sure no one here will complain about this land being free of their influence?"   Holding up his hands, the vampire looks around at the other faces at the table.   "Wonderful. As for the rest, I'm sure you'll find quarry for your quest in abundance in Barovia. Enjoy your meal, if you wish, then away - my carriage shall carry you safely back down the slopes."  

Recalling the Heartstones, Kellon knows that Father Donavich has one, and Ismark is carrying a second. The third hag escaped, her location unknown. But vengeance no doubt on her mind - she may save Kellon the trouble of hunting her, if left alone. But what damage could she wreak in the meantime?
Prehysterical
Kellon nods in agreement.  "For once, we are on the same page."  He decides to omit the part where Strahd knew that his own citizens were being preyed upon and did nothing. This "Darklord" needed to abdicate at the earliest possibly opportunity...

He pointedly pushes his chair backward to signal his interest in the conversation is over.  "Then away shall I go."  If nothing should stop him, Kellon begins making his way back to the entrance.
RandomWombat
Pushing out their chairs, Kellon's companions follow behind him. Sokol stops to look back at Gertruda one last time, fists clenched at his sides while she dines on the food Strahd has laid out for her. The vampire folds his hands in front of him and taps his foot against the stone floor.   "Gertruda. Your father came all this way to see you. The least you could offer is a goodbye."  

The girl stops and puts her fork down, staring at the plate for a moment before glancing up.  "Goodbye, father... safe travels." 
 "I will be back."  Sokol at last pulls his eyes away and walks out of the door.

 "Fare well, Kellon. I quite hope prejudices have not soured things between us. I shall see you on the trail of our quarries, my friend!"  Anton calls behind as they leave. Turning from the dining hall door, they follow the path back outside.

 "I have prepared your carriage,"  Rahadin's voice speaks beside them as they leave the keep, startling them. He appears to have vanished from the dining hall at some point, the carriage now facing the opposite direction before them, spectral horses prepared to ferry them out the gates.
Prehysterical
As much as hearing Anton's farewell rankles Kellon, he cannot begin to imagine how Sokol must feel in that moment. She simply didn't understand that he was stolen away, not a deadbeat...

After the initial spook of Rahadin's appearance, Kellon continues on to the carriage without much acknowledgement. Strangely, the carriage seems like a refuge at this point, an escape from this horrid den of undeath.

Once they are inside and afforded the privacy of a closed door, Kellon places a claw on Sokol's shoulder and looks him in the eye in shared misery. All Kellon can muster is a crestfallen apology.  "...I'm sorry."  Determination firms his voice as he continues,  "But we are not done yet. Strahd was right about that." 
RandomWombat
Outside, the sky is still pouring rain, the thunder since quelled. Once they are all on board, the carriage begins at a trot down the hill, at a steady pace to avoid being overrun by the wagon rolling behind it, and to avoid a deadly mounting momentum.

Tensing up at the contact, Sokol slowly lets the tension fall.  "We are to do the vampire's chores, then?"  He looks down at his gloved hands and flexes his fingers.  "What do we do about Ireena? It is clear that he will not rest until she is his."  And that Sokol's daughter will not be returned until she is his. The zombie does not seem keen on betraying Ireena's trust, however.  "Need a plan to get Gertruda out of that place..." 
 "Not an easy task. The castle may be old and crumbling, but its position makes it practically impossible to sneak into or besiege." 

Outside of the window not long after they return to flat ground, Kellon sees two figures walking along the side of the road, a huge spider and an elven woman. Gweyir makes eye contact through the wet windows as they go by and gives Kellon an upset looking gesture with both arms, but they are soon well past them, the druid and spider turning around to follow behind.
Prehysterical
 "As I told the bloodsucker, I will  play along  for the moment,"  Kellon assures him with emphasis.  "I have no intention of turning Ireena into vampire chattel. If I had said that aloud to Strahd's face, however, he might have done something to your daughter to get his point across. We have to patient and wait for our opening. Sharks don't bite on the first pass. Strahd was right about one thing, though. I'll be all too happy to put an end to the Bonegrinder coven. Was going to do it anyway." 

As they pass, Kellon looks outside and is surprised to see Gweyir so far up the road... but not at all surprised about the expression on her face. Turning to the others, the tall tortle suddenly looks bashful as his neck retreats slightly into his shell.  "You might want to start walking to town when we stop. I've got a major shell chewing coming my way." 
RandomWombat
While the sight of the tortle retreating into his shell might have been amusing on another day, stirred a chuckle from even the usually somber Father Donavich. But today, not even Sokol can muster more than a nod of agreement.

 "There is much to plan. Meet us at the inn to reconvene, yes?"  As the carriage comes to a stop in the abandoned hamlet, Father Donavich steps out and looks around, still on guard for some ambush that never comes. The guard doesn't fade as he begins trudging towards town. It is dark beneath the storm still pouring rain from on high, and Barovia in the dark is no place to be unwary.

Sokol walks along beside him, his stiff walk looking even more pitiful with his clothes drenched.


After waiting for them to catch up, Kellon can see Gweyir and Spider coming around the corner of one of the worn down old huts. The druid marches towards him, her hood up in a vain effort to keep her head dry.   "What in the goddamn was that, Kellon? Vanish without a word to go chase vampires?"  
 "We were super worried!"  spider pipes up, waving his front legs around for emphasis.
Prehysterical
 "Aye, I'll met you there."  Kellon watches them go longingly. Sure, he could put off his conversation with Gweyir, but one never outpaddles a storm.

He gives the tiniest wince as Gweyir her frustration and hurt.  "Chase vampires, nothing! I suspected Strahd's invitation to be a trap, so I went with Donavich and Sokol to see if Gertruda was even alive. She is, thankfully, but she is convinced that the old bat is her 'dark knight'."  Even with scales, the thought is enough to make Kellon's skin crawl.  "I thought that Strahd brought us here for sport, to kill us, so I needed you to stay alive to find the captain should the brine take me. Of course I knew you would want to come along, and  of course  I knew you'd get mad at me for going without you! We ignored Strahd's invitation the first time, so I was worried that Fangface would take it out on Sokol's girl if we waited a second longer." 

Kellon crosses his arms indignantly.  "So go on, let me have it. Tell me it was a stupid idea. Let's hear your best sailor swearing!"  His beak clacks grumpily.
RandomWombat
Crossing the ground between them, Gweyir looks ready to give him a slap if it wasn't more likely to hurt her hand than his face.   "Oh yeah. It's definitely a trap, so we'll go in  without letting our backup know what's going on , you big idiot,"   she chastises, her voice harsh but her words not quite as vulgar as many sailors Kellon has known. Perhaps even now trying to be a good influence for the less-angry looking arachnid beside her. At least, Kellon's pretty sure Spider doesn't look angry. As far as he can tell the lad's never looked angry before, so who's to say what it looks like.

  "You're damn right it was a stupid idea. We could have... snuck in, or something. Got Gertruda out of there,"   though she's still frustrated and angry, the cold wet of the pouring rain and the lack of ideas for her to spit out into a continual rant slows Gweyir's roll.   "... Gertruda's alive, then? And the vampire let you go? Why?"   She reaches up and grabs onto Kellon's face, pulling his head out of the shell to look at his face and eyes.   "You don't look any paler than normal... can a werewolf even  be  a vampire?"  
 "I heard sneaking. Are we going on a sneaking mission?"  Spider asks excitedly, bouncing from one set of legs to the other.
Prehysterical
Kellon shakes his head, water droplets flying off the end of his snout.  "Sneak up there? We're talking about the man who managed to dig Anton up from his grave  with magic ... Oh, Anton is now a vampire, by the way,"  he adds with forced nonchalance.  "There's no way that Strahd doesn't have some means of keeping an eye on his own castle, not with the kind of magic that he has access to. I'm sure it's not the first time someone has come up with that idea." 

He sighs as Gweyir examines his neck, though the exasperation is not directed at her. Kellon certainly doesn't blame her for checking.  "Yes, like I said, Gertruda is alive and fascinated with her new 'king'. He fully intends to take her as a bride when she comes of age."  He pauses for a moment to let that sink in.  "He let us go because he wants two things: Ireena and a successor. I have no intention of handing her over, but we need to do something to keep the old bat occupied while we figure out a plan. It seems like he is tired of being the 'Darklord' of this realm and wants to retire. I volunteered, but only because the thought of Anton becoming Darklord is even worse. He wants us to hunt down three great Evils in this land. The first one we already have a head start on with the Bonegrinder coven. We need to hunt down the last hag sister and get her heartstone. While we're about that... we'll have to think of something." 
RandomWombat
  "Anton..."   Gweyir's face droops at the news of the scholar's 'resurrection'.

Peering up with eight beady little eyes at each of them, Spider looks between the two.  "What does that mean? Does that mean Anton is alive-but-not-alive like Sokol now? Why is that sad?" 
  "It means Anton is under the control of the bad guys now, Spider,"   brushing some wet hair out of her face and tucking it back into her hood, Gweyir sighs.   "But, if we can find a way to get Donavich's son back, we can fix Anton too. Right?"   she adds optimistically.   "Now, all this Darklord business aside-"   it's clear the idea of Kellon volunteering isn't any more comforting than vamp-ton taking over,   "What's our plan to catch the last hag?"  

Beginning to walk down the trail to Vallaki, she thinks the question over herself.   "Hags are actually pretty weak without a coven, at least compared to normal. They can't use their strongest magic. And if a hag can't find other hags, they sometimes use mortal witches and female warlocks as coven members."  
Prehysterical
 "I don't know,"  Kellon vents as he throws his hands up helplessly.  "Remember that Donavich's son was bound and an easy kill. You saw how difficult mere vampire spawn are to kill. Now, imagine a full one that is also a wizard."  That thought only twisted the knife further; Kellon knows that Anton could become very dangerous with Strahd as a master.

Walking alongside her, Kellon answers,  "Strahd himself pointed out that she would likely come to us, in time. Probably after she gets some help from other witches. We could hunting for her, but we'd just be stumbling through the brush in territory that she knows very well. And besides... like I said, all this is about playing along for Gertruda's sake. That hag needs to die, but it doesn't need to be right this minute. The longer we can keep Strahd waiting, the better off everyone will be." 

Kellon gives her a very serious look.  "So, in the spirit of making that pompous parasite wait, what say we finally go get the Captain? I told him to expect us within a few days. I don't want him wandering by himself looking for us. Kresk-  Krezk?- is also close to the Abbey, so we can take Donavich's son there and see if they can help with my lycanthropy." 
RandomWombat
Soaked and sullen thoroughly in body and soul, Gweyir listens to Kellon's ideas and plans as they walk the muddy dirt road back to Vallaki. By the time they finally return to town, darkness has fallen over the land, and the rainstorm blocks out the moonlight leaving everything in pitch darkness. Sokol and Father Donavich are waiting outside the gates for them to arrive.

One of the two gate guards on duty raises his lantern to look out at them.  "Normally not allowed to open gates after dark. But will make exception for the vampire killers,"  he says in admiration, unlocking the gate's heavy padlock and opening it just enough for them to squeeze inside, before quickly closing it and locking it once more. Water pours down, tinging against his broad-rimmed helmet as he tips it to them good night.

  "Alright. So we stay one more night, then pack up our things and leave for Krezk in the morning?"   Gweyir asks while the group, once again reunited, walks down the main street. Between the nighttime hours and the heavy rain, no one is outside and the streets are theirs' alone.

 "I believe tomorrow is going to be the festival,"  Father Donavich observes, looking at all the drenched paper lanterns.

 "I've never been to a festival. What's that? Is it neat? Can we go?"  Spider chirps.
Prehysterical
While the rain is cold and dark, Kellon takes it over that itching feeling of the Mist creeping in. He feels touched when he sees Father Donavich and Sokol waiting at the gate for them. How long had they been standing in the rain?

Kellon nods back gratefully to the guard as the gate closes. He is about to confirm Gweyir's question when Donavich's reminder has him pause for thought. For once, the gears turning in Kellon's mind stop him from addressing Spider's question. Turning to Sokol, Kellon asks significantly,  "We should probably go see if those people are still stuck in the stockades, eh?" 
RandomWombat
  "Stockades?"   Gweyir asks, raising her eyebrows.   "I never ran into any."  
 "In the town square,"  explains Father Donavich,  "Just off the main road ahead, past the park. They hold events there, as well as any public judgement for crimes." 
 "The Baron has people locked in them, for being 'mood killers',"  there is no sardonic humor that normally accompanies Sokol's disgust, his fury against Strahd seeping through and bleeding into other things. He looks towards the street the square is down, as they arrive at the intersection.

  "That's tyrannical!"   the druid protests.

 "How do you kill a mood, Gweyir?"  Spider asks, prodding at her heel with one of its legs. She squats down and does her best to explain.

  "It means you bring up something bad when people are happy. But here what it  really  means is that somebody disagreed with the Baron and he wanted a lie to punish them for it."  
 "Oh, well that doesn't sound nice at all! Can we help them?" 

Crossing his arms, Father Donavich sighs and cuts in.  "I sense this going towards trouble. The laws they broke may be unfair, but they are the Baron's laws- no, I am not making excuses for him. Do not give me that look, let me finish,"  he interrupts voicing his concerns to cut Gweyir off from doing the same.  "Say we release these people from the stockades. Your reputation with the town guard may help you avoid reprisal, but it could blow back on those very people when  we  are not here to protect them." 
Prehysterical
Kellon glares at Donavich for his own part.  "And just what is 'just' about leaving those people in the rain to possibly catch pneumonia? There are  children  in those stocks, damn it,"  he rages.

Rainwater drips off the end of his snout as he looks in the direction of the stockades.  "You are right about one thing... If we let them out, the Baron could just as easily order them put back in."  He looks to his elven shipmate and suggests,  "Gweyir, see if they need any food or water. It's about time that I paid the Baron a personal visit." 
RandomWombat
 "A better plan,"  the tired old priest agrees, slowly breathing out in relief.  "You have a reputation as a vampire slayer now. Use it, and maybe you can sway him." 
  "Alright. But if he doesn't let them out, maybe we should bust 'em out anyways and offer to bring them with us to Krezk,"   taking her waterskin, Gweyir shakes it, the container nearly empty after the walk up and down the hill.   "I'll refill at the Blue Water and then go to the square. It's just down this road right?"   She asks, looking over at Father Donavich. He nods, and she trots off towards the inn, leaving the boys to their business.

The way to the Baron's home takes them through the town square anyways. The children seem to have been released early, perhaps someone making an impassioned plea finally got through the Baron's egotistical skull when it began to rain. But two men and a woman are still stuck up there, visible exhausted with their humiliating donkey masks soaked in rain water.

A pair of guards is keeping watch over the town square from the cover of a market stall's tarp, playing a game of liar's dice to pass the time on the graveyard shift.


South through the square, they follow the street around to the Burgomaster's mansion. It is as tired and worn as the last time they were here, and Father Donavich steps forward to rap the round brass knocker against the wooden door. It makes a resounding bang, and what sounds like a large dog barks deeply on the other side. There is a pause before the dog barks again, and they wait. It seems like no one might answer, then a peeking slot opens up in the door and a woman's eyes look out. She rubs one from tiredness and squints at them in the dark of the doorstep, raising a candle in a holder up to try and see them in the light.

 "Father?"  she asks, recognizing the glint of the holy symbol around Donavich's neck.

 "Pardon the late intrusion miss, but the vampire slayers have urgent business to discuss with the Baron,"  he greets her diplomatically. She looks past him at the large, looming shape of Kellon's shadow, unmistakable for anything human.

 "... I'll see if he-"  her words are broken by a yawn, which catches on. Father Donavich yawns in turn, and even spider stretches its legs and fangs in a similar motion.  "Sorry. Come in, out of the rain. I'll see if he will see you." 

She unlocks the door and opens it. Inside is the entrance hall. Framed portraits adorn the walls of this grand foyer, which features a wide staircase with a sculpted railing. A long, carpeted hall attached to the foyer stretches almost the length of the mansion and has several doors leading away from it, including one at the far end. Bundles of tinder and firewood are heaped against the walls, more than usual for a household to store. Beside the door is a dog bed in front of a closet door, where a large guard dog eyes the group. He barks again when he sees Spider, but the maid shushes him.  "The parlor is just over there,"  she points at the door to their left, opposite the dog and the closet.

The parlor contains a fine array of furnishings and draperies, with an overall feminine touch. Several comfortable chairs sit around a nice wooden table, with a couple extra chairs tucked away in the corners. The maid quickly brings them some towels (perhaps more for her floors than for them, since they will simply be soaked again the moment they step out) and then makes her wait up the wide staircase to the second floor.
Prehysterical
Kellon is seriously tempted by both options, but fleeing the city into unknown territory... in the midst of a thunderstorm... with civilians... seems like a particularly reckless idea. He would just have to put the thumbscrews to this Baron if he proves difficult. Thankfully, some sense has prevailed and the children are nowhere to be seen.

For some reason, he is surprised when a woman comes to greet them. Kellon should have known better. The Baron likely has a whole staff of servants to cater to his whims. The tortle's beak gapes wide as he joins in the yawnfest.

The overstocking of firewood puzzles him greatly. Is it simply so perilous to be a lumberjack in these lands that wood was harvested all in one go? Kellon decides to spare the house furniture of his burdensome weight and simply sits on a towel on the floor. While they wait, Kellon beckons his favorite arachnid over for a whispered conversation.

 "Boyo, do you remember when you went to the big spinny thing and spied on those nasty ladies? The ones who had the children? Would you be willing to do something like that again?" 
RandomWombat
 "Oh boy, sneaking missions are super neat! I can do it, put me in coach!"  somehow managing to sound as excitable as ever while still murmuring in only a whisper, Spider raises two of its legs upwards in excitement.  "Where do you want me to sneak to?" 

The others take seats around the parlor table, drying themselves off some with the towels first to avoid getting the chairs completely soaked.  "I hope this doesn't make me spongy like a floater,"  Sokol mutters to himself, feeling at his arms with his hands to check their consistency.
Prehysterical
Patting his little friend affectionately on the head (cephalothorax?), Kellon explains,  "Our bird lady friend said that she saw two children in the window up at the very top of this place, but none live here. Later tonight, when the rain stops, I want you to go up there and take a look." 

Kellon winces with sympathy at Sokol's worry. The tortle has seen a few floaters in his time, the smell of bloated gas and rotting flesh turning a man's stomach as it bumps against the bow.  "We can ask if we can go somewhere there is a fire. You can pretend to have sniffles or something."  Yes, that would actually be fitting for the nature of their visit.
RandomWombat
 "Okay, Kellon. I'll look for the children,"  Spider agrees, crawling back out into the entryway. The dog raises its hackles and its ears perk up, but Spider operates the doorknob with a pair of limbs in a way that would surely be terrifying for anyone who didn't notice the arachnid to witness. After Spider goes back out into the rain (which doesn't seem to bother it much) and closes the door behind it, the dog flumps back down onto its bed.

 "Ay, drying by the fire may help. Maybe I will mummify myself sometime to get rid of the smell." 

After a few minutes, an old and grey man walks down the stairs accompanied by the maid from earlier. He's wearing a hastily donned breastplate over his house robe, and the groggy face of one who's just been woken from their beauty sleep. At his side is a rapier in it sheath, slid into the belt of his house robe. And at his heel is another large guard dog. In spite of his apparent precautions and tiredness, he forces a smile.  "Good evening, guests. I am Baron Vargas Vallakovich. You have some urgent business with me?"  his tone is patient, perhaps due to their reputation, but it's clear he'd like to get it over with quickly and get back to bed.
Prehysterical
Before Kellon can form the words to stop Spider, the little rogue is already at the door. He watches, dumbfounded, as Spider leaves without any regard for the showering rain outside. One can only hope that the Baron doesn't see him...

Somehow, the Baron's feeble attempt to arm himself is even less impressive than simply appearing in his nightclothes. Pompous milksop! Kellon stands, though he does try to keep his claws on the towel below him. Looking down at the Baron, Kellon replies,  "I am Kellon, son of Stega and Tuga. I'll make this quick for you, Baron. I don't know what happened with those people out in the stocks, but I doubt that their crime was worthy of catching pneumonia from being out in the rain all night. Have you ever heard what that sounds like? It's like a man drowning in his own body. Possibly deadly, even!

I think you made your point quite clearly. Why don't you let those people go so that they can at least get to a fire and get warmth in their bones and lungs?" 
 
 Spoiler: Persuasion 
 (1d20+3)[ 15 ] 
 
RandomWombat
The Baron's lips purse in disdain when he hears this is another plea for the stockade prisoners.  "Their dissident behavior towards our town's acclaimed festivals may seem innocuous spoil-sportedness, but broken unity and morale can be as deadly as a sharpened blade,"  he raises up a finger, pacing back and forth a little. His eyes flicker to the walls and other door ways as if he thinks he might be watched.  "Still... their sentence was not death."  The man grumbles to himself a little before relenting- at least in part,  "Fine. Let the guards at the town square take them to the guardhouse for now and give them something to warm up. They can finish the rest of their sentence when the storm passes." 
 "Speaking of warming up, have you got a hearth I could dry off by?"  Sokol asks. Leaning away from him a little, the Baron shields his nose.

 "I- when was the last time you had a bath, man?" 
 "A bath, sir?"  the zombie answers with sarcasm the Baron doesn't seem to pick up on.

 "Nnevermind. Miss, let him warm up by the hearth in the kitchen  and clean up well after he's finished ,"  he instructs his maid. She leads Sokol out of the room, and the Baron resumes standing in the doorway with his hands folded in front of him.  "Did you require anything else, Vampire Killer?" 
Prehysterical
This fat landlubber was going to lecture him about unity and morale? Kellon clenches his claws into fists to keep them from wrapping around the Baron's multiple chins. The man finally sees reason, thank the gods, but not enough. At the very least, Kellon has brought them some relief to their knees and the chance for some warmth.

While Sokol has a chance to dry off, a thought occurs to Kellon... The Baron may soon regret his question.  "Yes. I have noticed that the orphanage is getting rather full here in town and that the children are running short on beds. Patron Feddick and the other caretakers could do with a little help. Bedding, clothes, access to good food for the little ones.

After what some of those children have been through, they deserve to have some sanctuary." 
RandomWombat
Holding a hand to his chin, the Baron scratches at his thin grey beard stubble.  "Are they? Very well. I will commission some new beds and hold a clothing drive at the festival, where citizens will be encouraged to donate their old or ill fitting clothes to the orphans in need."  Lowering his hand, he folds it with the other behind his back once again. It might seem that he forgot the matter of food until he adds,  "I hear tell you cleared out the old windmill on the hill outside of town. On young Kolyanovich's advice, I have already made arrangements to have it torn down and a new one built in its place. Having a better source of bread will improve the food situation for the entire town, orphans included. I'll see to it the orphanage is allotted some of the mill's production at no charge once it opens." 

There is a thumping sound from upstairs. The Baron ignores it.
Prehysterical
For once, Kellon is pleasantly surprised by the Baron's cooperative response.  "Tell your builders to take care, Baron. One of the hag daughters is still alive and sore from our confrontation. She'll be looking for her pound of flesh and I have a feeling she doesn't care where it comes from."  Ismarck actually changed his mind and took his advice? Huh. Kellon would have to speak with him at some point. The tortle nods, visibly pleased at the Baron's pledge of free food for the children.

Looking up at the noise and back to the Baron, Kellon snarks,  "Got some big shiprats in this place of yours, Baron?" 
RandomWombat
Brow furrowed and lips pursed, the Baron considers Kellon's warning.  "Would you be willing to hunt down this last hag for a fee? I would not invite disaster by provoking her wrath, but if the Vampire Killer were to..."  he stops as the banging starts and looks bitterly up at the stairs.

 "Bah. Probably just my son messing around in the attic. Now, I would like to get back to bed, if you'd please. Very big festival day coming up." 
 
 Spoiler: Kellon Insight/Perception 
The Baron is irritated by something, but there is also a hint of worry in his expression. The attic is also two stories up, while the banging sounds like it's coming from the second floor.
 
Prehysterical
Even without the knowledge of the building's height compared to the noise, Kellon scowls as the Baron lies openly to his face. It takes a long moment before Kellon finally relents, albeit reluctantly.  "...Fine. I'll get out of your hair. Just know that I would hunt down the hag for free. The countryside will be better off when that evil is put to bed. Come along, Father. Let's fetch Sokol and inform the guard about the new orders." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Sorry for the delay. Found myself hosting family this past week.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
It's cool. Between adjusting sleep schedule to new job and other stuff I've been pretty tuckered out myself.
 


The Baron nods and begins ascending the stairs once more.  "Petunia! Give them some umbrellas for this weather."  His maid sees them out, offering them each an umbrella. They are all a simple, dark blue. Not eager to get soaked again, Sokol accepts the gift gladly, as does Father Donavich.

 "Thank you. Sorry for the bother, and good night,"  the Father bids the maid farewell with a nod of the head. He smiles tiredly and curtsies.

 "It's alright. And,"  she chews at her inner cheek, debating whether to say something, then adds before they step outside:  "Recently the butler Maximillian and the other maid, my sister Violet, went missing. I know it's a long shot but could you keep an eye out?" 
 "Of course. Can you give a description of them?"  the old priest pauses to listen to her woes. Sokol looks back as well.

 "Max is very tall, and has dark hair. Violet's hair is much brighter and she's just a little shorter than me, with a mole on her left cheek here,"  Petunia points at her face. Father Donavich nods and pats her on the shoulder.

 "I will keep watch for them. Now get some rest, alright?" 

After she sees them out and locks the door behind them, they reunite with Spider who crawls down the wall from above.  "Hello,"  he whispers conspiratorially.  "There's a lot of dead cats upstairs. Dry dry bones." 
Prehysterical
Kellon gently waves off the offer of an umbrella. He stops when Petunia explains the absence of her coworkers. Barovia seemed to have an awful habit of disappearing people... For once, he is content to let Father Donavich do the talking. Outside, Spider's report arouses confused suspicion. There'd been no evidence of any cats in the house, only dogs...

 "Strange... Let's go find Gweyir and then you can tell us about what you saw."  If Kellon has to guess, Gweyir would be either talking to the guards or tending to the prisoners. Either way, he would need to speak to both of them.
RandomWombat
Together, they begin another trek through the rainy Barovian night. In spite of the storm clouds - or perhaps because of, in Kellon's case - the sky looks unusually beautiful tonight. It is something that often goes overlooked, but here on Vallaki the Saint's barrier seems to give the sky a more natural hue compared to the eerie un-light of the rest of the realm; and the cloud cover hides away the Beast's full moon, dampening the thing coiled in Kellon's gut.

They find their way once more to the stockades. Gweyir is staring down the guards, the strands of hair hanging out of her hood on either side of her face soaked with rain. The guards under their roof occasionally look awkwardly over at her beneath their overhang, then look away. Both are finally relieved from her gaze when Kellon and the others return, and she walks over to see them.   "So? Did you talk to the Baron?"   she asks, eagerly.

On the stage, a mystical bonfire has been erected against the cold, helping to warm the chilled villagers shivering in the stocks. The water from above does not seem to quell the druidic flames, and the soaked wood prevents the fire from spreading into a true blaze, making it an elegant solution.
Prehysterical
As much as Kellon would love to simply sit and enjoy the rain, there's too much to be done. He eyes the bonfire approvingly before waving greetings at Gweyir.  "Indeed, we did... and more besides. I'll fill you in later."  Squelching past Gweyir, Kellon glowers at the two guards.  "I've just spoken with the Baron. The prisoners are to be taken inside, warmed up by a fire, and fed. I can help carry if that will save us a trip." 
RandomWombat
  "Alright,"   Gweyir turns and eyes the guards as Kellon stares them down. The two men stand with a grunt and step hesitantly out into the rain which patters loudly off of their metal kettle-shaped helmets with a ting-ting-ting as it comes down.

 "Alright. Let's get this over with,"  one says, rolling his shoulders. They unbind the prisoners from the stockades and the soaking wet and exhausted citizens slump to the ground, pathetically. One of the guards helps one of the men stand, while Gweyir steps in to help the woman - to avoid the menfolk accidentally or otherwise putting a hand anywhere they oughtn't. The last man Kellon assists in walking, as the second guard leads them towards the guardhouse and the rest of Kellon's companions bringing up the rear.

It is a long walk, and probably unpleasant for everyone else, but walking in the rain feels soothing as it washes away Kellon's anxieties from the day.


Eventually they track water and mud into the guard post from before. There are a different pair of guards on shift tonight, and no militiaman, but the guard dogs immediately recognize Kellon. They both stop barking when they see him and one of them walks over, wagging its tail.

 "Got three for the cells. Gotta get them blankets and something to eat and drink,"  the free walking guard tells the two on shift.

One of them groans, his kettle helmet over his eyes and his chair leaned back against the wall.  "You do it. You're already wet." 
 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception/Insight 
He hadn't noticed the last time he was here given the extenuating circumstances, but there are no prisoners in the guard post (besides the new ones). He recalls the woman from the chapel, whose son was supposedly arrested and being held here for insulting the Baron.
 
Prehysterical
Bah, city-dwellers... So used to having a roof over their heads and moaning whenever water drops on them. Kellon tells the wretchedly soaked man,  "Steady on, I've got you."  Wanderer that he is, Kellon feels a flighting fancy to remain here in Vallaki to feel the clean rains and be free of the foul Mist.

An unexpected smile curls his beak as the dogs recognize him from earlier. Kellon leans over the more curious hound and gives it a delicate scratch behind the ears with a claw tip. He snorts at the laziness of the cell guards, then remembers the old woman's request from the chapel. Handing off the sodden man, Kellon asks the sitting guards,  "Say, there was a prisoner here a while ago. A young man who insulted the baron. Whatever happened to him?" 
RandomWombat
The guards bicker back and forth about who has to go on the errand briefly, as the prisoners are led into the cells. Rubbing his forehead, Father Donavich walks over to one of the guardhouse guards and places a hand on his shoulder.  "By the Morninglord man, stop grumbling and get these people blankets and some hot food." 

Being chastised by the man of the cloth seems to do the trick, and with a groan the lazy guard gets up from the chair, stretching his back and reluctantly stepping out into the storm. The other sits up in his chair and tilts up his helmet to present a modicum more professionalism. The guard dog has no such concerns, rubbing into Kellon's petting eagerly.

 "That guy? Izek took him off somewhere. He's the captain of the guard, stays in the baron's place, kinda their bodyguard too,"  the man says, leaning on the table sleepily. The guards from outside walk back out towards the door after depositing their charges and using some cloth to dry them off.
Prehysterical
Once again, Kellon is grateful for the cleric's ability to move the Barovians to action when he cannot.

A sinking feeling drops in Kellon's gut upon hearing the news.  "...Really? How long ago was that?" 
RandomWombat
 "Not long after he was brought in. Told us the Baron had already ruled on his sentence,"  the guard answers, too tired to be anything but forthcoming to an ally of Vallaki.

  "What's the usual punishment for  upsetting  the Baron?"   Gweyir asks, looking at the cold people huddled in the cell.   "I didn't see him up there with the rest."  
 "Depends on his mood. The guy insulted the Baron pretty soundly in front of a lot of people, really ticked him off. Could be flogged, or exiled... flogged  then  exiled,"  the tired guard speculates.
Prehysterical
The more Kelllon hears, the less he likes. It was useless wishing for the past to be different, but it sure would have been convenient to know that  before  visiting the Baron! Surely, at this hour, the maid would not answer the door twice.

With a sigh, Kellon turns toward the door.  "Well, we better be off. No telling when this storm will pass."  As he left, he gave Gweyir a look that told her that he had more to say outside of earshot of the guards.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Can we get a sticky for the town map in the OOC thread? That way, we don't have to have it up in roll20 to know what is where in Vallaki.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Will do, added Barovia Village's map as well.
 


Leaving the care of the 'dissidents' to the newly motivated guards, Kellon and his party venture back out into the dark, wet streets. The stony pavement glistens in the light of Father Donavich's scepter, which he lights up once more to help them see through the night's gloom.

Rather than stand around outside the guardhouse, Father Donavich begins walking east down the main street, in the direction of the Blue Water Inn - and most other places they may like to go.   "So,"   Gweyir says while they walk,   "You were giving me a look. Plotting something?"   she asks, flashing Kellon a raised brow.
Prehysterical
Kellon nods in confirmation.  "Aye, though not anything I'd breathe here on the streets in earshot of the Baron's toadies. We need somewhere more private." 

Given that time may not be on the missing man's side, Kellon finds the delay distasteful, but fat lot of good it would do to be stuck in a jail cell because the Baron couldn't handle a little criticism. The group makes their way up the staircase to the entrance to their quarters, skipping the allure of hot food and warm tables on the main floor. Once he is dry, Kellon relays the bad news.

 "Our Baron has been keeping secrets... and it's not your usual political side ventures. Spider says that the upper story of the Baron's house is strewn with cat bones, but the Baron denies ever possessing one. Furthermore, there was a thumping noise up above that he absolutely did not want to acknowledge. If I hadn't been negotiating the prisoners' release, I would have pressed him on it, but I knew they would have suffered for my questioning. Then there's the matter of our little raven's mention of the child-like figures and the captain of the guard living with the Baron and making people disappear... Lass, something is  very  wrong with that place. Nothing new to us, I know, but it can't be ignored.

I need you to use your druidic wildshaping to sneak into the upper floors of the manor and find out what the bloody Hells is going on in there. You'd be able to sense any magic there that Spider might have missed, for I have no doubt that there is something beyond normal happening there. I'm asking you because, well..."  The tortle gestures toward his bulky shelled mass.  "Not exactly built for stealth, am I. So, what do you say, shipmate? Up for a little nighttime reconnaissance to stick it to our good old friend, the Baron?" 
RandomWombat
The quiet warmth of the late night tavern below seeps up through the floorboards as their group settles into the inn room, the others setting aside wet extra layers of clothing. Father Donavich sends for towels, which one of the serving girls (though not Tanya this time) delivers. At this time of night even the drunks have gone to sleep, with only a few late night regulars present and a skeleton crew staffing it.

They dry themselves off, and Gweyir uses one of the towels to dry Spider off, the arachnid leaning into the motion and rubbing back and forth against the towel. She breathes steadily out of her nose as she listens to Kellon's list of the Baron's suspicious activities.   "Cat bones? We could try asking around about missing cats, but-"   Kellon speaks her own thoughts on the importance of timely action, and she nods in agreement.

 "That sounds like the workshop of a novice necromancer,"  Father Donavich comments, sounding tired both physically and mentally after the long day.

 "Or aspiring serial killer,"  Sokol adds.

Amid the gloomy faces, Spider chirps hopefully,  "Maybe the Baron is just a messy eater!" 
  "City people don't usually eat cats. They keep cats around to eat the mice."  
 "Well if they do not want their mice, I will take them." 

Chuckling lightly at Spider's strange view of things, Gweyir kicks off her boots and pulls her legs up on the bed, tossing the towel she'd been using to try Spider off over the footboard.   "Sure. I can go do some poking around. Just give me a minute to rest my legs."   She stretches and looks at the pouring rain outside of the window. Taking out a few leftover bits of dried food, she munches on them as she works up the inertia to go back outside.

Eventually she manages to get her boots back on and give Kellon a salute, before heading out. Kellon and the boys are left behind, in the late night inn. Father Donavich does not seem keen on sleeping with the wonder of what Gweyir will find hanging over them, but at a reminder from Sokol that the zombie will be up all night the priest relents and gets some rest. Curled up in the upper corner of the room where a growing cobweb has formed, Spider sleeps like a baby.


 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Added Gweyir's stats and currently prepared spells to the  How to play a Spider  document.
 


The backyard of the Burgomaster's mansion is occupied by a small personal garden, where patches of cabbages and rows of small fruit trees sit opposite a small walking path to the back door. Gweyir walks the path, rain soaking through her hood and wet strands of hair hanging out on either side of her face.

Cracks and holes line the outer walls of the house. Those that would peek through to the interior have been plastered over from the inside, but a stick or tip of a sword with malicious intent could easily bust through the seal and create a hole for a small animal to fit into.
 
Prehysterical
Despite Sokol's advice, Kellon cannot bring himself to rest. After all, he was the one who had requested her to go in on her own. If he could not be there with her physically, then he would in spirit. In the meantime, Kellon takes the opportunity to get some food in him. All this running around has him feeling a little malnourished...
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Seeing the patchwork repairing, Gweyir decides not to press her luck with her weapons. Instead, she grabs a stick from the nearby shrubbery and starts working on creating an entrance for herself.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
I just realized... Are Gweyir's spells based off of Maori or Hawaiian?
 

 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Google translated Hawaiian, roughly related to the spell name or function. Anton's were similar, but mainly with Latin, and the only named spell incantation Donavich has right now is Sunlight Spears for his Scorching Ray.
 


Retrieving a stick from among the nearby bushes, the noise drowned in the pouring rain, Gweyir brings it to the wall and crouches down. She slides it in and jabs at the plaster patchjob, until it is busted open. She flicks it to and fro against the sides, pushing away the broken plaster.

The hole is small, but a tiny animal could pass through.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
After a moment's consideration, Gweyir decides that a spider form might be best for her. She prefers being a cat, but the ability to climb on ceilings and walls might be more important than smell.

Her clothes and weapons disappear into her new eight-legged form as she squirms her way through the newly opened breach in the manor wall.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Transforming into the form of a small, hairy tarantula, Gweyir crawls inside through the newly made gap. Inside, she shakes herself like a dog to throw off the now rather huge water droplets that splattered her shell before she could get under the cover of the wall.

Gweyir finds herself inside of the pantry. In all her experiences with human nobles, they hoard all of the food and wealth for themselves while the people go hungry - it is, then, a surprise to see that the Baron's store of food is as modest as most well-off Barovian commoners if the coffinmaker is anyone to judge by. He possesses a few jars of dried fruit and vegetable, some bushels of herbal tea leaves, a single clove of garlic, and a sack of cake flour. The one luxury item he seems to have retained is set against the opposite wall of the dusty shelves: two barrels of what smells like wine, stamped with RED DRAGON CRUSH and a logo for  Wizards of Wine Winery .

A wooden door leads further into the house. There is no light from the other side. She might be able to squeeze underneath the door, or find another crack or hole into other parts of the house.

 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
Gweyir can attempt Athletics to squeeze through the door gap, or Investigation to find other paths.
 

 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
For now, Gweyir is content to explore the house to get a better feel for the layout before going into nooks and crannies. She tries to shimmy under the door.

Athletics:  (1d20+2)[ 21 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Squeezing beneath the doorway, Gweyir finds herself in a kitchen, dim light coming off of the dying remains of a fire in the hearth. The countertops and prep stations are wiped down and clean, awaiting the cook's return the next day.

Two rooms to her left lead further into the first floor of the house, which she may be able to squeeze through the same way. At the other end of the kitchen there is also an unadorned servant's staircase leading up, with some boxes piled underneath. Some of them lack lids, revealing them to be empty save for a few paper lanterns leftover from the festival decorations the townspeople were putting up.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Remembering Kellon's words about the remains hidden upstairs, Gweyir opts to climb up to the servant's quarters. Rather than simply taking the stairs, however, Gweyir clings to the ceiling. No sense in accidentally bumping into the servant lady.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Crawling upon the ceiling, the world spins around upside down. It's a disorienting enough experience, without everything also being vastly larger. Stopping a moment to get hear bearings, Gweyir crawls up onto the wall above the stairs. Though they do not lead where expected.

The staircase climbs to a ten-foot-wide gallery that stretches almost the length of the mansion. Breathtaking  paintings of landscapes line the walls. Two separate, narrow hallways lead away from the gallery to the north. At the end of the gallery is a landing above the main stairs, where red drapes cover an arched window of leaded glass.

 
 Spoiler: Perception 
Down one of the hallways, Gweyir notices a dim light beneath one of the doors (marked with Yellow on the map).
Further down the same hallway, she can hear someone sobbing.
 

 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Gweyir's concern for others overcomes her caution of stealth and she heads down the hallway to investigate the source of the sobbing.
 
 Spoiler: Stealth 
 (1d20+4)[ 23 ] 
Add another +2 if her current Dex is actually 17
 

 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
She does use the Dex of a spider instead while wild shaped, yes.
 


Crawling down the hall, Gweyir moves with the absolute silence of something so small one would need to enhance their hearing with magic to hear her footsteps. For a moment, she peers under the doorway of the lit room. The man inside does not notice the tiny spider poking its head under his door, nor her tiny gasp.

Dolls. This room is full of pretty little dolls with powder-white skin and auburn hair, some of them dressed
beautifully, others plainly. Some of the dolls fill a long bookshelf, and others are arranged in neat rows on wall-mounted shelves. Still others are piled atop a bed and a heavy wooden chest. What's most odd is that all of the dolls, apart from their clothing, look the same.

 
 Spoiler: Gweyir Insight 
The dolls all bear the image of Ireena Kolyana.
 


Seated on the bed is a towering, bald-headed man clad in loose-fitting bedclothes. A suit of hide armor and a battleaxe are hung on a rack near the door. He is holding one of the dolls and staring at it intensely, with fierce, dark blue eyes. His right arm, the hand caressing the doll, is misshapen. Its flesh is a devilish red, covered up the back of the arm in black spines, with long, sharp claw-like nails. Under his breath, Gweyir can hear the fearsome man muttering what sounds like a nursery rhyme.

Taking note of the troubling sight, Gweyir crawls back into the hallway and continues, seeking the source of the sobbing. At the end of the hall she peers under one more door. The inside of this room was once a walk-in closet. It is featureless save for the manacles and chains hanging from the three other walls. Two of these sets of manacles are occupied:

Henrik van der Hoort, the treasonous coffin-maker, is chained to the wall. His head droops down, long hair no longer tied back and now shrouding his face. His chest rises and falls, but if not for this he would appear dead. The man wears only his undergarments, and the wall behind is bloodied by wounds upon his back from a lashing.

Beside him, another, younger man is also chained to the wall. His medium-length brown hair is a mess, and his left eye is swollen and bruised. He looks to be in better condition than the coffin-maker, but has clearly suffered beatings during his imprisonment. This man is awake, and trying to choke back sobs as tears run down from his eyes, a thin streak squeezing out of the corner of his bruise.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
The sight of all the dolls is enough to make one wonder if Ireena traded one abhorrent admirer for another... In the prison cell, it seems like they have found their missing man. Her heart goes out to him, but knows that releasing him from shackles (even if she could) would be folly with the strange-armed man still wide awake. Besides, the coffinmaker might blow her cover... Much as Gweyir hates to admit it, she needs help from the others.

Gweyir inspects the other rooms from below the doors, checking with her arachnid darkvision to see if there are any more gruesome surprises hidden away.
Perception:  (1d20+6)[ 12 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Doing her rounds of the other rooms on this floor, Gweyir finds...

Across from the improvised prison cell, a bedroom. This handsomely appointed room contains a canopied bed, a low bookshelf, and a full-length mirror in a wooden frame on the wall across from the door. Set into the north wall is an arched window of leaded glass. Nothing here seems unusual, apart from that the bed is empty and doesn't seem to have been so much as sat on recently. A portrait hangs above the bed: the baron and baroness, looking younger than they are now, alongside a young boy with a mop of dark hair. Vargas' son, the baronet, to whom this room must belong.

Across from the devil-armed man's room is a personal study. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line every wall of this windowless room in the heart of the mansion, and the number of books contained here is nothing short of astounding. An unlit brass oil lamp sits atop a large desk in the center of the room. The chair behind the desk is comfortably padded and has the symbol of a roaring bear stitched into its back cushion.

Moving into the next hallway, she finds a bathing chamber near the servants' stairs into the kitchen. An iron tub with clawed feet stands against the back wall, in a style that reminds Gweyir of the one in the Durst house. The two noble families must have had them made by the same craftsman. Neatly folded towels rest atop a table near the door. A second door leads into another room.

And lastly, she peers into the master bedroom. Time has faded the grandeur of this master bedroom.
The furnishings include a writing desk, a reading chair, and a wooden dresser; all of them have lost some of their color and splendor. A short pull-rope hangs from a wooden trapdoor in the ceiling. And another door appears to lead to whatever is between the master bedroom and the bathroom.

The baron and baroness lie in bed, asleep. A second powerful guard dog is curled up on the floor breathing softly in slumber with them.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Satisfied with her analysis of the second floor, Gweyir began making her way to the staircase to the top floor. The bones that Spider had seen must be up there. Given her experience in the Durst house, she wondered if she was going to meet the ghosts of more children...
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Crawling in another circuit around the second floor, Gweyir finds no good places to ascend. There are no stairs leading up to the attic, only the trapdoor in the ceiling of the master bedroom, above the guard dog which looms over her spidery countenance.

But a thought does occur. She is approaching problems like a humanoid, when she should be approaching them as a spider. Thinking back to the Durst house, she remembers the similar architecture, and the way the fireplaces of each floor connected into one another in a single chimney.

With no fire lit, it is simple enough to slip into the sooty tunnel and climb upwards. If Gweyir's little spider lungs could cough they surely would be. She passes by a grate on the second floor, peering out of iron bars into a humble boudoir. This room smells of powder and fine perfume. A vanity with a mirror stands against one wall next to a faceless wooden mannequin wearing a white bridal gown. Mounted on another wall is a full-length mirror with a gilded frame. The room appears to be between the master bedroom and the bathroom, with another door in the corner.

Carrying on upwards, Gweyir reaches the attic level of the hearth's ducts. In another flashback to the Durst manor, she sees an attic storage room. This large attic is full of old, forgotten things draped in white sheets. Piled around them are barrels, crates, trunks, and old furnishings covered with cobwebs and dust. A clear footpath snakes its way from a door just to her left, through the maze of forgotten relics of mundanity and up to a wooden doorway at the other end, beneath which soft light glimmers.

Someone has carved a large skull into this door. Hanging from the doorknob is a wooden sign that reads  "ALL IS NOT WELL!"  in clear mockery of the Baron's mantra. From inside, a young man's voice can be heard chanting in what Gweyir clearly recognizes as arcane incantations - but they sound sloppy, and unpracticed.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
She needs to shapeshift more often... Upon finding her way to the third floor, Gweyir sees no sign of the cat bones that Spider reported. Instead, she is treated to signs she is well-versed in from her younger brother: the acting out of a rebellious teen. Worse, it seems like the baron's son was practicing some form of arcane magic... Hopefully, the house will not blow up while she is still inside. Gweyir creeps forward toward the skull-carved door, wanting to get a better look at what sort of ritual is being performed on such a dark and stormy night.
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Crawling across the attic floor, the little collective clumps of dust more like grass and undergrowth at her current size, Gweyir reaches the door. Squeezing her small spider face through the gap below, she peers inside.

Someone has taken old, mismatched furniture and created a study is this dusty, lamp-lit chamber. A makeshift bed of blankets and pillows is assembled in the far corner. Tables are strewn with pieces of parchment, on which strange diagrams are drawn, and a freestanding bookshelf holds a collection of bones. A dusty rug covers the floor in front of a pine box, on which lounges a skeletal cat. Several more skeletal cats skulk about. Most unnerving of all is the sight of three small children standing with their backs to you in the northeast corner of the room, two of them staring out of the window.

 
 Spoiler: Stealth 
None of the undead cats notices Gweyir poking inside.
 

 
 Spoiler: Perception 
Gweyir notices that the children are standing on small, circular wooden platforms... which merge into their bare, wooden feet... These are not children at all! They are small mannequins dressed up in clothing.
 


In the center of the room, perched on a stool, is a rail thin young man with a premature streak of gray in his dark hair. He cradles an open leather-bound book on the table between his arms, reading it intensely as he chants. Sitting on the table, at the center of a circle drawn in chalk and surrounded by candles, is another cat's skeleton. The boy clasps a black stone in his hands, which softly gleams with a purple light from inside, reaching tendrils out towards the feline remains. One of the undead felines wandering the room brushes up against his leg, imitating the motions of a real cat.

 "Os et filum, pupa mortis. Os et filum, pupa mortis." 
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Those children seen in the window weren't ghosts at all! It was the mannequins! Gweyir wondered why the baron's son dressed them up so, especially since it seemed like they had nothing to do with the ritual. Was he just lonely?

He must be, considering that he is dabbling in necromancy to bring back the cats. It wasn't the Baron hiding skeletons in his closet, but this young necromancer in training. The little tarantula hairs on Gweyir's body stand up in disgust. Gweyir feels the strong need to lecture the young man, but her concern is first and foremost for the young man imprisoned downstairs.

Doing her best to withdraw quietly, Gweyir goes to inspect what she expects is the boy's bedroom before heading back down to the pantry on the first level.

Stealth:  (1d20+6)[ 9 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
As she withdraws, one of the skeletal cats perks up its head and lunges down, scrabbling its tiny bone feet against the bottom of the door. Gweyir, of course, is already beyond reach. She can hear the boy quickly start from his table and scurry over to the door, leaning up against it.  "Father? I told you not to disturb me in my... studies."  The boy's voice is a mixture of indignation and fear of being discovered. When his father does not answer, he opens the door just enough to peer out.

An empty attic greets him, save for a little spider scurrying away. He slips back inside and locks the door behind him. There is a slight magical gleam to the skull pattern upon its face before the door returns to its normal, dusty brown.

A peek into the other room upstairs reveals no bedroom. This dusty, twenty-foot-square room has a high-pitched ceiling that reaches its peak twenty feet above. The wooden rafters are shrouded in cobwebs. Except for an old table with an unlit oil lantern on it, and a trapdoor in the corner with a folding ladder built into it, the room is empty. The downstairs bedroom was untouched for a while, so the boy must just sleep locked up here with his skeletal cats - an act of protest, or rebellion against his father?

Whatever the answer, it seems the secrets of the Baron's manse have now been uncovered. Another abhorrent admirer to Ireena, prisoners in a closet kept off the record, and a budding young necromancer in the attic. Gweyir is about to return to the chimney when she turns around to face a grinning skeletal face of sharp feline teeth, bared in a silent hunter's growl. As cats do, it begins by toying with its prey, taking a light swat with its claw that only scratches Gweyir's back.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Normally this would be a swatting contest of a 1 hp tarantula vs a 2 hp cat. But given the scale of the encounter, we will have Gweyir use the stats of a  Giant Spider  (with the usual wild shape rules) vs a Leopard.
 

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Skeletal Cat acts first, dealing  4  damage with a claw attack.

Gweyir is up!
 

 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
Death and rot! She had been noticed! Thankfully, the boy himself didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but now one of his awful creations was making her into a scratching post!

This undead thing would care nothing for sharp fangs or poison. Gweyir needs to get out. With a skitter of her hairy chitinous legs, Gweyir scurries back down the chimney toward the back door of the main floor.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Gweyir Disengages and gets as close as she can to the crack she made in the back of the house.
 

 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: Gweyir 
As the skeletal feline's bony paw comes down, Gweyir leaps out of the way on her eight legs and flees towards the fireplace. Clattering bones upon wooden floor follow closely behind her until she slips through the grate of the hearth and begins the descent down the sooty walls, reaching the second floor.

Cats are slippery creatures, and that's when they have flesh on their bodies they have to squeeze. It soon slips through the grate itself and then, realizing gravity has taken control, yowls silently as it falls past Gweyir onto the grate of the second floor hearth.

The sound of a dog barking sharply pierces through the silence of the night, coming from the next room over, the master bedroom. The Baron's hound scratches at the door.

Time now short, Gweyir dashes down the chimney chute past the cat, suffering another swat of a claw upon her backside. But the dog's barking has startled the undead feline, which now tries in vain to scrabble back up the wall of the chimney it fell down rather than pursue its playtime with the little spider scurrying for safety. With her pursuer now occupied, Gweyir slips beneath the door of the pantry and then out the mouse hole.

The welcoming dousing of the outside rain greets her, rapidly soaking her arachnid body and choking her tiny air holes. But it means that her task is now complete...
 


Kellon's sleep is disturbed by the sound of the door opening, in the small hours of the morning. It's only been a couple hours of rest so far and his body still feels groggy, his power still drained from the day prior. Gweyir has slumped back into the room, once again dripping wet from the rain outside, and begun to wring her hair out into a wooden wash basin on the table.
Prehysterical
That was fast... which was either a good or a bad sign. Groaning as he rubbed at his eyes, Kellon tried to keep his voice down as he asked,  "Well, what did you find?" 
RandomWombat
After wringing her hair, Gweyir starts to sit down on the chair, then grimaces as she feels the squelching of her wet clothes against the seat.   "I'll have to ask if Dart has any bathrobes she can lend me until my clothes dry,"   she grumbles, before filling Kellon in on all the things she'd seen in the house - the good and the bad.

  "At the very least we can rest easy knowing there are no children kept in the attic,"   she says with a relieved sigh.
Prehysterical
Well, comforting as it was to know that there were not more ghosts of children... There was more bad news than good. Kellon scratched at his shelled shoulder in thought, his troubled expression clear even with his beak.

 "So, if the lad is indeed locked up in the Baron's home, he might be fortunate to leave on his own two feet... Do you reckon that we might be able to blackmail the Baron into releasing him? Would it be better to do that in private or spring it on him during the festival tomorrow. And, uh... should we tell Ireena that she has another unwanted suitor?" 
RandomWombat
  "From what we've seen of this Baron, I think denouncing him in public would provoke him to do something stupid,"   Gweyir answers cynically, with venom in her voice. Then she smirks and adds,   "Who knows though. The people and the guards might side with the Vampire Killers over him."  
 "We should break him out,"  the zombie's voice speaks up from his position seated in the corner, near a slightly cracked open window to keep his smell from lingering too intensely in the room.  "Before his wounds get infected or the Baron does worse to him." 
  "And of course we should tell Ireena. I'm not so sure about Ismark, though, he could do something rash if he learns of this before we know more."  
Prehysterical
Kellon nods begrudgingly at Gweyir's observation and Sokol's suggestion.  "The Baron likes to make examples out of those who displease him. A man like him never admits when he is in the wrong. Even if we had the entire town on our side, he would just pull rank and pour salt on the wound just for spite! That's, of course, assuming that the guards side with us. If not... well, we could  maybe  win, but I didn't come to this town just to leave a bunch of widows and orphans. We might just have to confront the Baron discreetly before the ceremonies tomorrow. If he refuses at first, we can make a scene at the festival. We'll never be able to sneak the man out of the house, though, not with those dogs on watch. Even if we distracted the one on the ground floor, the one who sleeps with the Baron would catch our scent or hear us before we could get out. Call me strange, if you like, but I don't like harming dogs unless I absolutely have to." 

Fixing his gaze upon Gweyir, Kellon continues,  "You should be the one to tell Ireena. You're the one who saw everything and... well, maybe she'll bear the news better coming from another woman instead of a man. Sokol and I can make our way to the Baron's home and see about rescuing our captive."  The tortle flicks his claws between himself and the zombie by the window in point of emphasis.
RandomWombat
  "Think we'll end up going to the same place anyways, she and her brother are staying with the Baron remember? Anyways, you should get some more sleep first. We can handle it in the morning,"   Gweyir rubs her bagged eyes and glances out the window.   "Ugh, I'm probably only getting a couple hours of sleep at this point. But better than nothing."   She gets back up from her chair and waves her arms at Sokol and Kellon.   "... and I'm not going to bed in wet clothes so turn around."  

Grabbing the drawstrings of his hood, Sokol pulls it tight around his face, only his scarf-covered nose poking through the ring of fur at the center.
Prehysterical
 "Ah, right... I forgot."  Kellon blearily blinks his eyes and gapes his beak in a yawn. Tempted as he was to march straight down to the Baron's door, it had been an exhausting day. He would need to commune with the elements in the morning in case he should need to bring his god's full blessing to bear.

He rolls his eyes at Gweyir's request for privacy. On a ship, there was very little room for such privacy and the saggy bits of humanoids mean nothing to the tortle's eyes. Still, Kellon retracts his head within his shell. Echoed snores begin to rumble from within its confines.
RandomWombat
Peaceful darkness swallows the world once more. The sleep is too deep and needed to remember any of the dreams that might accompany it. A distant, welcoming sound at last draws him out of slumber, into the dim lantern-lit room. It feels like it should be dawn. But the windows gaze out over a town still covered in the dark. The sound of rain pattering hard against the glass gives Kellon a soothed feeling inside.

A flash of light cracks through the dark for but a moment. Then, BOOM. A rumbling bass reverberates through the earth and up into the floor, and up into the bed, and into Kellon's shell. It is like Poseidon's guiding hand pressed upon his chest.

The others are awake already. Sokol and Gweyir are each standing in front of one of the windows, the latter wearing a house robe while her clothes and armor are hung up on a drying rack one of the inn servers must have brought up. Father Donavich is kneeling next to his bed, holy symbol clutched in hand, quietly praying to his presently absent sun. And 'little' Spider is lurking in the corner, watching over them all like a terrible, friendly guardian angel.

Some breakfast is set up on the table. Bread rolls, four bowls of cabbage soup, and an already-drained flank of wolf meat with a pair of massive fang marks on the side.

 "The 'sky' sounds angry,"  Spider says, legs shivering a little in the wake of the blast of thunder.  "Like when Kellon gets angry!" 
  "Upside to having a sun priest and a storm priest on our side is just about any weather is a good omen,"   Gweyir comments with a wily grin up at their arachnid friend. He raises up his front legs in a jubilant,  "Good omen! ...What's an omen?" 
Prehysterical
At first, Kellon mistakes the distant rumbling for the creaking of wood. When the unmistakable clap of thunder shakes him to his bones, however, Kellon jolts wide awake from within his shell. He looks outside with clear awe and glee. The tortle scrabbles out of bed like a hatchling and rushes over to the window. His laughter is child-like in excitement, only slightly colored by smug satisfaction.  "An omen, lad! A sign from Poseidon Himself! The Baron's hubris has angered the Stormlord! Hahaha! I can only imagine the look on his chubby cheeks right now! All that work and suffering for the Sun Festival, only for his parade to get  rained on !" 

Turning to Gweyir, Kellon continues,  "And while the Baron's hopes are dashed by the pelting rain, the iron has never been more hot to strike! Oh, the irony! I shall march to the Baron's door and demand the release of Wilhelmina's son! He shall be reminded that the clouds and wind care nothing for the bones of saints. But first, I must commune! When Poseidon speaks so clearly with His voice, I must take heed!"  Breakfast is completely forgotten as Kellon hurries down the stairs, striding right into the middle of the street. He holds his arms with palms upward in reverence, the pitter-patter of rain bouncing off of his bare shell as lightning's glow bathes his face in harsh light.

  "Poseidon!"   Kellon bellows into the storm, uncaring of the hour as he booms back at the black mass of clouds.   "Tempest! Krakenfather! I hear Your voice boom in the thunder! I see Your pen strokes in lines of lightning! Your servant stands in awe of your power! SPEAK, AND I SHALL LISTEN!!!"   Kellon holds aloft the trident head of his holy symbol, as if offering it up to lightning's bite.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
This will count as Kellon's spell preparation today
 
RandomWombat
Kellon's excitement is contagious. Spider chitters and squeals with delight, and Gweyir grins back at him as he rejoices.   "Glad to see you in such a good mood!"   she says, speaking loudly over the pounding rain on the windows.

The tortle bounds down the stairway as if flying, moving like a cannonball into the middle of the street. No people walk the sopping pavement to stand in his way or be barreled over. Turning his face skyward, it is bombarded with the droplets of water, dousing his accessories and spilling water down his shell in streams that splatter to the pavement below like little waterfalls.

The storm speaks back. A resounding bellow, a boom separated not in time from its counterpart, blinding light. A spear of lightning strikes the pavement directly before him, sending pieces of stone scattering from the sheer force and momentarily leaving him struck deaf, dumb and blind. Electricity surging through the air just next to him tingles across the surface of his body, but nowhere is he scorched or burnt.

  "Kellon!"   the shouting of Donavich as he runs out to check on him is downed out by the ringing in Kellon's ears. His knees feel weak and he soon finds himself on his knees on the cobblestone. The sun priest's hand rests on his shoulder and swiftly checks him for injuries.

It takes nearly a minute before sight and sound begin to return. When they do, the others have also joined him in the street, Gweyir still tugging wet pieces of armor back into place as she jogs out to join them.   "Holy crap."  

Speared into the ground in front of Kellon is a trident carved in a single piece out of the massive, gleaming white bone of some kind of marine animal, perhaps a whale. It is carved with symbols of waves, wind and thunder all down its haft. Laying a claw upon its sends instinctive recognition lancing into his mind, along with a healthy jolt of static electricity. This is a sacred weapon of Poseidon's servants, wielded by the merfolk armies of his faithful.

 
 Spoiler: Trident of Riptide 
 Trident of Riptide 
This magical trident has a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls.
When this trident is thrown while the wielder is wet, the wielder may move with the trident. Falling damage becomes based on the new position of the wielder after the trident is thrown if the wielder was falling. By throwing it repeatedly, a crude form of 'flight' can be achieved, so long as it is raining.
The Trident of Riptide ‘flies’ perfectly underwater, doubling its throwing range beneath the waves.
 
Prehysterical
Years ago, when Kellon had been a boy, he had stood on the beach in the midst of a tropical monsoon. It had been a transformative moment, no longer cowering from the elements but facing them head-on. Someone less scaly would have called the experience "hair-raising". And yet... even that storm was nothing compared to a point-blank blast of lightning, feeling the thunder reverberate through his body like a gong. Was this how it felt to die? A great cacophony and ocular explosion, giving way to nothing and ringing silence?

It is a wonder that Kellon merely drops to his knees instead of being knocked flat back onto his shell. Kellon wobbles groggily as the sound of falling rain slowly starts to edge back into his hearing and individual droplets could be seen instead of blurry mist. Once his sight is finally regained, it locks fully onto the weapon planted in the ground before him. Even before he touches it, Kellon knows beyond doubt that it is a gift. His claws touch it and the sensations in his mind are far more shocking than the electricity itself. The sound of whale song, the  feeling  of bubbles caressing on the crest of a wave... A weapon that landwalkers would see once in a few generations.

Kellon uses the trident like a staff to stand, pulling the weapon free when he is steady on his feet. He grabs the trident with both hands, examining the curved tines and their barbed tips like harpoons. His voice is reverent as it barely carries above the weather.  "If there was ever any doubt..."  Kellon looks toward Gweyir and the druid can see the burning zealotry in his eyes like balled lightning.  "We were  meant  to be here, Gweyir. I will not falter from this test!" 

Hefting the weapon, Kellon feels a strong urge to test its magic while the rain still beats down heavy. An empty street in the wee hours of a stormy morning offers more opportunity than most. Hurling the trident with all his strength down the avenue, Kellon curls his claws and wills himself to follow.
RandomWombat
The weapon feels comfortable in his grip, feeling as though the bone molds to fit his claws. A grasp more natural than handling any of these man-made weapons. It holds his weight well as he uses it to climb back to his shaky legs.

  "I thought you got blasted into turtle soup!"   Gweyir yells back, staring at the trident in amazement.   "I guess this cursed land isn't completely beyond the gods' reach!"  

As he pulls back the trident, the others watch with a hint of confusion. Until the weapon leaves his hand and their expressions change to amazement - Kellon is dragged behind the trident as if by a powerful current. It feels, for a moment, like hurtling through the ocean rather than hurtling through open air. Beneath him, he can hear Spider's excited exclamations at Kellon  'learning to fly' . Only at the peak of the trident's arc does his claw catch up to it, allowing him to grip it once more. And then he feels the weight of gravity take hold again, pulling him down as the momentum of his throw carries him forward. His throw was angled to be long rather than high and he only has a short drop before his claws touch pavement again, but they catch upon the stones and he soon finds his triumphant maiden flight turning into a head over heels roll over the cobblestones.

Kellon's shell protects him from injury, but not from the dizziness, the soreness, and perhaps a bit of wounded pride. Learning to stick the landing might take some practice.
Prehysterical
For a moment, Kellon feels a new height of power as the trident's magic causes him to soar like a manta ray... and then he tumbles like a crab caught in the tide. The crash is a bit embarrassing, but Kellon is far too joyful to be troubled. This is a mighty weapon that he has been gifted! With a groan, Kellon rises to reunite with the others.  "I have indulged enough in Poseidon's gift. I shall now do his holy work and seek out the Baron. Let him see the depths of his volley."  Kellon goes to do just that, looking for all the world like an emerged leviathan as he marches toward the Baron's estate with trident in hand.
RandomWombat
  "Graceful landing there."  

The others are not far behind, Sokol and Donavich carrying umbrellas with them to ward off the pouring rain. Gweyir has her hood pulled up, though the material is already soaked through. And Spider seems to be handling the rain just fine, reaching out with his fangs to slap and play with the big raindrops.

 "Quite right. We're off to see the Baron,"  Father Donavich concurs.

Traversing the empty streets, they make their way to the manor. The few people outside are making their way towards Vallaki square, with umbrellas or coats pulled over their heads. Fear of the Baron's displeasure ensures that the Festival shall be attended - blazing sun or no blazing sun.


Baron Vallakovich's manor stands as ever, rain sloughing off of the rooftop eaves down into puddles that drown the wet grass. Claws grasping the knocker, Kellon announces their arrival. The answer takes only a few moments, but it is not the maid Petunia who answers the door this time.

On the other side is a bald-headed beast of a man, clad in mail and a heavy fur greatcloak. Hung at his side on his belt is a fierce battleaxe, with a blade most men would struggle to handle with only one hand. On the other side of his body, the monstrous arm Gweyir spoke of is covered up by the greatcloak. Cutting a figure a head taller than Kellon if he were able to break his natural hunch, and with shoulders nearly as wide as the tortle's shell, the man looks down into the cleric's eyes.

  "Your reputation precedes you Vampire Killer,"   his voice is like cold flame, crackling and whipping at the air yet absent of... something. Some spark is missing that makes the man sound and feel less than human.   "I am Izek Strazni, captain of the Vallaki guard. You have my thanks for being rid of those vampire spawn,"   the words are polite and well-spoken as Izek steps aside to allow the party in.   "The Baron enjoys breakfast with... his guests before the Festival. Second door on your left."   Only when he speaks of the Kolyana siblings does his stone cold voice waver, allowing a glimpse of something else, something small and uncertain. Like a half-formed emotion which itself doesn't know what it is yet. It is gone as soon as it came, and he waits for them to enter so he can shut out the wind and the cold.
Prehysterical
Somehow, this 'Izek' is even uglier than Gweyir described. Kellon would perhaps be more forgiving of the man's mutations if it wasn't for his stalkerish tendencies.  "No need to thank us. The vampires are a threat to us all. We are happy to be rid of them."  He isn't sure whether it's good or bad that their pair of noble siblings will be present for this confrontation, but he decides to clamp his beak until they are past the front door. Kellon stomps inside, heading for the Baron's breakfast nook... where the  real  storm is brewing.
RandomWombat
Kellon and his entourage file in. As Spider crawls into the building, the Baron's guard dog flattens its ears and growls, cautious of the huge arachnid. Spider crawls up onto the ceiling to avoid the animal, hanging above Kellon's head.

Once they've all come inside, Izek closes the door behind them and stands next to it, watching them impassively. Claws curl around the handle of the dining room door, and Kellon opens it, greeted with the master and mistress of the house dining alongside the Barovian baronet and his sister.

A chandelier of wrought iron fitted with wax candles hangs above a polished wooden dining table, upon which rests a bowl of sweet bread rolls with pieces of vegetables baked in. Petunia, the maid from the other day, is pouring some hot tea from a pot into cups for each person at the table. Ireena holds up a hand to wave at the crew as they loom on the other side of the door, and Isamark offers Kellon a nod of greeting.  "Hey! What brings you here?"  Ireena asks, seeming no worse for wear at least.

Turning in his seat to see who's interrupted him in the middle of one of the bread rolls, the Baron's visible irritation fades when he sees who it is.  "Ah. Greetings, welcome. Help yourself to a roll. We must soon depart for the festival, where people are no doubt waiting on me, so there is little time for social calls - is this important?" 
Prehysterical
The siblings seem to be enjoying their stay... Kellon waves off the offer of a morning roll, his manner dour.  "Aye, it is. Your prisoner... the lad who spoke up... I want him released.  Now . You have made your point quite clearly. Let him go home to his mother. She has been worried sick about him." 
RandomWombat
The old man's face curls into disdain when Kellon cuts straight to his little secret.  "You've been poking around where you shouldn't be,"  the Baron growls, setting down his breakfast roll with the bitter force of a tantruming child onto his plate.

  "What prisoner is he talking about, Baron?"   Ismark asks, catching onto Kellon's tone and casting the master of the house a suspect gaze through narrowed eyes.

 "Matters of law that our guest seeks to dispute,"  standing up, the Baron stands before Kellon with his head raised. What must be an intimidating figure to the people of Vallaki just looks to the outsider's eye like an old man grown accustomed to too much power. As their eyes meet, the baron meets the lightning in Kellon's eyes with defiance. But will it hold, or will it break?

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Roll me a Persuasion or Intimidate, at your preference.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon's first instinct is to put this oversized man-child in his place. The tortle visibly bristles and opens his beak slightly to begin his tirade, but his eyes fall upon the baron's wife and two children sitting at the table. He should not be threatening this man in front of his own family, within his own home, no less. Kellon takes a breath to calm himself before responding firmly, even if it's not as loudly as he would have done so at first.

 "As your town's coffinmaker found out, the truth has a nasty habit of revealing itself. I don't know if you've looked outside yet, but it's been raining for quite a while with no signs of stopping. Your Sun Festival is a wash! Your people should be indoors, taking shelter and staying warm. That is more in keeping with Lathander's teachings than forcing them to stand in drenched misery. Even I, a devoted servant of Tempest who celebrates the storm, can see that!"  Kellon thumps his shell in emphasis.  "And while you sit here and dine in comfort, there is a man upstairs who weeps to be with his own mother. How can you call yourself a  father  and not understand the pain that his mother is feeling, not knowing where her son is or if he is even alive?

I ask you this, Baron, and answer me truthfully: who is today meant to celebrate? Lathander, the people of Vallaki... or you?" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Persuasion:  (1d20+4)[ 11 ] 
 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Just to clarify there are no children present at the table. Only the Kolyana siblings.
 


When his festival is called into question, the Baron's face contorts like a mask in some terrible theatrical performance. Behind him, his guard dog growls.  " Stop the Festival ? After the entire town has been looking forward to it all week?"  the man responds, practically frothing at the mouth. Kellon recalls the sullen faces and tired drudgery of the citizens setting up decorations they had no interest in. Can he be this blind?

 "Wait. Hold on. You have somebody being held in your house?"  Ireena cuts in. When the man's vicious glare turns to her, Ismarck grips the table with his hand tightly, looking ready to throw it if the Baron tries anything.

 "Our prison lacks the facilities for long term sentences,"  the Baron says through clenched teeth.  "Might I remind you that you are  guests  I took under my  protection . Questioning the laws of Vallaki is beyond any of your purview,"  though his frothing rant was stalled out by Ireena's comment, his voice remains tense and on the verge of snapping.

 "Vampire Killer, I must ask you to leave my home. For your service to Vallaki I will spare you exile or lashes..."  he glances at the tortle's shell, as if assessing how useful lashes would actually be as a punishment,  "... for this insult. But I will not have my integrity as a Baron and a father berated in my own home!" 

Heavy footsteps clomp against the floor behind Kellon, and a heavy hand claps itself upon Father Donavich's shoulder.   "Time to go. I don't ask politely twice,"   Izek's cold voice informs them.
Prehysterical
Kellon is completely unfazed by the Baron's tantrum. His worst suspicions are confirmed. The Baron cannot see past the end of his own nose!

Izek only gets the barest of glances from Kellon before he looks back to the Baron.  "You don't even know that your son is practicing  necromancy  under the roof of your own home,"  Kellon retorts contemptuously.  "Your integrity as a father is already disgraced." 

Much as the man needs a solid thrashing, Kellon won't do it within the man's own home... Not at this moment. Besides, Donavich would be the first to suffer if Izek turns violent. Kellon turns toward the door and begins plodding forward.  "I know where the door is,"  he pointedly tells Izek, a warning against being touched.
RandomWombat
The baron's eyes go wide, like the bulging eyes of a terrible bird.   "What?!"   the old man's voice cracks - not in fear, not in nervousness, but in fury.  "Blasted boy- no, Lydia, don't stop me,"  turning around, he begins to storm out like a wounded penguin, holding up a hand to stop his wife as she stands to try and calm him.  "Go and see that preparations for the festival continue apace... I must have a talk with the boy." 

Baroness Lydia stands where she'd risen from her seat, pulling back her hand and allowing her husband to go. On her face is not the fear of a battered woman, but a deep sadness that creeps in from behind the mask of cheer Kellon had seen on her on the few occasions they'd met. Ismark and Ireena begin to get up from their seats as well, following Kellon towards the door.

 "He wasn't always like this,"  the woman's voice is quiet, apologetic as she turns and looks at them all filing out.  "My Vargas just... he just wanted to be their light in the darkness... but..."  Slowly, she lowers herself back into her seat, staring at the remains of the meal in front of her.

Hesitating at the door, Ismark tells her,   "I'm sorry for leaving early, ma'am. I mean no disrespect. Thank you for the shelter, and the meal."  

Izek makes no move to stop them, lowering his hand from Donavich's shoulder once they begin to leave. But a strangely focused leer takes over his empty eyes when Ireena passes, hand twitching at his side as if yearning to reach out and touch the red hair trailing behind her.


Outside, Ismark unfolds an umbrella of his own to shelter him and his sister, the two of them joining Kellon's party on the street.

  "I can't believe the gall of that man,"   Gweyir spits on the stones, adding but a drop to the pouring rain.

 "Is he actually keeping someone captive, Kellon?"  stepping forward, followed closely behind by Ismark in an attempt to keep her dry, Ireena stops before the tortle.  "To think we've been staying under that man's roof!" 
  " I  do not remember him as a tyrant,"   speaking up in hesitant defense of the Baron, Ismark shakes his head.   "When I was a boy, and he and my father visited one another, he was a kind man. A good man. Something must have broken in him to make him this way..."  
Prehysterical
The Baron's reaction is... confusing. It's almost like the boy got caught sneaking out instead of the most unwholesome of arcane magics. Kellon feels some mild guilt from the look on Lydia's face. Clearly, things have been rough for this family for a while now. Kellon wants to stick around and ask some questions, but knows better than to push Izek's patience.

Outside, Kellon angrily clacks his beak together in frustration.  "Aye, he's been keeping  two . One is the treacherous undertaker, who I will shed no salty tears for, but the other was a man who merely spoke out against the Baron and his manic preparations for the Sun Festival. One of those crimes is not like the other... Regardless of his past demeanor, the misery of his subjects is very much in the now." 

He pauses for a moment, the wheels in his head already turning. Kellon turns and asks Gweyir,  "Would you all mind heading back to the inn? So we can share a  drink  later?"  His tone makes it very clear that alcohol is the last thing on his mind.  "I must speak with the good Father at the church to get his blessing for tonight. Then, we can make a 'toast' to the Baron's little festival." 
RandomWombat
 "He's right. We can't let this keep going on,"  Ireena insists, fixing her brother with a stubborn look that draws a pained sigh from him.

  "Something needs to change, you are right about that. Kellon, you can count on me to have your back, as you had mine,"   the nobleman resolves, leading Ireena towards the Blue Water at the storm cleric's direction. Gweyir nods in understanding and joins them with Spider at her heel, Sokol trudging behind her with slow methodical steps and a fist clenched at his side.

Father Donavich does not go with them. Instead, he falls into step alongside Kellon. In a somber voice he explains,  "I wish to visit the church as well. To pray before the Morninglord, before we undertake this stand against Baron Vargas." 


People are beginning to shuffle reluctantly out of their homes as the pair passes through the waterlogged streets of Vallaki, carrying umbrellas or wearing heavy hoods. Weary looks adorn their sullen faces as they undertake a forced march to the mandatory festival, lest they too be punished as 'party poopers'.

Sitting outside of the church is a familiar man, the one who had given Sokol a note on their last visit. Ernst, a servant of the Dursts' cousin Lady Fiona Wachter. He stands and smiles at the two of them approach. With sharp features, the man could perhaps pass for an elf if not for the mustache and chin scruff that give his appearance a dash of roguish charm.  "Good morning! Father,"  he bows his head respectfully to Father Donavich, then addresses Kellon again.  "If I may have a moment of your time, sirs?" 
Prehysterical
Well, it is nice to know that his companions all se the necessity of this defiance, regardless of their outlook. Even Father Donavich understands that the Baron's conduct cannot be ignored any longer. The need can be seen in the faces of the beleaguered townsfolk making their way, not out of reverence for their god but out of fear of the Baron's wrath.

Ernst's presence at the chapel comes as a sour surprise to Kellon, an obstacle for his necessary communion. This comes out as an impatient snap at the man.  "My time is precious this morning, so say your piece and be done with it." 
RandomWombat
Adjusting his collar with an understanding smile that reminds Kellon of a used boat salesman, Ernst makes his pitch.  "Of course, yes. I will keep it brief and to the point. My employer Lady Wachter has long disapproved of the Baron's bleeding resources into these fool festivals for the sole purpose of provoking our overlord on the plateau. What was once not urgent now feels like it will come to a head soon. No festival has been so plagued by disaster and disappointment as this one, and there is every possibility this month's will end in a violent confrontation between citizens and the Baron's guard..."  the man pauses, taking a moment to gauge Kellon and Donovich's faces.  "She hopes that you feel the same, and are willing to work together to resolve this issue." 

Lips a flat line, Father Donavich searches the man's face in turn.  "And I suppose your Lady wants to 'remove' the Baron purely out of goodwill?  Who  exactly would take over governance of Vallaki afterwards?" 
 "Traditionally the Baron's eldest son would take over the office,"  Ernst answers diplomatically.  "But I can sense the meaning behind your words, Father. My Lady and I are  not  suggesting that we  kill  the Baron - only remove him from power. The man is clearly unwell, and has been for some time." 
Prehysterical
Knowing a charlatan when he hears one, Kellon's stony face gives the man nothing to work off of. His answer is just shy of accusatory.  "Anything that involves sticking it to Strahd is fine by me, but your Lady would not be so heavily invested if she wasn't in position to claim the title herself. What gives her the right to step in over the Baron's son to take over? Or the Baron's wife?"  He wants the man to outright admit his employer's angle.
 
 Spoiler: Insight 
 (1d20+6)[ 12 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Lowering his gaze deferentially, Ernst maintains a quiet smile as he answers,  "My Lady would gladly step in if necessary, but to be perfectly honest sirs, the wallflower baroness or the inexperienced young baronet cannot be worse than their patron."  The partial-accusation is met with a partial-admittance, and he raises his eyes to meet Kellon's again.  "'Sticking it to' ahem...  you-know-who  is well and good sirs. But there can only be so many festivals openly taunting the King before he decides to blockade the farms from delivering food to our walls, or some other manner of punishment our blessed walls have no power against. All my Lady wishes for is  peace and quiet ." 
 
 Spoiler: Insight 
In spite of Kellon's steel gaze and accusatory words, the man looks pleased with himself. After all... he got the customer talking. How much of his words is real and how much is snake oil though, who can say.
 
Prehysterical
 "More like meek submission and servitude,"  Kellon retorted harshly.  "Would she hand over sacrifices of 'cattle' to avert her master's wrath?

In any case, I'm not interested in being a pawn of politics. We will deal with the Baron on our own terms."  Kellon walked past the man and into the church.
RandomWombat
Wisely, Ernst steps out of the way before Kellon can bowl him over. He straightens out his shirt, wearing a frown. But he does not press the issue, turning to walk off into the raining morn without another word.

Stepping into the church of St. Andral, the floorboards creak under Kellon's claws. It is quiet within save for the sound of a hammer, and the two walk inside to find Father Lucian upon a ladder patching a leaky hole in the roof, a Barovian man standing underneath and holding the ladder steady.

When he hears the door open, the Father addresses them from the ladder,  "Morning mass will be held in the town square during the Festival folks,"  he says, tiredly.  "I will be there shortly- ah,"  catching a look at who it is out of the corner of his eye, the Father begins descending the ladder.

 "Do you require any help, Father?"  Donavich asks, stepping forward to help the older man down.

 "We are just about finished here, thank you. Darius, can you give us a moment in private?" 

The parishioner nods and steps out into the entrance room, giving them some privacy.
Prehysterical
After Darius leaves, Kellon gives Lucian a wry shake of his head.  "For a man who seems very enthusiastic in his sun worship, the Baron certainly doesn't show that piety in the care of this church,"  he observes.  "Do you risk offending Lathander by performing his service out in the wet?" 
RandomWombat
Wiping his hands on a rag, Father Lucian folds it and sets it upon one of the pews.  "I could criticize the Baron for many things, but we  are  well funded,"  the old man says with a soft chuckle.  "Alas, the wear of ages can be bribed not with mortal currency. But it does buy patches for my leaky roof." 
 "It shames me to know I let my own chapel fall into such disrepair,"  Father Donavich sighs, holding onto the pendant around his neck and perhaps offering up a prayer for forgiveness.

Walking over, Lucian shakes hands with Donavich, before offering a handshake to Kellon as well.  "Perhaps it is not the best day for a sun festival. But the Morninglord espouses the virtue of perseverance in the face of adversity. I am certain he would look well on his followers defying the rain... were the defiance a matter of choice." 
 "You have come to renew your blessing against the night, Kellon?" 
Prehysterical
So, the Baron was not  completely  negligent of his duties... Kellon grasps the priest's firmly but carefully.  "I have indeed come for my blessing, but... Father, if I may be so bold... Would you want me to offer up a prayer to Poseidon after your sermon? Perhaps if the Storm God is acknowledged by the townsfolk, he might have a bit of mercy on them standing in the rain. Everyone is soaked to the bone and even I, who is from a world of water, can feel that same cold seep into my bones."  Kellon hefts his new trident to show to Lucian.  "Besides, Tempest has bestowed unto me a new gift. I feel like this day is special to him, too." 
RandomWombat
The older priest's mouth curls into a thoughtful downcast as he considers the suggestion.  "Normally, I would be hesitant to present the people with a prayer to an outsider god. The people of this land are hesitant to change, and slow to trust. But... your actions in defense of Vallaki and the children of the orphanage have not gone unnoticed."  After their handshake, he withdraws his hand and folds them in front of himself.

 "A prayer to your god may turn this rain that feels like a curse into a blessing, instead,"  Father Donavich suggests, his voice still melancholy.  "The farmers' crops need rain. But if the deluge continues like this, it could wash away their fields instead." 
 "Then I will grant my permission to hold a prayer after the sermon,"  Father Lucian agrees, taking the holy symbol from around his neck into his hands in preparation to suppress Kellon's curse.  "Are you ready?" 
Prehysterical
Kellon tries to allay the priest's fears.  "Rest assured, Father, that I do not aim to led them astray from Lathander... Just to remind them that gods are watching even when the sun is not shining." 

He bows his turtle head toward Father Lucian.  "I am ready, Father." 
RandomWombat
 "I've no fear of that. Only of the public's response,"  the priest clarifies in turn. He shakes his head,  "But I believe that they will accept it, should it come from the Vampire Killer. So consider my worries washed away." 

Father Lucian places his holy symbol upon Kellon's forehead and speaks slowly and clearly in prayer,  "Morninglord, your humble servant beseeches thee once more. The fetters that have bound this beast may thou reinforce, that this slayer of monsters need not struggle against the monster within." 

A roiling pit of anger bubbles inside of Kellon as the beast's influence struggles against the cleric's spell. But no matter the wolf's snarling, the leash grows stronger by the Morninglord's light. Perhaps soon he will learn to quelch the monster himself with Poseidon's deluge.

Letting out a long breath, Father Lucian returns the holy symbol to his neck.  "It is done. You should be well for a few days more." 
 "We should deal with the Baron. So that we can climb to see the Abbot..."  the portly preacher's voice is filled with a hollow, aching pain. He yearns to return his son to life, as well. And both of their answers may lie with the Abbot.
Prehysterical
Father Lucian's pun (accidental or otherwise) causes the corners of Kellon's beak to curl as much as they can. The beast's anger is like a pain in his gut, but it thankfully fades away. Donavich's assertion, however, draws a sharp look from Kellon.

 "The Baron needs dealt with, aye, but we must attend to the living first. The Captain is still alive and probably thinks that we are dead by now. Your boy will get his chance at the abbey, but not before our crew is reunited!" 
RandomWombat
Donavich puffs out a breath, and his mouth flattens into a thin line.  "Gweyir said your captain's letter came from Krezk. The abbey rests above the village of Krezk - so we can find my boy his healer  and  track down your captain at the same time. Come,"  he grumbles, offering the other Father a bow of his head and then takes a brief knee before the Morninglord's alter, then shuffles back out into the rain.

 "I will not be far behind,"  Father Lucian assures, beginning to ascend the ladder once more with his volunteer's assistance.


Another refreshing trek through the rain. The cool, wet air accompanies them all the way back to the Blue Water. A sign hanging upon the doorknob reads ' Closed to non-guests, gone to Festival ' and the usual smell of liquor and cooked food does not greet them as they enter. The quiet establishment is occupied only by their group, gathered around the dining area drying off, and a man behind the counter wearing dark glasses.

Spider is standing up against the counter and eating some raw meat, while the rest of them only have mugs of water with them at the table.

  "Kellon!"   Gweyir waves him over.   "Grab a seat, and grab a drink... of water. And let's go over the plan."  

The shaded man behind the counter leans back in his wooden chair, balanced against the wall behind him.  "Tap and kitchen's closed 'till after the festival. But guests can still gather here."  He lowers his glasses a little to peer over at Spider, then pushes them back up.  "Made an exception for the 'little' guy since that doesn't require me to cook." 
  "Pouring from a cask doesn't require you to brew the drinks."  

The inn-watcher just shrugs with a non-committal  "Mph." 
Prehysterical
Ah, of course... Donavich had said that. Kellon feels embarrassed at having stuck his clawed foot into his beak, but pride keeps him from properly apologizing. He bids farewell to Lucian before leaving the chapel.

Back at the inn, Kellon takes a seat at the table. Before any talk of conspiracy can begin, however, Kellon fixes the man behind the counter with an incredulous stare.  "If anyone wanted a drink of bloody water, they could go out into the rain and open their mouths to the sky!"  He shakes his head before turning back to the others.  "And what 'plan' do we have, exactly? Let's be honest... Even with as miserable as people are against the Baron, the guard will not support a mutiny instigated by outsiders, vampire slayers or no. I say we let the Baron make a fool of himself before we attempt anything rash. Father Lucian has given me permission to lead a prayer after his blessing to the Morninglord. Perhaps that will give us the opening that we need." 
RandomWombat
Kellon's incredulity is met with only a half-hearted wave of a hand by the shades-wearing man.  "People are funny sometimes." 

Turning from its position at the counter, Spider chitters,  "Why don't we tie them all up and we won't let them go until they say sorry!" 

Pulling out the seat next to Ismark, Donavich sits himself down and leans back with a sigh.  "Brute force will not win us the peoples' respect. I believe that Kellon has the right of it. We need a chance to plead our case to the townsfolk and the guard if we want to sway them from the Baron." 
  "I am also in favor of this plan,"   the young nobleman raises his hand.   "This town doesn't need an ugly, armed revolt. If we can force the Baron to see his error and step down willingly, we can avoid any bloodshed."  
 "Do you want us to do anything in the meantime, Kellon?"  Ireena asks, her hands folded neatly on the table in front of her.  "We could talk to people, try to stir up dissent?" 
Prehysterical
 "If we start going around talking to the townsfolk before the festival, the baron's guards might report us,"  Kellon points out.  "I don't want the Baron to get any advance warning. It will be like blood in the water for the sharks.

The one thing that  absolutely  must happen is that the 'party-pooper' he has in custody must be released. While the Baron is out at the Festival, that is our opening. Ismark, Ireena, what are the chances that his hollow-eyed thug will follow him outside? The Baron's wife, Lydia, seems to be reasonable. If some of you could speak with her, and appeal to her as a mother, she might let our young man go. I aim to keep the Baron  very  occupied at the Festival. Only fitting to rock the boat on a day like today." 
RandomWombat
  "The large man is Izek Strazni. Captain of the Vallaki Guard,"   Ismark nods,   "He will be at the festival ensuring the Baron's safety. Of this I have little doubt. The discovery of the hidden vampire nest has the Baron on edge, and jumping at shadows."  

Drumming her fingers on the table, Ireena hums and leans back.  "Yeah. I can speak to Lydia. We've built up a bit of rapport since my brother and I have been staying there."  She gets up, adjusting the straps on her breastplate and fidgeting with her gloves.  "I ought to hurry back and catch her before she leaves for the festival too, or I might have to break in." 
  "I wish to be there when it comes time to speak to the Baron. I've known him for many years, I think I can be of help,"   though he volunteers for this duty, Ismark glances over at Ireena, clearly worried about leaving her on her own, particularly with talk of breaking in. The look doesn't go unnoticed.

 "I can chaperone, I suppose,"  the undead warrior speaks up from the table off to the side, his heart not entirely in it even as he tries to summon up some of his usual goodwill.  "Watching this  flop  of a festival would only deepen my mood... and if it comes to worst, someone may notice 'me' and we have mob on our hands,"  he doesn't outright mention his undead status with the bar-watcher nearby, but the meaning is clear enough.

  "Alright. To the festival!"   throwing back a mug of water, Gweyir gets up to follow Ireena and Sokol out. Spider picks up the rest of the steak impaled on a pair of fangs and scurries after her, Father Donavich moving a little slower and Ismark taking a moment to adjust his own armor and belt to comfort as he walks to the door.


At the heart of Vallaki, the festival is (reluctantly) bustling. Guards posted around the perimeter keep a watch on events, raindrops pinging off of the broad brims of their metal helmets. The market square is populated by peddlers and merchants hawking their wares from beneath cover. Selections of pastries, fish, and gaudy baubles.

Among the other sellers is a curious sight. A rotund man in a colorful, patched shirt of purple and green, almost like a court jester if he were to be adorned with a few bells. He sits beneath a cloth tarp beside a rack of macabre toys. A headless doll accompanied by a sack of stick-on wooden heads, accompanied by a toy guillotine. A miniature gallows with a trapdoor and weighted 'hanged man'. A wooden nesting doll that appears strangely normal amidst its grim company; but who knows what is inside. A child's mobile adorned with miniature bats on strings. A music box with a little merry-go-round on top of it, displaying snarling wolves chasing naughty children. Even a ventriloquist's dummy in the shape of Strahd von Zarovich.

No children have come to look at the man's wares. In spite of the poor business he keeps on a smile - except when he thinks nobody is watching, and his face slips into a tired expression. His only company is a small monkey wearing a ballerina's tutu, playing with an werewolf doll with X-ed eyes and a stitched shut mouth.

Across the square is the stage where the 'party-poopers' were in stocks the other night. Izek is leaned against a tree next to the Baron, who is trying to shield a set of notes from the rain as he refreshes his memory. Just past them are the children of the orphanage, the younger ones wearing homemade flower costumes that have become sodden with water, their petals drooping pathetically. Father Lucian and his assistant are just arriving, splitting up as the Father approaches the Baron by the stage. Seated in front of the stage and holding an umbrella is Ernst Larnak, the greasy-haired man who'd parleyed with Kellon earlier. Behind the stage an older noblewoman with sharp features is standing beneath a dead tree and an awning that shields her from some of the rain.

The centerpiece of the square is a large wicker sun mounted on a set of wooden stakes to the right side of the festival.
Prehysterical
Thank the gods, both for Ireena's willingness and Ismark's trust! Kellon wishes that he has some words to alleviate Sokol's slump, but what comfort could he offer to a man whose daughter was a willing prisoner of Strahd? While the others walk out into the rain with apprehension, Kellon is reinvigorated by the water. By now, the trident in his hand is like an extension of his body as he taps a rhythm on the pavestones.

In any other circumstance, Kellon might have been moved to investigate the strange man's stall out of sheer pity. He seems like an all right sort, if a bit strange... Once his eyes lock onto the soaking wet children, however, Kellon's beak grinds together in a flare of anger. The tortle stomps forward, marching purposefully toward the conversation between Father Lucian and the Baron.
RandomWombat
 "...sermon, I will blow the horn to bring the crowd's attention,"  the Baron is relaying to Father Lucian, his notes tucked under one arm to shield them from the water trailing down between the branches.  "The blasted musicians never arrived. Do you think your chapel's choir can perform?" 
 "In this weather-" 
 "So we get them a tarp. Cover the stage,"  waving a hand at the soggy wooden edifice, the old man pauses in his discussion when Kellon stomps over, the tortle's approach very audible against the hard pavement. Heaving a sigh and coughing into the crook of his elbow, Baron Vargas asks in a calm but unmistakably irate voice,  "What brings you here? Decided to enjoy the festivities after all?" 
Prehysterical
While the Baron might be peeved, Kellon's voice is like the rumbling of distant thunder as he glares at the Baron openly.  "I think it fair to say that,  quite literally , I am the only person here that is enjoying the weather."  Indeed, despite the chill of the rain, Kellon seems uncaring of the downpour.  "And if you  must  know, I am here to assist Father Lucian here with the prayers. On a day such as today, not paying tribute to the Stormlord is the height of folly... and Poseidon does not suffer fools.

Speaking of which, ensure that yon babes are put under cover. The poor wee things will catch their death of cold in those outfits." 
RandomWombat
Looking behind him at the soaking wet children, the Baron frowns and nods.  "Hrm. Yes, bring them inside and warm them up. Be a while before the festival dance yet,"  he waves his hand, dismissing the orphanage caretaker, who bows and brings them into one of the nearby buildings.

Ismark and Father Donavich join Kellon alongside the Baron, while Gweyir goes to chaperone Spider who is distracted by inspecting the market with interest.

  "Baron,"   Ismark greets the man, nodding respectfully.   "I hope my friend's request is acceptable? He has aided me in slaying several evils in this land, as part of my otryad."  
 "Tch, very well. But ensure your  friend  watches his tongue on stage. I will brook no negativity to bring down the celebrations,"  the old man begrudgingly agrees, running his fingernails over his wet, balding scalp.

 "Then please, join me on stage... or perhaps it would be better to stand before the stage,"  Father Lucian corrects himself as he steps onto the wet wooden steps, which creak under him. Kellon's gravity may be enough to punch a hole in the old stage.
Prehysterical
Now that the Baron has at least given the children a chance to warm up, Kellon's feelings toward the man lessen from wanting to stomp his foot down the Baron's throat to merely resenting his stubborn pride. That said, Kellon's hiss tells the Baron exactly what he thinks of having his prayers censored.   'Bring down the celebration', indeed... Blubber-for-brains!  

At Father Lucian's suggestion, Kellon tests a step gingerly and hears the wood groan like the death knell of a ship's hull.  "Aye... Best I not go on stage. A preacher falling during a sermon is a bad omen by anyone's estimation." 
RandomWombat
As the two clerics take their positions, the townsfolk around the square reluctantly gather around in front of the stage, some of them taking seats on the soggy benches and displaying expressions of immediate regret. The rest watch from the edges of the open square, and some from surrounding balconies.

Standing festively beside an execution block, Father Lucian raises up his hands and addresses the crowd, raising his voice over the howling wind and splattering rain.

 "Sons and daughters of Vallaki. I know your spirits are dampened by the rain, but I ask you to open your hearts and listen all the same. For through our darkest nights and our bleakest days, we must remember that the sun will ever rise on the morrow. No greater proof of this have we than our guests here today,"  reaching out a hand, Father Lucian motions to Kellon, and sweeps it up to indicate Gweyir and Spider.

 "Even as strangers, they stepped forward to strike down a darkness that had taken root in the very heart of our fair town. Spawn of the vampire who lie in wait, no doubt to strike on this, the day we...  hoped  would be brightest."  Bringing his hands in front of him, he clasps them around the sun symbol hanging against his breast.  "So I say to you, my flock. On this day, when the sky opens and pours out its tears on our streets, take a moment to listen. Listen to the words of a priest of the wind and the rain. And may we find answers together." 

Looking down at Kellon, the priest opens the floor for him.
Prehysterical
Conscious of the eyes of the baron and the people on him, Kellon steps forward. Preaching is his holy work, a task entrusted to him by Poseidon. On a day such as this, how could he not do his god justice?

 "There are perhaps some that might accuse me, a foreign stranger and a herald of the Tempest, of bringing this deluge down upon your town's precious Sun Festival. I swear within lightning's reach that your sodden fortunes are not my doing, for not even I control the weather! From what I understand, this was to be a day of celebration, of giving thanks to your Lathander for the many blessings of sun and crops... and the one sure banishment for the blood-sucking parasites that plague your very existence.

As someone who was born anew in the storm, let me part the clouds for just a moment to reveal the blessing that has been hidden from you. Just as your crops need the sun to flourish, so too should you be thankful for the blessing of water. It is more than lakes, more than wells, more than rivers. It is the very essence of life itself. This may sound incredible, but I came from a realm where fresh water is a scarcity. I have seen men die from lack of it, seen crops fail, and seen lush islands reduced to barren rock in its absence. Do not curse the rain, for your lives would be far worse in its absence.

Beyond the rain itself is the storm. The storm is a  test ! It rounds out our rough, unrefined aspects and leaves us purified! There is no room for doubt! Either stay the course or be swept away! In these moments when the sky cracks with thunder and the wind howls louder than any wolf, we find strength we didn't know we had! We may curse it and fight it and lament what it takes, but how can we appreciate those moments of calm and quiet without it?

Of course, this measly downpour is nothing compared to the real cloud that hangs over your lives. I speak of Lord Strahd, that  child-snatching  bastard,"  Kellon pointed emphatically in the direction of the vampire's castle.  "Him and his foul brood are no natural storm, no test of endurance or will. They are a plague upon your lives, who do nothing but take and leave broken families in their wake. Strahd wants you to be scared. He sees himself as a thunderstorm, scaring you all into your homes like babes at the mere thought of standing up to him.

It is all a lie! The most vehement vampire's screams are nothing to the peal of thunder! Strahd fancies himself a living god, but only a weak man drags down those around him instead of lifting them up! Strahd is your test! Will you grovel like beggars at his approach, cower like children at his displeasure? Or will you stand up for ourselves, look into the eye of the storm, and stare unblinking?

Strahd truly believes that this world would not function without one such as him. Bollocks, malarkey, I say! He lies to you, saying that you need him. You don't need him! You would be better off without him! But that change cannot be affected by sheltering quietly within your walls. Do not hide behind them! Stand atop them and let him know that his reign of terror does not go unchecked!" 

Kellon raised a clawed fist in the rain as he cast his gaze over the crowd.  "We will fight for you, for an evil such as this is an affront to all creation! Sunlight may a vampire's mortal enemy, but lightning serves just as much to scorch tainted flesh from bone! Sun and storm will put aside their differences to scour away this filth, but it is all for naught if your hearts are not in it.

This is your time! This is your test! Stand up to tyranny in all its forms! Only endure what you must and suffer no trespasses! Together, we will weather this storm and the sun shall finally break over a land that has been rid of the malignant curse that calls himself  Strahd !" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Spending Inspiration on what I am guessing is a Persuasion roll for the speech.

 (1d20+3)[ 5 ] 
 (1d20+3)[ 5 ] 

...You have got to be kidding me.
 
RandomWombat
The faces of the people, drenched in rain and clinging hair, draped in sopping bonnets and caps, stare at Kellon where he stands before the stage. Throughout the speech, they look uncertain at best. Not offended, at least, by his preaching. But there is no resounding cheer of a roused rabble. The men are tired. The women are nervous. The children are indifferent.

His party members stand and nod their heads, in a show of support, and Father Lucian places a hand over his heart in salute. The kids from the orphanage can be heard attempting to clap from the door of their shelter, though none of the crowd joins in more than half-heartedly. But there is one face that stands out amidst the rest.

Baron Vargas looks up at Kellon, bald head unbowed by the rain, whether by virtue of inspired confidence or his own swollen pride.  "Surprisingly well-spoken, vampire killer. I must remind that attempts to overthrow Strahd by force have failed in the past, have seen towns razed and good young men sent to their deaths- I am  not  saying it does not need to be done, eventually. But it will take more than pretty words. It will take a plan. Until then,"  he turns to address the crowd as he walks past Kellon and the stage.  "Until then! Vallaki will stand as it always has, a bastion of peace in the storm. All will be well citizens, all will be well!" 

Making his way to the giant sun-shaped bonfire, he signals to a guard nearby, who produces a torch kept dry beneath an overhang and lights it.  "To the Morninglord! Let our blazing sun be a symbol of our devotion!"  he explains, as the guard lights the torch and thrusts it into the bonfire.

There is silence, as the fire does not catch. The torch sizzles out within the confines of the wet wood. The Baron stares at it as if he cannot believe it would defy his orders. Then, someone in the crowd chuckles, and his fiery gaze is turned to the assembled masses.  " Who  was that? Who?! Who thinks this is funny?"  the man shouts in indignation, eyes scanning the crowd.  "I want whoever laughed brought here now, to the front, so we can all see their face! Drag this coward into the light!"  he commands.

The crowd begins whispering and chattering amongst themselves, looking between one another with nervous eyes. Everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop, looking for a scapegoat as the Baron stands fuming.


At the other side of the square, Ireena and Sokol arrive, accompanied by the Baroness and a sullen looking Baronet (even before accounting for his sopping wet hair) clutching a blue raincoat around his shoulders.
Prehysterical
It is not the pouring rain that dampens Kellon's spirits. The townsfolk's fear, their reticence... It is like a cold bucket of water to the face. These people are afraid, sermon or not. Strahd's grip on them holds even all these miles from his lair.

He is surprised to see the Baron take his speech so well. Kellon thought that the man would have protested the rebellious talk, but at least he recognized the inevitable necessity of revolution. Just as Kellon is beginning to respect the man, the Baron's ego washes away that goodwill. "All will be well",  indeed !

When the torch is produced to place into the bonfire, Kellon briefly wonders if there will be some miracle of Lathander that will cause it to light in such a downpour. If the sun god is looking down at this debacle, however, he is certainly not giving his blessing. Kellon hears the torch sputter like a dying sailor and sees the look of idiotic shock on the Baron's face.

The one-two punch of mundane and ridiculous  cracks  him. After so much death and misery, this is the highest form of cosmic comedy. As the Baron whirls to find the perpetrator, his ranting is interrupted by a new set of laughter. It is a hearty laugh, one born from the depths of the belly. Kellon leans on his trident as he struggles to keep himself upright, his entire body wracked with mirth. At this point, the tortle couldn't stop laughing even if he wanted to, consequences be damned.

When the tortle finally recovers his composure, coughing and gasping for air, he points a mocking claw at the Baron.  "Methinks you ask too much of your lord, Baron! This pile of wood is more water-logged than a shipwreck! Have a sense of humor, will ye?" 
RandomWombat
A resounding hush covers the crowd like a weighted blanket. Rain pounds at the world in a steady drumbeat, and the Baron's fist curls inward, squeezing nails against his palm until red runs down his fingers and drips from the knuckle to the cobblestone below. A flash streaks above and thunder booms.

 "Monster! Monster on the loose!"   "Monster cat! Mamaaa!"  two voices snap the tension like a rubber band and everyone's faces turn to the north of the square, where two weasely looking men Kellon vaguely recognizes from the bar scamper and slip over the wet stone pavement, faces writ with panic-


 "Him! It was him who laughed! Please, just punish him and stop!"  one of the women hawking wares points at a guard next to the well, who glares at her as his face goes pale. He turns to run and-


 "What are you blithering about?"  the two panicked young men skid to a stop before a stern old woman, who chastises them for-


A thunk. A metallic scrape. A 'tink'. A wet thud.  "You bastard! Where is my son?!"  a raw voice screams over the pouring rain. An old woman in a bonnet and soaking wet blouse is holding a crossbow, which has left a glancing nick upon the Baron's armor and skidded away over the pavement to pierce the wet wood of the stage behind him. The weapon shakes in her trembling grasp. Metal rings as the Baron unsheathes his saber, and-


A ferocious yowl pulls eyes back to the north. Fur hanging from it in cascading waterfalls, a feline larger than a wolf is standing on the stone, vicious claws scraping and scrabbling for purchase. It opens a mouth framed with teeth the size of shortswords and looses another angry challenge at those nearby. Children scream inside the building and Feddick slams the door shut, staring petrified at the cat as it turns to the sound and flattens itself, ready to pounce at the first one to make a move-


 "Death to the Baron!"  a shout comes from one of the balcony seats ringing the square. A group of wealthy looking individuals have thrown off coats to reveal black-painted leather armor and donned masks shaped like the beet red faces of horned, grinning devils. Beneath them, one of the town guards throws off his helmet and dons the same kind of mask.  "Death to the Baron!"  more shouts follow from the south, a group of less well dressed individuals marching in carrying torches and pitchforks. Some of them are even up on the wet rooftops holding wooden farm bows.

 "Die, Baroness!"  one of the guards on the balconies has slipped on a mask and is now leveling a crossbow at Lydia, below.


Chaos has erupted in the square. But somehow, everything has slowed and frozen. Kellon is the first to act...

 
 Spoiler: Kellon Perception 
Faint blue flames have begun to flicker around the edges of the sun-effigy. He can feel a swirling in the air. The Mist churns, outside of the walls, and the clouds wind like a whirlpool above.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - n20

Margarita, the Sabre-toothed Tiger - 21

Barovian Hunters - 20
Nikolai Wachter - 19
Milivoj - 19
Ernst Larnac - 17
Father Lucian - 17
Willemina - 17

Spider - 16
Ismark - 16

Cultist Guards - 16
Karl Wachter - 15
Guardsman Lars Kjurls, who laughed - 14
Town Guards - 14
Fiona Wachter - 12
Baroness Lydia - 10

Ireena - 9
Father Donavich - 8
Sokol - 8

Cult Fanatics - 7
Cultist Rioters - 6

Baronet Victor - 5

Gweyir - 4

Baron Vargas - n1
Izek Strazni - n1
Bystanders - 0
 
Prehysterical
The worst that Kellon was expecting was for the Baron to demand his arrest. It seemed like the gods had had enough of today's farce, however, for events spiral out of control faster than Kellon can process. A giant cat, demon-masked cultists, the angry mother attempting to assassinate the Baron, an angry mob... and that was nothing to say of the strange blue flames and the appearance of the Mist! The very air itself coils. In that moment of calm, Kellon's mind races on how to react.

In that moment, Kellon feels a pull. All this storm energy, just waiting for his touch. The tortle does so... and the clouds above suddenly form a cylinder. This storm shifts to  his  will. As the funnel forms over the clustered cultists, electricity crawls over Kellon's scales and his blue eyes glow like a lantern in the fog.

Even in the midst of all the pandemonium, the cleric's booming voice can be heard over all others.   "SKYREND!"   Kellon draws his shield and points his trident at the cultists. There is a blinding flash and a deafening crack as a bolt of lightning crashes down as if hand-delivered by Poseidon himself.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon casts  Call Lightning  to seize control of the storm. He centers the funnel over the table below the wealthy cultist (catching him and the other two cultists nearby).

He activates Channel Divinity to automatically deal  40  lightning damage. If they pass a DC 14 Dex save, that is reduced to  20 .

Kellon also interacts to ready his wooden shield.
 
RandomWombat
The moment of stillness as Kellon's mind speeds ahead of the rest of the world comes to a crashing halt as he utters his invocation. A shattering boom strikes the table betwixt three of the grandstanding cultists upon the balcony, sending their charred bodies flying alongside fragments of wood and a splatter of wasted wine. The one cultists left standing, spared only by his slight distance from his peers, stands shaken with his teeth buzzing from the static that still hangs in the air.

  "Sunlight Spear!"   Father Donavich follows Kellon's lead, conjuring a trio of gleaming javelins of heat and light and hurling them up to pierce the final cultist. Though scorched by them, the cultist remains standing.


Backing away fearfully, Willemina shakily loads a new bolt into her weapon and fires again. The Baron leans away and it scrapes past along his breastplate again, failing to pierce to vulnerable flesh beneath. A nearby guard in a cult mask runs up behind him, but Vargas catches the movement out of the corner of his eye and twists, parrying the foe's spear with his dueling saber.  "Do you believe me a helpless old man, you traitorous dogs?"  he spits.

The loyalist guard next to the Baron steps in and delivers a strike to his traitorous counterpart.

The balcony cultist regains his focus and conjures a glowing sacrificial dagger that floats in the air, slashing at the baron. The old man is able to deflect it, but the opening it creates lets the cultist throw a knife down to scratch the man along the arm.

Running past the bonfire, Gweyir rushes towards Willemina while the Baron is occupied, and before he can reach her.

Vargas slices the traitor guard with his saber, dropping him to the ground, then reaches up and launches a mote of flame that sears the already-burned cultist on the balcony.


Leaping at Feddick, the tiger lashes out with a heavy, clawed paw. It slices through the man's chest and he collapses onto the cobblestone, like a doll with its strings cut. Though not quick enough to save the man, and badly out of their depth, a pair of hunters among the attendees rush to the market stalls and begin crafting slings using pieces of canvas, with which to fend off the wild cat from afar.

The upstairs window of the building the children fled into opens, and young Milivoj drops a flower vase onto the cat's head.  "You damn murdering cat!" 
 "Fool boys! Run!"  the stern old woman commands, and one of the boys is quick to obey, taking off down a different side alley to hide from the feline's view - his brother not far behind. The squirrely agent, Ernst Larnak, likewise takes off in a seemingly randomly chosen direction. One of the guards nearby him takes a jab at a rioter, but his strike hesitates just a second too much and the cultist sidesteps. His efforts are rewarded with a jab of a pithfork, and an arrow from the rooftops.


Father Lucian turns from one direction to another, trying to determine where to lend his aid. In the end he decides to strike against the tiger, launching a shining bolt of energy that strikes it from behind as it yowls up at Milivoj. Ismark follows the Father's lead, rushing in and drawing his sword and raising his shield. His first strike lands, but the animal whips around in time to swerve away from his follow-up. A town guard comes in to help, managing to land a small scratch on the cat with his fearful pokes.

The old woman steps forward and performs mystical gestures into the air, chains of light slithering out to wind around the cat's neck like a collar. But she shakes off the attempt at binding.


The traitor guard whose crossbow is leveled at the baroness soon finds himself falling against the railing, striking his head and falling to the ground with a foaming mouth. Spider withdraws its fangs, having swiftly ascended the building behind the would-be assassin.  "Be safe miss!" 
 "Watch over them!"  Ireena shouts back at Sokol, as she runs off across the plaza towards the Baron. Instead of staying back, Victor runs out into the middle of the square before freezing with indecision about what he actually intends to do now that he's there.

The undead man steps into place in front of the cowering baroness, drawing his own weapons.

Pushing off of his tree, Izek circles around it, disregarding the tiger and marching across the square to regroup with the Baron. He leers at Ireena from behind as he passes, then addresses his lord.   "Baron. What are your orders?"  
 "Kill the traitors. Then arrest her, and the bastards who laughed at our misfortune,"  Baron Vargas points at Willemina.  "I want them brought in alive to answer publically."  Izek nods and readies his axe.


Far from the worst of the excitement, Guardsman Lars spins to face the oncoming torch-bearing rioters. He sweeps the butt of his spear and knocks out a woman in a cult mask. Not to be outdone, his partner across the well meets the second rioter and knocks their pitchfork away with his spear, before delivering a helmeted headbutt that sends the cultist to the ground with a bloody nose.

Archers from the rooftops shoot down at them from above, landing a shot on the nameless guard.


What civilians cannot flee gather in the market, trying to distance themselves from the fighting on all sides.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon casts Call Lightning and uses Channel Divinity, blasting the three balcony cultists for  40  damage each. They all fail their saves and are blasted down in a single spell.

Margarita claw slashes Feddick for  13  damage, killing him due to massive damage overflow.

Barovian Hunters fashion makeshift slings with which to fight.
Nikolai Wachter flees.
Milivoj moves upstairs in the house and drops a pot on Margarita's head, dealing  6  damage.
Father Lucian casts Guiding Bolt, dealing  17  damage and marking Margarita.
Willemina shoots at the Baron, but misses.

Spider performs a bonus action Dash and attacks Cultist Guard, dealing  22  damage for an instant kill.
Ismark attacks Margarita twice, hitting once for  8  damage.

Cultist Guard attacks the Baron, but misses.

Karl Wachter flees.
Guard Lars attacks a Rioter, dealing  9  non-lethal damage and knocking her out.
Town Guard attacks a Rioter, dealing  13  non-lethal damage with a critical hit and knocking him out.
Town Guard attacks Cultist Guard, dealing  5  damage.
Town Guard attacks Rioter, but misses.
Town Guard attacks Margarita, dealing  4  damage.

Fiona Wachter attempts to cast Charm Monster, but Margarita resists.

Baroness Lydia cowers and Dodges.

Ireena Dashes.
Father Donavich casts Scorching Ray, dealing  14  damage to the last Cult Fanatic on the balcony.
Sokol readies an attack if an enemy attempts to approach Lydia and Victor.

Cult Fanatic casts Spiritual Weapon, which misses the Baron. He throws a dagger, dealing  3  damage to the Baron.
Two Rioter Archers shoot Town Guard, and one hits for  6  damage.
Rioter Archer shoots Town Guard, dealing  5  damage.
Two Cult Rioters Dash.
Cult Rioter hits Town Guard for  2  damage.

Baronet Victor Dashes.
Gweyir Dashes.

The Baron slashes Cultist Guard for  9  damage and a KO, then deals  10  damage to the Cult Fanatic with a Firebolt.
Izek Dashes.

It is Kellon's turn.
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - n20

Margarita, the Sabre-toothed Tiger - 21

Barovian Hunters - 20
Nikolai Wachter - 19
Milivoj - 19
Ernst Larnac - 17
Father Lucian - 17
Willemina - 17

Spider - 16
Ismark - 16

Cultist Guards - 16
Karl Wachter - 15
Guardsman Lars Kjurls, who laughed - 14
Town Guards - 14
Fiona Wachter - 12
Baroness Lydia - 10

Ireena - 9
Father Donavich - 8
Sokol - 8

Cult Fanatics - 7
Cultist Rioters - 6

Baronet Victor - 5

Gweyir - 4

Baron Vargas - n1
Izek Strazni - n1
Bystanders - 0
 
Prehysterical
Any sense of satisfaction that Kellon gets from watching the broken, smoking corpses of the cultists fly like birds is dashed as he hears the sound of claws tearing into soft flesh. His heart sinks as he sees Feddick struck down like a soggy sack. He had chosen wrong... and a good man had paid for it with his life.

Eager to lash out, Kellon looks with hatred upon the remaining cultist on the balcony, who has the temerity to shrug off light and flame.  "Skyrend,"  Kellon commands, and again lightning flashed down on the balcony. This time, the bolt is centered on the cultist, who will not have the good luck to be out of reach.

Seeing the baron's son run into the middle of the plaza, Kellon rushes toward him as he skirts around the seats.  "Keep your head down, lad!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon moves down beside Baronet Victor. He can't exactly intercept anything with his shield, but at least Victor isn't by himself.

 Call Lightning  is recentered on the cultist fanatic.
 (4d10)[ 24 ]  lightning damage, DC 14 Dex save halves
 
RandomWombat
Another bolt, this one less cataclysmic but no less effective, strikes the balcony. The cultist twitches mid-draw of a second dagger and convulses, then falls to the ground. When Kellon approaches Victor, the young man pales - an impressive feat considering his already bookish complexion.  "D- j- Giant turtle!"  in a startled panic, he runs in the other direction.


Head swiveling between the two men cornering it against the building, the tiger bares her teeth and lashes out a claw at Ismark who has left the most wounds upon her side. The practiced warrior raises his sword, the flashing blade fending off the animal's strike while his shield protects his flank from any follow-up.

A loose stone flies past and impacts the wall, as a hunter tries to lend them aid. From above, Milivoj heaves a wooden side table out of the window, which lands on the tiger, briefly distracting the animal. A glowing sphere of light impacts her, followed by Ismark's weapon.

As the tiger's movements grow weaker and her strength fades, the old woman clenches her fist. A pale hoarfrost begins to form upon the animal's coat and steaming breath exhales from her mouth, heat sapped from her.


One of the hunters is cornered by a pair of rioters in devil masks, as he finishes tying his makeshift sling and loading it with a weighty coin purse from a market stall.  "You'd best not be thinking of making a stand. Pick the winning side here- the Baron is a fool!" 
 "You're the fools, there's a wild animal on the loose! Get out of my way!"  the hunter tries to shove his way past, but they push back. Baring his teeth, the man grabs a wooden post and wrenches it free from the tarp over some baked goods, to smack one of the men with. The other one suddenly finds himself caught in a net of sticky webbing that drops down on his head from above.

 "Hey! That's the Baron's brat! Forget the hunter, get him!"  the webbed rioter uses his torch to free himself from the webs, and moves to cut Victor off as he runs aimlessly. The other sticks his pitchfork into the hunter's stomach, pulling it free and leaving the man to collapse in a growing pool of blood.

Father Donavich, casting his gaze around the plaza to find somewhere he can help, spies the Baronet's impending assault and begins a huffing sprint over to lend aid.


South of the scene, one of the guards fights to find off the rioters despite his wounds. His armor protects him from a pair of clumsy blows, and he slowly begins to turn his fight around.


Lars moves into cover behind the well, drawing his crossbow. A shot is fired up, scraping past the rooftop ledge and across a rioter's cheek. The guard's partner leaps behind a wall for cover of his own, striking an approaching woman in a devil mask as he moves. In spite of the wall in the way, an arrow from the side pierces the guard's armor and he falls upon the stairs.


The Baron's head swivels and he stares down Willemina, now with the imposing Izek at his back. The old woman's hands shake and she drops the crossbow, backing away. The nearby town guard approaches her,  "Submit to arrest, ma'am." 

Before he can arrest her, however, Gweyir runs in and puts herself between the man and his quarry.   "Step back. Nobody else is getting torture or worse over these idiotic laws!"   At the same time, Ireena steps between the Baron and the peasant woman, joining Gweyir's stand.  "Not a scratch on you, and her son is being unlawfully imprisoned. You're not in the right here, Baron." 

Baron Vargas Vallakovich's face remains implacable, now. A strange, serene calm has come over him, in place of the impotent anger. And somehow far more frightening. He reaches down with his free hand, picking up the damp, doused torch and holding it. A few drops of blood from his nail-bitten palm run down the wood and leave glowing trails of blue embers.

 "I  am  the law. I am the  Baron . This is my town, and  I  say when the sun rises over Vallaki."  With the certainty of a madman who believes entirely in his lie, Vargas thrusts the torch into the effigy, and the false sun erupts with his cursed claim.

  The Powers answer.  

The rain scatters as if blown away by a sudden gust, and where once was pounding, wet violence upon the stones is now silence broken only by grunts and clangs and sounds of struggle. An eerie blue light fills the town square, lit by flame that licks at the sky but does not crackle or burn.

The ripple that broke the rain carries up, up into the sky, and like a spear pierces through the clouds. Healthy, yellow sunlight beams down upon Vallaki Square for the first time since... perhaps, the curse that Strahd laid upon this land. And then a sickly blue spot appears at the heart of the sun, spreading its spidery limbs.

 "You who have sworn to serve this town! Sworn on your knees to me! Listen now, listen well,"  Baron Vargas shouts, his voice no longer raw with emotion but booming with authority. A glowing crown of wriggling blue embers now rings his bald head.  "And be you traitor or loyal, you will obey. Seize the dissidents, one and all, and bring them to me upon their knees." 

Azure fire erupts in the eyes of the Vallaki guard, even those dead or laid low upon the cobblestone, save for Izek Strazni himself who now lumbers towards Ireena (and Lars Kjuris, whose crimes have perhaps absolved him of his oaths). Dead men contort their arms and legs at impossible angles and begin to drag themselves from the cold ground. Blue light begins to course through their veins, and they move with greater confidence than before to obey their Lord.

Izek brings his battleaxe to bear with both hands and swings it, striking the flat across Ireena's face in an attempt to knock her out. When it prove unsuccessful he swings again, but she raises her sword to deflect the blow.

 
 Spoiler: Kellon 
The Mists that surround Vallaki clash, swirling in a column that rises impossibly to the sky. A pillar of chaos, and they in the town are its Eye, a plague-sick sun glaring down bleary-eyed from above. Two storms crash into one another, spinning in opposite directions, clawing at one another like hungry beasts.

The Wolf rumbles. Its growling voice is locked up deep, and small.    "Madness roots. A Lord of Vallaki challenges the Devil of Barovia for this domain. Let me loose of these chains, stormbringer!"   
 


Wisps of clouds still crackle between the otherwise open sky and the column of Mist, Kellon's thunderous spell unbroken by the fallen Baron's power. The common folk cower at the center of the square, baffled and afraid. Some lay themselves upon the ground, prostrating themselves and begging favor of the Baron. Others hide beneath carts and tables.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon uses a Call Lightning to blast Cult Fanatic for  24  damage, and a KO.

Margarita attacks Ismark with a claw, but misses.

Hunter hits Rioter for  4  damage.
Hunter slings at Margarita, but misses.
Nikolai Wachter vacates the area.
Milivoj drops furniture on Margarita for  4  damage.
Ernst Larnak vacates the area.
Father Lucian casts Guiding Bolt, blasting Margarita for  9  damage and marking her.
Willemina drops her weapon and backs away slowly.

Spider webs a Rioter from the rooftops.
Ismark slashes Margarita for  5  damage, twice.

Karl Wachter vacates the area.
Lars draws his crossbow and shoots Rioter Archer for  3  damage.
Town Guard hits Rioter for  6  damage.
Town Guard hits Rioter for  3  damage.
Fiona Wachter casts Frostbite, dealing  10  damage to Margarita and giving Disadvantage to her next attack.

The Baroness Dodges and remains in the corner.

Ireena interposes herself between Willemina and the Baron.
Father Donavich delays his action to see where he is needed.
Sokol guard the Baroness.

Rioter hits Town Guard for  5  damage and a KO.
Rioters miss Town Guards.
Rioter hits Hunter for  7  damage and a KO.
Rioter burns away the webbing as an action.

Baronet Victor Dashes away from Kellon.

Gweyir interposes herself with Willemina.

Nascent Darklord Vargas descends.
Izek Strazni strikes Ireena for  12  damage, then misses his second swing.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - n20

Margarita, the Sabre-toothed Tiger - 21

Barovian Hunters - 20
Milivoj - 19
Father Lucian - 17
Willemina - 17

Spider - 16
Ismark - 16

Solar Revenants - 16

Guardsman Lars Kjurls, who laughed - 14
Fiona Wachter - 12
Baroness Lydia - 10

Ireena - 9
Father Donavich - 8
Sokol - 8

Cult Fanatics - 7
Cultist Rioters - 6

Baronet Victor - 5

Gweyir - 4

Baron Vargas, Falling Darklord of Vallaki - n1
Izek Strazni - n1
Bystanders - 0
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: Kellon's Mind 
  You mocked me for resorting to the gods for strength. Why should I fall back to you?  
 


It's been easy to forget that not everyone in Barovia is used to the sight of a tortle. Kellon soon has much greater problems as the Baron... It's not clear what the man does. Kellon only sees the sunlight pierce the clouds, its light corrupted by some foul blue. He sees the living and the dead subsumed by the Baron's will. Only one thing is clear as Kellon points the head of his trident at the would-be Darklord.

 "You blaspheme against your own god, Baron! Skyrend!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon redirects  Call Lightning  to the square above and between the Baron and Izek. Unfortunately, the storm's dissipation means that it now only deals  (3d10)[ 10 ]  lightning damage (half on Dex save).
 
RandomWombat
The beast is pushed down, and Kellon grasps the faded power of his spell to send a bolt of lightning crashing down. Smaller now than the great pillars of light he had called before, it crackles over the Baron - though the man barely flinches. Izek throws his greatcloak in the way and steps away from the blast, absorbing some of the scorching heat. Ireena brings light into her blade and slashes at Izek, the man catching the blow on his mutated devil arm which takes only minimal damage.

 "Baron, what foul magic have you done?!"  Father Lucian calls out, an echo to Kellon's chastisement. With an invocation of his god, he pulls down a ray of sunlight from the sky which forms into a spear floating between the Baron and Izek.  "Halt this blasphemy at once and lower your weapons!" 
 "No man commands me,"  the Baron answers, parrying the spiritual weapon with his fencing sabre as it jabs at him. From behind cover of the stage, the stern old woman leans out and hurls two bolts of flashing green energy. One of them collides with the Baron, throwing his free arm to the side.  "More traitors for the pyre,"  he observes with no more anger than a man plucking weeds.

The guard next to Vargas turns and marches towards Kellon, raising his spear as an extended beam of light grows from the tip. He thrusts, but Kellon's shell is able to absorb the heat and deflect the blow.

Willemina pulls herself behind Gweyir, trying to make herself small and guard her vitals with her arms. The guard on the other side tries to jab at her past Gweyir, but the druid knocks his spear out of the way, allowing Willemina to dodge it.   "Get away from Ireena you creep,"   Gweyir conjures a pillar of silver light that engulfs Izek, burning the man. Her fey magic swirls around Ireena, but is able to do little but numb the sting of her wounds.

The Baron steps towards Father Lucian and the old woman hiding behind the stage, sweeping out his free hand. Blazing blue fire pours out, scorching them. Meanwhile, Izek steps out of the light pillar and takes another two swings at Ireena with the flat of his blade. She is ready for them this time, ducking and weaving around his heavy blows.


Sudden light pouring out of the guard next to Ismark is enough to catch the tigress' attention. She paws at the guard, but is too startled and blinded by the light to even make contact. She is snapped out of her stupor by another stone from the helpful hunter, which thwacks against her side. But before she can do anything more, Milivoj heaves a chair out the window and leans out to hurl it down at her, full force. The impact is finally enough to knock her off of her feat, and the tiger collapses under the weight of her wounds.

As the revenant guard turns to face him, Ismark looks at him in confusion.   "What has happened to you, man? Snap out of it!"   But the possessed guard merely raises his weapon, and Ismark is forced to strike first. His swings come with reluctance to hurt the man, but as Ismark realizes gentle force will not suffice he pushes forward with a pair of more forceful blows that send the man to the ground.

It is not long before the fallen guard is twitching, as the light inside forces his limbs to obey. Seeing that brute force is not going to work, Ismark turns and uses the opening to run towards the Baron - feet picking up speed as he notices Izek looming over Ireena.


Crawling down from the rooftops, Spider sinks its teeth into the ankle of one of the rioters, who goes stiff and falls to the floor as venom locks up his limbs.  "Sorry! You'll get better!"  Father Donavich clubs the other in the liver, causing the man to double over and fall to the ground in pain.

 "We have to stop the Baron,"  he calls to Spider, and the two of them rush to join Kellon.


From the rooftops, the guard Spider had paralyzed earlier picks up his crossbow and fires at Sokol. The bolt streaks down with searing light surrounding it, piercing the zombie's flesh. But the subject of his guarding is looking across the square in horror and rushes from behind his protective wall.  "Vargas!"  the Baroness cries out, running towards her maniacal husband.

Pulling out the bolt, Sokol looks up at the revenant.  "Guess it is you and me now, eh? Let us see who can get up more times."  He grabs onto the side of the building and hauls his stiff bones up the side with little grace, but limbs that care not for strain or exhaustion.


The risen or enhanced guards begin to strike down the rioting cultists with impunity. As one of Lars' former comrades turns towards him with murderous intent. Uncertain what to do, he lowers his weapon and runs towards the center of the square to join up with those fighting the mad Baron.  "What should I do?!"  he calls out to Kellon, recognizing the tortle as the famed vampire killer.

All that remains of the rioting cultists are those on the roof, who fire down a volley of arrows at the Baron and his unflinching army. Victor, peering out from behind a building's overhang, starts making panicked gestures up at one of the rioters. A skeletal hand appears and sails through the air, grabbing the man by the throat and choking the life from him. Even Victor seems surprised by the brutal efficacy of his spell.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon uses a Call Lightning to blast Vargas and Izek for  10  damage. Izek passes his save for half, taking  5 .

Margarita attacks Solar Revenant with a claw, but crit misses.

Hunter slings at Margarita, dealing  4  damage.
Milivoj drops furniture on Margarita for a  10  damage critical hit.
Father Lucian casts Spiritual Weapon, which jabs at the Baron but misses.
Willemina Dodges.

Spider bites Rioter, dealing  23  damage and a KO. The Rioter is paralyzed and stable from the poison.
Ismark slashes Solar Revenant for two misses, then Action Surges for a  5  and a  6 , downing the guard.

Solar Revenant KO'd by Ismark rises again, spending its turn to recover and stand.
Solar Revenant shoots Sokol for  3  damage and  4  radiant damage.
Solar Revenant jabs at Kellon, but misses.
Solar Revenant jabs at Willemina past Gweyir, missing due to Dodge.
Solar Revenant slays Rioter with  4  damage and  5  radiant damage.
Solar Revenant slays Rioter with  5  damage and  2  radiant damage.

Lars Dashes towards Kellon.
Fiona Wachter casts Eldritch Blast at Baron Vargas, dealing  13  damage with one and missing with the other.

The Baroness Dashes towards the Baron.

Ireena casts True Strike and hits Izek for  4  damage.
Father Donavich knocks out Rioter with  5  damage.
Sokol climbs the building.

Rioter shoots at the Baron, but misses.
Rioter shoots at Solar Revenant, hitting for  3  damage.
Rioter shoots at Solar Revenant, hitting for a  5  damage crit.

Baronet Victor casts Chill Touch, slaying a Rioter with  11  damage.
Gweyir casts Moonbeam on Izek, then heals Ireena for  2  with her bonus action.

Nascent Darklord Vargas casts Burning Hands, dealing  10  fire and  3  radiant damage to Father Lucian and Fiona Wachter.
Izek Strazni misses Ireena twice.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - n20

Margarita, the Sabre-toothed Tiger - 21

Barovian Hunters - 20
Milivoj - 19
Father Lucian - 17
Willemina - 17

Spider - 16
Ismark - 16

Solar Revenants - 16

Guardsman Lars Kjurls, who laughed - 14
Fiona Wachter - 12
Baroness Lydia - 10

Ireena - 9
Father Donavich - 8
Sokol - 8

Cult Fanatics - 7
Cultist Rioters - 6

Baronet Victor - 5

Gweyir - 4

Baron Vargas, Falling Darklord of Vallaki - n1
Izek Strazni - n1
Bystanders - 0
 
Prehysterical
Lars's shouted question brings Kellon's attention back to the festival-goers, who have been cowering in the midst of all the death and mayhem.  "Get them out,"  Kellon answers the man as he points toward the cowering villagers. Seeing Father Lucian being pelted with the unholy fire, Kellon turns his trident back upon the Baron.

 "I will not be ignored, Baron!" 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Redirect  Call Lightning  on top of Baron Vargas
 (3d10)[ 17 ]  lightning damage, half on DC 14 Dex save
 
RandomWombat
Another bolt from the sky streaks down, this one striking the Baron head on. He staggers back, limbs twitching and scorch marks arcing the electricity out of his fingers, fixing Kellon with a malicious glare - and catching sight of his wife amidst the chaos.  "Lydia? Get out of the open, before something strikes you! Take cover under the stage!"  he commands, opening a pause in his building rampage.

Clanking mail announces the guards from the south, now under the Baron's spell, are marching towards them. Lars gives Kellon a nod and slips between the advancing lines to address the crowd,  "Please, everyone, avoid the fighting and file out through the southwest street! This way!" 

Father Lucian's ray of light shifts targets, moving to fend Izek away from Ireena, while the old priest pats out the flames on his robe and continues to face the Baron. Gripping his holy symbol he chants, and reaches a hand out to the Baron,  "Morninglord! Cast your light upon this wayward soul and release him from this fell power!"  Sunlight struggles to gleam from the surface of the amulet, paling before the Baron's dark flame.  "No, it's not enough!"  the priest's face contorts in despair.

The severe old woman looks less bothered by her wounds, raising an arm and hurling another pair of energy bolts, one of which strikes the Baron clean in the side of the head. Before he can turn to offer her retribution, she pulls back and uses the stage as cover. He is held back from chasing her when Baroness Lydia runs up and grabs his sleeve.  "Vargas! Vargas please, stop this! That's Father Lucian, why are you attacking him?!" 

For a moment, it looks as if the Baron might be listening. Then his eyes harden and he slaps her hands away.  "A cheap trick. You think you can fool me with this sorcery?!"  he shouts, for a moment his steel resolve slipping and the manic old man bubbling back to the surface. As Lydia recoils, Father Donavich hurls a trio of sunlight spears past her, their scorching heat only partially effective.

 "This is what I think of your illusion!"  raising his arm, the Baron hurls a small blue spark into the midst of the central square, and suddenly explodes in a blaze of blue fire. When the blinding flash clears, the two Fathers are badly hurt, Spider spared the worst only by the cover of a bench, and poor Lydia is little more than an ashen smear on the ground.


Emerging from the market, Spider latches onto the side of the soldier striking at Kellon and sinks its fangs in. Venom punches into the possessed guardsman's veins and he falls to the ground, cursed limbs going stiff. Unlike his brethren, the guardsman stays down, joints locked by poison.


Milivoj sprints back downstairs and drags Feddick's body inside, trying to stop the bleeding. But it is all too late, the man's blood long since pooled on the cobblestones. Outside, the hunter backs away and loads a stone into his sling, hurling it at the blazing revenant in a fearful panic.  "Monsters!"  His stone clonks into the soldier's helm and draws its attention. Marching over, it strikes the slinging hunter down with a spear stroke.


  "Get out of here!"   Gweyir shouts back at Willemina, finally spurring the woman out of her fearful cowering position and away from the square. But while Gweyir is guarding her retreat, the elven druid suffers an opportune blow from the revenant, blue flame burning away at the wound.

She swerves her moonbeam back onto Izek, as Ireena deals the man a solid blow that leaves a scratch on his devil arm. Then Gweyir brings her focus back to fending off the now two guards preparing to corner her. Izek steps back out of the burning light in irritation and swings his axe around, missing. But he brings the haft up and slams it into the side of Ireena's head, nearly knocking her out.


Left open as he climbs up, Sokol takes a spear jab to the arm from the balcony guard, not even flinching from the blow. Pulling himself to his feet, he swings up in an uppercut that the guard dodges out of the way of, but follows up with a pommel strike to the face.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon uses a Call Lightning to blast Vargas for  17  damage.

Hunter slings at Solar Revenant, dealing  3  damage.
Milivoj drags Feddick inside.
Father Lucian's Spiritual Weapon jabs at Izek, hitting for  4  damage.
Father Lucian casts Dispel Magic upon the Baron, but is unable to dispel the effect.
Willemina flees the area.

Spider bites Solar Revenant, dealing  7  damage and  8  poison damage for a KO and paralysis.

Solar Revenant spears Hunter for  8  and  1  radiant damage for a KO.
Solar Revenant jabs Sokol for  3  damage and  1  radiant damage.
Solar Revenant is paralyzed, and unable to rise again.
Solar Revenant jabs at Gweyir, dealing a  16  damage critical hit. She maintains concentration on Moonbeam.
Solar Revenant Dashes.
Solar Revenant Dashes.

Lars moves and addresses the crowd, beginning to file them out.
Fiona Wachter casts Eldritch Blast at Baron Vargas, dealing a  14  damage crit with one and  9  with the other.

The Baroness appeals to Vargas, but critically fails.

Ireena casts True Strike and hits Izek for  11  damage.
Father Donavich casts Scorching Ray, hitting once for  5  damage after Resistance.
Sokol strikes Solar Revenant for  4  damage, but misses his offhand.

Rioter shoots at Izek, but misses.
Rioter flees the area.

Baronet Victor flees with the civilians.
Gweyir moves Moonbeam onto Izek, and strikes Solar Revenant for  6  damage.

Nascent Darklord Vargas casts Fireball, dealing  22  fire and  4  radiant damage to Kellon, Ismark, Donavich, Spider, Lucian, Lydia, and a Solar Revenant. DC 14 save to halve damage. The Revenant is KO'd, and Lydia is slain. Lucian and Spider pass their saves, taking only  13  damage.
Izek Strazni takes  12  damage from Moonbream, then misses Ireena once, and hits for  14 .

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - n20

Margarita, the Sabre-toothed Tiger - 21

Barovian Hunters - 20
Milivoj - 19
Father Lucian - 17
Willemina - 17

Spider - 16
Ismark - 16

Solar Revenants - 16

Guardsman Lars Kjurls, who laughed - 14
Fiona Wachter - 12
Baroness Lydia - 10

Ireena - 9
Father Donavich - 8
Sokol - 8

Cult Fanatics - 7
Cultist Rioters - 6

Baronet Victor - 5

Gweyir - 4

Baron Vargas, Falling Darklord of Vallaki - n1
Izek Strazni - n1
Bystanders - 0
 
Prehysterical
For just a brief moment, Kellon has hope in his heart that Lydia will be able to talk her mad husband down. Then the Baron shoves her away and all is blue flame. Only by turning his shell instinctively to the blast and withdrawing his head within his shell does Kellon avoid the worst of the blast, though he is still badly scorched. Thankfully, the tortle maintains his concentration on the storm above him.

When his head reemerges, Kellon sees the other priests have fared even worst... and that Lydia has been reduced to a shriveled husk by the blue flame. The lightning seems to flash with Kellon's anger.  "Your own wife, Baron! YOUR OWN WIFE! Skyrend!"  Indignant, Kellon seems to have difficulty in saying little else.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Call Lightning on Baron Vargas:  (3d10)[ 15 ] 
DC 14 Dex save for half
 
RandomWombat
Standing among the steaming cobblestone, Vargas stands once more resolute even as the storm crashes against him. His hair tracing up the V-shape of his premature balding is frayed and standing on end from the static clinging to him, making him look ever more the part of the mad old bastard. The stage and benches were spared the flame by their soggy water-logged state after the storm, only sporting some scorch marks.  "Shut up,"  the Baron states simply and coldly, swinging his arms to shake out the tremors from the electricity that just coursed through his body.  "You thought your illusions could turn her face against me.  You were wrong ." 
 "You stupid mad bastard,"  chokes Father Lucian, through a flame-scorched throat. The Baron glares up at him as the old man nearly rolls off of the back of the stage into cover to tend to his grievous wounds. Flying over from its previous focus on Izek, the spear of sunlight jabs at the Baron from behind, catching him unawares. Wounds upon wounds are mounting, the Baron's back bent and his breath panting.

Climbing the stairs on the other side of the stage, the stern woman hurls a pair of energy rays, one of which pummels the Baron with impressive force, denting his breastplate like a hammer blow.

 "I can keep the bad ones from getting back up!"  Spider chirps to Kellon, trying to remain hopeful in spite of some burns searing the long hairs from its back. It administers a dose of paralyzing venom to the guard who had been marching over before being caught in his master's own fireball.

Barreling down the square, Ismark lets out a shout of fury as he leaps at the Baron, the two of them clashing blades. After exchanging a few back and forth flourishes of swordplay, the Baron suddenly vanishes in a burst of flame the sears the young nobleman. A twin explosion appears behind Kellon, the heat and fire providing enough warning for him to twist around and deflect the Baron's gleaming saber off of his tough shell.


From the building sheltering the orphans, Milivoj bursts out and rushes one of the revenant guards from behind, striking the ensorcelled man in the back with his shovel. The guard is caught by surprise and crumples to the ground, momentarily. Mil's eyes go wide as the guard's eyes flare with new light and he begins to slowly stand back up.


On the west balcony, Sokol ducks around another strike of the revenant's spear and counterattacks with a pommel to the creature's head, knocking it momentarily to the ground. With the civilians nearly clear of the area Lars leaps up into the planter below and begins scaling the wall and tree to get up there.  "Go help! I'll keep him down!"  he calls to Sokol, who is already leaping off of the balcony and beginning a slow walk of stiff purpose towards Vargas.


The two guards flank Gweyir, keeping her from defending adequately from both angles. Almost as soon as one lands a painful strike, the two of them suddenly fall over as a sparkling cloud of sleep sand blows through the air around her. Ireena gives the other woman a nod.

Moving her ray of light back atop the guard captain, Gweyir closes in behind the mountainous man and strikes from behind with her longsword. The blade does not cut fully through his tough hide armor, but will surely leave a bruise along his back.

A blow of the blunt side of his axe sends Ireena to the ground, and Izek spins with the swing to deliver a deadly downward swing at Gweyir. She tries to block with her sword, but the weapon is sent rebounding into her face and she collapses to the ground, hair splaying over the pavement as she bleeds from a cut across the face.

Hauling Ireena's slumped form over one shoulder, Izek begins to trudge away from the scene, the Baron and his fight forgotten.


From the direction of the Blue Water Inn, the well-dressed half-elf bard who'd been a patron there since Kellon's party came to town arrives walking as quickly as he can with his cane.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon uses a Call Lightning to blast Vargas for  15  damage.

Milivoj charges Solar Revenant, striking for  10  damage and knocking him out.
Father Lucian's Spiritual Weapon jabs at the Baron, hitting for  5  damage.
Father Lucian casts Cure Wounds on himself for  9  healing, and takes cover.

Spider bites Solar Revenant, applying paralysis to keep it down.
Ismark swings twice at the Baron, hitting once for  8  damage. He recovers  14  health with Second Wind.

Solar Revenant rises again.
Solar Revenant jabs Sokol for a miss.
Solar Revenant is paralyzed, and unable to rise again.
Solar Revenant jabs at Gweyir, but misses.
Solar Revenant is paralyzed, and unable to rise again.
Solar Revenant flanks Gweyir and hits for  2  damage and  5  radiant damage. She holds Concentration.

Lars urges the civilians to safety, then begins climbing up to help Sokol.
Fiona Wachter casts Eldritch Blast at Baron Vargas, dealing  14  damage with one and missing the other.

Ireena casts Sleep, putting the guards attacking Gweyir to sleep. Gweyir is immune on account of being an elf.
Father Donavich casts Scorching Ray, missing them all.
Sokol strikes Solar Revenant for an  8  damage KO, then hops down to move towards the Baron fight.

Rioter shoots at Vargas, but misses.

Baronet Victor flees with the civilians.
Gweyir moves Moonbeam back onto Izek, and strikes him for  7  damage.

Nascent Darklord Vargas strikes Ismark for  4  damage and  7  radiant damage with his saber, then explosively teleports, dealing  5  damage to Ismark. Kellon risks  11  fire damage, with a DC 14 Dex save for half. He takes a second swing at Kellon, but misses.
Izek Strazni strikes Ireena for  12  damage and a KO, then turns and knocks Gweyir out with an  11  damage hit. He grabs Ireena and begins to leave.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - n20

Margarita, the Sabre-toothed Tiger - 21

Barovian Hunters - 20
Milivoj - 19
Father Lucian - 17
Willemina - 17

Spider - 16
Ismark - 16

Solar Revenants - 16

Guardsman Lars Kjurls, who laughed - 14
Fiona Wachter - 12
Baroness Lydia - 10

Ireena - 9
Father Donavich - 8
Sokol - 8

Cult Fanatics - 7
Cultist Rioters - 6

Gweyir - 4
Rictavio - 3

Baron Vargas, Falling Darklord of Vallaki - n1
Izek Strazni - n1
 
Prehysterical
It is only through sheer concentration (and the eternal protection of his living shell) that Kellon hangs onto his connection to the storm as the Baron appears unexpectedly beside him in a blaze of fury.

Holding shifting his shield to ward off the Baron's saber, Kellon barks orders to the others.  "Father, go and help Gweyir! Ismark, your sister! I will hold him!"  Secretly, as the air is filled with the smell of turtle soup in the rain, Kellon wonders if he actually can... In a desperate plea to Poseidon, a trident of lightning forms and strikes at the Baron's back.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Call Lightning on Baron Vargas:  (3d10)[ 18 ]  lightning damage
Centered on the square directly south of Vargas, DC 14 Dex save for half

Going to do what I should have done a long time ago and summon a Spiritual Weapon (trident) atop the disabled Solar Revenant to flank the Baron.
Spell Attack:  (1d20+6)[ 11 ] 
Advantage from Flanking:  (1d20+6)[ 9 ] 
Damage:  (1d8+3)[ 4 ]  force damage
 
RandomWombat
This time, in the close quarters, the Baron is ready. He shifts away from the coming static, avoiding the worst of the crashing bolt, and deflects the floating weapon off of the back of his breastplate. Another flash of light follows the bolt down from above like an echo, a glowing mote of light sailing over the stage from Father Lucian's aloft symbol and crashing into the Baron.

Coming up behind, Spider tries to climb up onto the Baron to sink paralytic fangs somewhere exposed, but he shakes the arthropod off. A pair of magical beams streaks past from the woman on stage, striking the cobbles and sending a few stones flying.

The Baron twists towards the coming of heavy footsteps, but Sokol's shortsword slices along his arm, knocking his defensive saber away. Swinging in, Sokol delivers an uppercut to the Baron's chin - lifting him up into the air and sending him down onto the pavement, his flaming crown sending out sparks as it impacts the stone. The spreading corruption has not stopped, and the revenants continue to try and rise, as the Baron's bleeding tongue lolls out of his mouth drooling red into the cracks of the square. There is likely only one way this ends.


  "Ireena!"   his attention pulled after his sister, Ismark charges after the guard captain. Father Donavich is huffing and puffing on his tail, stopping to squat down and lay a hand upon Gweyir's bleeding wound. Light flows into it, sealing off the gash without so much as a scar.

Bolting up, Gweyir half-crawls to her feet and reaches out. A root-like appendage launches out and grabs Ireena around the waist, pulling her free of Izek's grip as he turns to face Ismark. The guard captain's expression changes for the first time from passivity to irritation, but seeing the Baron fall he turns and flees rather than face the full weight of the party. Ismark catches up just in time to try and deliver a slash across his back, but Izek is too quick on his powerful legs and soon outpaces the nobleman.


Gripping his shovel tightly, Milivoj swings in a panic at the risen guard, but his shovel is deflected and he catches a spear across his side. Stumbling aside, Milivoj gasps at the wound, glowing momentarily with phantom blue fire that leaves the wound blackened.

 "Watch out, boy!"  a voice calls out, the old bard stepping in on the opposite side of the revenant and striking it over the head with his cane, knocking it back down.


On the west balcony, Lars clubs the revenant in the side of the head with the flat of his spear as it tries to stand up, throwing it back down onto the boards.

 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Kellon uses a Call Lightning to blast Vargas for  9  damage, with a successful save. Kellon conjures a Spiritual Weapon, but misses.

Milivoj misses Solar Revenant.
Father Lucian's Spiritual Weapon moves towards the Baron.
Father Lucian casts Sacred Flame, dealing  7  damage to the Baron.

Spider attempts to bite the Baron, but misses.
Ismark Dashes after Izek.

Solar Revenant strikes Milivoj for  5  damage and  5  radiant damage.
Solar Revenant rises again.
Solar Revenant is paralyzed, and unable to rise again.
Solar Revenant sleeps.
Solar Revenant is paralyzed, and unable to rise again.
Solar Revenant sleeps.

Lars climbs to the roof and strikes Solar Revenant for a  12  damage critical hit, putting it back down.
Fiona Wachter casts Eldritch Blast at Baron Vargas, missing twice.

Ireena is KO'd.
Father Donavich upcasts Cure Wounds on Gweyir, restoring  23  hit points.
Sokol slashes the Baron for  6  damage, then punches him for  4 , KO'ing him.

Rioter flees the area.

Gweyir uses a non-lethal Thorn Whip to grab Ireena and pull her away from Izek.
Rictavio strikes Solar Revenant for  15  damage and brings it back down.

Nascent Darklord Vargas is down.
Izek Strazni Dashes and flees the area, avoiding an AoO from Ismark.

It is Kellon's turn!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Kellon - n20

Margarita, the Sabre-toothed Tiger - 21

Barovian Hunters - 20
Milivoj - 19
Father Lucian - 17
Willemina - 17

Spider - 16
Ismark - 16

Solar Revenants - 16

Guardsman Lars Kjurls, who laughed - 14
Fiona Wachter - 12
Baroness Lydia - 10

Ireena - 9
Father Donavich - 8
Sokol - 8

Cult Fanatics - 7
Cultist Rioters - 6

Gweyir - 4
Rictavio - 3

Baron Vargas, Falling Darklord of Vallaki - n1
Izek Strazni - n1
 
Prehysterical
 "You're a good shipmate, Sokol,"  Kellon gasps as the zombified Barovian knocks out one of the landed gentry. He is relieved to see Ireena recovered from the foul clutches of Izek, but the continued rampage of the revenants reveals a hard truth. Even with the Baron unconscious, his fell magics still run amok. As he sees the remaining townsfolk still fighting, Kellon realizes his role.

With a clawed hand firmly gripped around the Trident of Riptide, Kellon wills its ethereal twin to strike into the Baron's chest at the same time as his own strike. Baron Vargas will be hurled over the threshold of death and placed firmly in his god's waiting judgment.
RandomWombat
Two tridents plunge into the Baron's heart, six points piercing his chest. As they are pulled free, blood spills and the man's ragged voice heaves out one last breath, a plume of black smoke leaving his mouth. The crown of flame around his head shatters, breaking apart into falling sparks and vanishing into the wet cobblestone. With that final breath, the blue flames of the solar effigy burn out and blow away.

Kellon can feel the roiling Mist surrounding the town begin to calm and settle, rolling back out over the countryside and sinking towards the Barovian borders. The sun, for now, remains bared to Vallaki with the blue sickness at its core shrinking back to nothing. But the light around them dims and darkens, as if a cloud had drawn across its eye in spite of the clear sky. Ashes from the effigy blow past in the wind.

The guards around the square go still - those who were not already held petrified by Spider's venom. The baleful light fades from their eyes and they lie unconscious, breathing unsteadily but looking miraculously unhurt even after all of their wounds.

 "Madman,"  Sokol bitterly looks down at the dead Baron, then turns and gazes towards the burnt remains of Vargas' wife.  "The boy..."  he mutters sadly.

Father Lucian circles the stage, leaning tiredly against the tree beside it and clutching his holy symbol. The severe looking woman who'd been slinging spells walks down from the stage and surveys the now-empty square.  "The civilians were evacuated safely. Good,"  she observes, folding her hands in front of her as she addresses Kellon.  "Fiona Wachter. I believe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. My servant, Ernst, can seem too slick for his own good. In the end, we were able to end the Baron's madness... but Baroness Lydia has suffered from our earlier disagreements." 
 "I saw this one was with those rioters,"  the guard who laughed calls down from the balcony, as he handcuffs and disarms the unconscious traitor-guard.  "It seems all of my comrades suffered the Baron's curse... Vampire Killer, can you and your friends help me to gather and restrain the rest of these rioters?" 
 "Good man. In times like these the rule of law must be maintained or it is chaos that will usurp the Baron's empty seat,"  Lady Wachter agrees, picking up a few sets of cuffs from the unconscious former-revenant nearby and walking south towards the unconscious rioters.


Ismark and Gweyir carry Ireena back into the square, sitting her up against a cart while Father Donavich uses his magic to stir her to waking.

 
 Spoiler: Healing 
Father Donavich heals Ireena for  7  hit points.
 



From near the tiger, some more arguing can be heard.  "Let me go dammit! This thing killed Feddick!" 
 "She is simply an animal, young man, who was confused in an unfamiliar environment. She should never have been loose,"  the bard is holding Milivoj back from striking the fallen animal with his shovel. Her condition seems to have stabilized, breathing steadily in unconsciousness. The performer's accent is unfamiliar, not entirely like the other Barovians'.

 "She? It is a she now? Is this your Lord damned cat?!"  Milivoj demands, pulling away from the older man's grip and shouting in his face. The performer keeps his calm with remarkable poise.  "You brought that thing! It is your fault he's dead!" 
 "It  is . And I intend to make it right-" 
 "How? How are you going to make it right when he is lying in there dead?!"  running forward, Milivoj pounds his fists against the taller man's chest. The man simply stands and takes the abuse of the flying fists, holding a hand on the boy's shoulder and waiting for him to tire himself out, the other hand keeping steady on his cane.
Prehysterical
It's always a grim task, striking down those who cannot fight back... but it seems to be the right thing to do as the blue felfire crisps away. At the very least, the guards are alive and have not likewise burned to ash. Kellon shares a sad, knowing look with Sokol as the Barovian casts his gaze over the pitiful remains of Baroness Lydia. Before he can share his guilt, Kellon finds himself face-to-face with Lady Wachter. When Kellon interprets her comment about Lydia's death as an accusation, the tortle is ready to tell her exactly where she can stick her opinion. Fortunately, Lars's callout gives him something more important to focus on. Suppressing a small hiss, Kellon looks up to the guardsman.  "In a moment, sailor,"  he answers back.  "We must see to the wounded... and offer a prayer for the dead." 

The commotion between Milivoj and the older bard catches Kellon's attention. He approaches the scuffle, the blunt end of his trident striking the stone like a walking stone while its ghostly twin still follows behind him. A clawed hand is placed on Milivoj's shoulder. Out of some paternal instinct, Kellon pulls the young man in to embrace him. It might provide some comfort... and good luck to anyone taking their anger out on tortle shell.

Kellon fixes the stranger with a stern look.  "An accidental death is not something easily corrected, even by the gods. Explain yourself." 
RandomWombat
Without argument, Lars nods. But Sokol does pull his scarf back up to better hide his face and leads Spider to help the man to lower the arrested traitor guard down from the balcony using some webbing. Father Lucian and Father Donavich (one he finishes checking on Ireena) begin to check on the wounded, most of whom thankfully seem stable. Gweyir and the siblings begin helping to move the wounded and dead, organizing a pile of the fallen and an area for triage. The rioters and cultists are gathered up and arrested by Lady Wachter using the fallen guards' cuffs.

Meanwhile, Kellon pulls Milivoj into a heavy embrace. The boy struggles at first, then leans into the smooth shell of Kellon's chest, sobbing. Through the door of the building, the caretaker can be heard trying to soothe the other children, likewise crying in grief, fear and sheer exhaustion left behind by the former two.

The bard regards the tiger with a mixture of remorse, concern for the animal, and an investigator's calm and practiced eye - the sort Kellon has seen during ship inspections, but never on a traveling minstrel.  "It is not,"  the man agrees, soberly. He turns to meet Kellon's gaze. Reaching into his coat, he withdraws a silver-lined leather scroll case and turns it over to Kellon. Opening the contained scroll reveals the glittering diamond-studded ink of a scroll to raise the recently deceased - no cursed undeath, but a true return to life. And once more not the sort of thing a traveling minstrel keeps in their coat pocket...

 "Your face betrays many questions,"  the man folds his hands on his cane, his eyes not wavering as he meets Kellon's gaze.  "I'm afraid I cannot answer them in public. I must find a safe place to bring Margarita, disinfect her wounds and secure her. And investigate precisely how she got loose."  The old man does not look in any shape to move the full grown tiger, and his mouth hangs open for a moment, he seems about to ask for help, but pride or guilt holds his tongue.  "I believe we stay at the same inn. I will answer your questions there." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon receives a Scroll of Raise Dead.
 
Prehysterical
Kellon's eyes widen as the nature of the scroll becomes apparent. What sort of man just carries one of these in his pocket like spare coppers?! Perhaps the damage can be undone, indeed. After giving the minstrel a suspicious glare, Kellon assures him quietly,  "Damn right you will. But first, we need to get this cat away from the children..." 

He calls out,  "Father Donavich, get the wagon. We have need of it. Father Lucian, could you spare me a moment to look at something?" 
RandomWombat
With Kellon's attention elsewhere, Milivoj pulls away from the hug. The fire in him seems to have gone out, stifled as the pain of his injuries starts to bubble back up to the surface, absent the adrenaline of panic. He walks over to the steps of the stage and sits down with a grunt of effort, the wood creaking slightly under his weight.

The two men of light are called over, and Father Donavich quickly mends the boy's wounds with a spell, receiving a murmured thanks in return. Pressing his palms to his knees, he gets creakily back to his feet and walks up to the cat, examining it.  "The wagon is for this one?"  he asks, a little wary of its vicious fangs and claws.  "Right. I'll be back shortly,"  already puffing at the distance to the inn, the large man jogs away at a modest pace.

 "A wagon would make things simpler... thank you,"  the minstrel takes off his glasses and cleans away some of the ash blowing in the wind, using a white rag from his pocket. He looks away awkwardly, as if unused to offering thanks.  "In that case, we should talk here in the mean, if we may find somewhere private. After your business with the Father is concluded of course." 
 "The triage is handled, for the most part. Did you wish me to deliver last rites?"  the elder priest asks in a low voice, so as not to upset Milivoj further.
Prehysterical
Kellon opens his beak to say something to Milivoj, but words completely fail him. Patron Feddick was essentially Milivoj's father figure. Words are inadequate.

 "Don't thank me,"  Kellon tells the man flatly.  "I want this cat away from the children." 

In response to Lucian's question, Kellon holds out the newly acquired scroll.  "Hold off for just a minute, Father. Take a look at this, will you? I'm game to try, but I confess that... we only get one chance at something like this." 
RandomWombat
The priest's eyes go wide, as he gently holds the scroll.  "This is... I would never call a day like this blessed by the Morninglord, Kellon, but this is nothing short of a miracle. Where did you find such a thing?" 
 "It was mine,"  reluctantly, the mysterious minstrel admits, his face shifting into a frown with the immediate attention it brings upon him from Father Lucian.  "It is not something I part with easily, I assure you, the value of that scroll is not lost on me and I cannot simply produce another. But I take responsibility for my mistakes, and what happened here ultimately traces back to my actions."  He looks to Margarita and then to the door.

 "I understand. Your responsibility is admirable, stranger,"  Lucian still appears thoughtful on the identity of the stranger, but focuses on the task at hand.  "Kellon, this spell is beyond me to cast without margin for error, even in the form of this scroll. Yet, if we cooperate and perform the casting together, I have faith that we can succeed." 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Father Lucian will provide Help on the DC 15 casting check for the scroll, granting Advantage.
I will be treating Inspiration as its own reroll instead of Advantage, allowing them to stack. So if you Inspire an Advantage roll, you'd be rolling another 2d20 and taking the better. So bear this in mind if it biffs.
 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
That actually helps immensely. Thank you.
 

After a moment's consideration, Kellon nods.  "Aye. If two priests of two different gods together cannot bring back a dead man, then he is truly lost."  Kellon accepts the scroll back and places his clawed hand on Patron Feddick's chest, waiting for Father Lucian to do the same. Before he reads the words from the scroll, Kellon includes a little chant of his own. The tortle's voice booms in his shelled chest as he calls out to the gods of sun and sea.

  "Fire and water,
Light and dark,
Sun and storm,
I call you, hark!

This wrongful death
Shall not abide.
Bring him back
From the tide!"  
 
 Spoiler: Wisdom casting check 
 (1d20+3)[ 8 ] 
 (1d20+3)[ 16 ] 
 
RandomWombat
Solemnly, the fallen Patron is brought out into the open, on the cold wet ground, and laid before them. Milvoj looks on, uncertain, with a mixture of hesitant hope and uncertainty that what he overheard was true.

Standing across from Kellon, Father Lucian closes his eyes and chants a prayer of his own.

  "Under now the sun,
Restored and pure,
Where rain hath fallen,
'Bove the moor.

Let the shine be thine altars,
And by thine edict,
I beseech restore,
Our fallen Feddick."  

Beneath them, the water settled between the cracks in the pavement begins to glow like fallen starlight. It rises from the earth in streams and coils around the patron, curling and weaving until he is wrapped in a cocoon of brilliance. The scroll in their hands catches fire, ash and diamond dust sprinkling down as it burns and absorbing into the holy casket.

After a moment, two shapes begin to rise from the same golden light, small and rectangular. A pair of playing cards float into the air. Upon one is a wealthy man wearing bright clothes and hat, offering coins. The other bears the image of a priest in clerical attire, with round glasses and kind eyes.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Kellon retrieves  the Philanthropist of Coins, and the Priest of Glyphs , adding to his collection.
 


The cards remain hovering in the air, surrounded by flickering sun-water that dances like fireflies. The cocoon encompassing Feddick meanwhile melts away, revealing the man whole and unharmed, as if he had been sleeping peacefully. When Milivoj dives past the two clerics to check on him, the man gasps awake.

 "Patron? Feddick, you're alive! He's alive, it's a miracle!"  he shouts to the other kids inside, who come out to see the miracle. Milivoj helps the patron sit up, who wipes his wet face and looks around in bafflement.
Prehysterical
Kellon watches with open awe at the holy fusion of light and water. Somehow, though, it's not the strangest part of the resurrection. After having to take a moment to process the appearance of the Tarokka cards, Kellon claims them for his own. He feels a glow in his own chest as Milivoj leaps up at the sight of Feddick's return. Kellon jovially tells the newly risen man,  "Welcome back to the land of the living, Feddick. I think some people here missed you." 

A tortle head turns to regard the stranger from the inn.  "Life taken and given back... The debt is paid. Now, why don't you introduce yourself?" 
RandomWombat
 "By the Lord,"  Feddick utters, out of breath. Partially from the near death experience and partially from the children clustered around him and pressing in on all sides. Across the cluster of joy, Father Lucian is rubbing his beard and looking at the cards that Kellon stows away.

 "What a strange thing,"  the priest comments.  "A sign from the gods? I have never witnessed a resurrection such as this before, so I... cannot say if this is normal, or not." 
 "Not,"  the other older man says cryptically, glancing down at his cat.  "If the Father will watch over Margarita, we can speak inside."  He nods his head at the now-vacated building the children had been hiding in. A reluctant nod from Lucian, and the 'bard' walks inside.

The door is shut behind them, and the man helps himself to one of the modestly tasteful, hand-carved wooden chairs in the Barovian home. Once they have privacy he folds his hands on a small table.  "Here, I go by Rictavio, to avoid the attention of Strahd and his Vistani servants. There are those in their number who know me, who carry my name through the Mists between these dark realms."  The man removes the foppish minstrel's hat from his head, and his appearance shifts ever so slightly. The receding hairline pulls back further, the face becomes rounder and less bony, and ears round out.

Not a half-elf, but a human.  "My name is Rudolph van Richten,"  the man introduces himself in a hushed but clear tone.  "A hunter of monsters, and walker of the dark realms of Shadow. At the moment, a hunter of a vampire. I hear that you and I now share a profession." 
Prehysterical
The tortle chooses to remain standing. At first, Kellon is greatly frustrated by the man's insistence on secrecy. What sort of man hides who he is? Once "Rictavio" explains his situation, Kellon's suspicion eases.  "Aye, though not by choice. My ship and its crew were pulled into this world via Strahd's dark magics. I do what I can here and there, but I've faced the blood-sucking parasite myself. Sadly, my faith was not strong enough to end him. He said something about wanting someone to take over his position as 'Darklord' or some such." 

He pauses in thought before asking,  "Just what does he mean by that, exactly? The Barovians speak of Strahd's magic like a curse on the land, the taint of undeath seeping into its very soil and spreading through the air. And what is 'the Mist'? I can sense it, but... how can Strahd create such a thing? Corrupting the elements?"  If Rudolph is truly such an experience monster hunter, perhaps he can offer Kellon some insight into some long-standing questions about this dark world.
RandomWombat
Withdrawing a leather bound book from his bag, the hunter opens it on the table and begins scrawling a transcript of Kellon's report inside using a stick of wood with sharpened graphite at the end.  "Interesting. So Strahd is seeking a means to undo his Curse by passing it to a willing successor."  Continuing to write without looking, the man looks at Kellon over his spectacles.

 "Where we are is a sort of purgatory, or a  Tartarus . Strahd being much like Tantalus, if you know the tale,"  there is some recognition as his gaze hovers over the symbol of Poseidon around Kellon's neck.  "It is a place deep within the Shadowfell where persons of grave evil and egotism are brought to become 'Darklords' as they are called, along with populations of unfortunate innocents for them to rule. Here, curses are a powerful and deeply ingrained force, as much as the wind and the rain and the sun of the Material you know. The reasons for this are as beyond my knowledge as they are yours'. The game of some distant, planar entities is most likely." 
 "Barovia is not the only realm in the Mists which separate them, and they from other places and times. The Mist was not born of Strahd, but rather... granted to him. Within Barovia, Strahd can command many things, the Mist included. But the one thing that will always escape a Darklord's grasp no matter his power or reach is the  one thing  he wants above all,"  the man raises a finger to emphasize the singular one. Rudolph lowers his finger and adjusts his spectacles.  "That is the Curse of Strahd. Eternal, empty power. But my investigations have not yet turned up that one thing. You've spoken to the vampire, you say... have you any insight?" 
Prehysterical
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Wow... It's almost like to undo the curse, we might have to combat some Dungeons and Dragons. 😛
 

Tantalus... Kellon had heard of the tale, but it had so many variations that Kellon could never be sure which was closest to the truth. It was only fitting that a being like Strahd should be stuck according to some divine punishment.

The Mist is from a power greater than Strahd?  That  is a chilling thought. Kellon thinks on Rudolph's question for a moment.  "He seems to mistake the Lady Ireena for some other woman that he desires. Strahd has gone to insane lengths to try and force her into marrying him. He wants to retire so that he can enjoy their... 'marital bliss'."  A disgusted gurgle rattles in Kellon's throat.  "Strahd kidnapped us from our own realm, Faerun. We had thought it was to make sport of us, but he seems to be testing outsiders so that they might take his place as a 'Darklord'." 
RandomWombat
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
There will be Dungeons, but I can neither confirm nor deny that there will be Dragons.
 


Scratching the bridge of his nose, the old hunter nods.  "It makes sense, as a plan. Or it would from Strahd's perspective. Pass on the curse and he can at long last have his reward, which he no doubt believes that he has earned."  Standing straight, he closes up his notebook and tucks it away in his bag.  "And do you aim to return home, or to put a stop to the vampire? I can offer advice to the former, and allies to the latter." 
Prehysterical
Kellon opens his beaked maw to respond... only to stop as all of the words catch up with him.  "How could we possibly return home,"  he asks with mild skepticism. It's very likely the man knows something that he doesn't.

...Actually, that had already proven to be the case.

 "Strahd brought us here with his own magic. If his magic is unmatched here, how could we possibly undo it?" 
RandomWombat
Taking a colorful scarf of cloth from his inner coat pocket, Rudolph holds it before him.  "Because the Vistani are blessed by Mother Night. One of the powers that hold sway over this place... one of the least malevolent, perhaps, but I am sure you know that even benevolent high powers can be wicked and vengeful when pressed."  Folding the cloth back into a triangle, he tucks it away.

 "They can travel the Mists freely, between the realms of Dread and the planes beyond. And those they carry in their vessels, too, can cross those borders; wagons, ships. It is with the aid of my Vistani apprentice that I may travel the shadow freely,"  he explains. Though mention of his apprentice makes him breathe a sigh out of his nose and rub the bridge.  "I am afraid we've been separated, so I cannot enlist her to help you. I have been searching for her, and in truth had hoped she would find her way to  me  in this central town by now." 
Prehysterical
 "I know that feeling well,"  Kellon sympathizes.  "We were supposed to meet up with our captain before all this Sun Festival business. In any case, I cannot leave. Poseidon has clearly issued me the task of bringing Strahd to account for his crimes against man and nature."  He holds aloft the Riptide Trident in emphasis.  "Now that I am in the storm, I must weather it. To flee before it would be to forsake all that my Lord has taught me." 
RandomWombat
With a nod of respect, the vampire hunter stretches his back and begins walking towards the door, tapping his cane alongside him.  "Then you may count me among your allies, when it comes time. My body is old and my strength not what it used to be, but I know monsters. And you know where to find me, should you need advice on how to kill one."  He motions towards the exit.

 "Is there anything else you need to know, before we return to cleaning up this mess?" 
Prehysterical
 "I have a thousand questions and not enough time to ask them,"  Kellon replies ruefully.  "Strahd has made it clear that if I do not compete for the title of Darklord, he has a new vampire lackey that will be all too happy to do so..."  He shakes his head slowly, the undead visage of Anton still seared into his eyes.

 "One more thing, monster hunter... just between us. I have been afflicted with lycanthropy. I've been chaining myself with silver at night, but the White Wolf is determined to break me. We seek out the Abbey, for my own curse and for... another reason. I tell you this so that if you find a turtle-shelled monster in the night, well... you know the reason." 
RandomWombat
 "Not an easy subject to broach with a monster hunter,"  the old hunter's words bear neither hostility nor humor. He nods solemnly to Kellon.  "You may find the were curse more resilient in this land than beyond, but I  have  seen it overcome. Rest assured, should you lose yourself to the beast, I will return you to Poseidon." 

The solemn oath given, Rudolph steps outside with his hat of disguise now returned to his head and his features growing into those of a half-elf. Outside, Father Donavich has returned with the cart and, huffing and puffing, has lifted the wounded cat into the back of it with help from Father Lucian and Gweyir. Gweyir, who is also soothing the donkey eyeing the huge predator in its wagon with understandable apprehension.

 "Many thanks, Fathers, I did not intend to make you do the heavy lifting for me,"  the 'minstrel' bows his head.  "Now, I must Margarita back to the Arasek Stockyard. Where she was caged, fed, watered, and  quite content  last I saw her,"  he points out with so small amount of bitterness in his voice.  "And I intend to investigate  who  set her loose in Vallaki and why. But I would not ask you to delay your journey on account of my investigation,"  he turns to Kellon, again.  "I am quite capable of tracking down suspects, so you need not worry. Once she is transported, your wagon will be freed of my burdens." 

Speaking of burdens, Kellon notes that the previous occupant of the wagon has been moved out of it and, presumably, stowed somewhere back at the inn.
Prehysterical
Kellon's respect for Father Donavich grows another notch. That couldn't have been easy for the priest. He nods to Rudolph, recognizing that the man has more pressing matters to attend to... such as getting his dangerous cat back in a cage.

The tortle asks Gweyir,  "The Baron's son... Where is he?"  Between the attempt on his life and the loss of both parents in one day, the boy must surely be in dire straits...
RandomWombat
The wagon trundles away over the cobblestones, its agile and deadly passenger lying still in its bed. Stepping over to Kellon, Gweyir shakes her head.   "He wasn't among the dead or wounded. I think the boy must have run off somewhere during the chaos."   Looking down, she frowns.   "If any of those weird cultists are still alive, they could be after him. Not to mention that creep Izek is out there somewhere."  

A quick look around shows everyone else has the situation well in hand, cleaning up after this mess of a festival. The tired and wounded priests have taken a seat on the benches to rest, and Father Lucian has his head bowed towards...  what's left  of the Baroness, murmuring a prayer to his holy symbol.

  "I'm still feeling pretty fresh, everything considered. Should the two of us go search for the kid?"  
Prehysterical
A look around at the remnants of the Sodden Day of the Sun has Kellon shaking his head sadly. He sighs as he witness Father Lucian performing last rites over the Baroness.  "Aye, we should... Feels like there's been enough death today, but it is far from over. The day could be far shorter should the leftover cultists get their hands on the boy."  An apprentice necromancer, the Baron-  former  Baron's son may be, but he was too young to be made into a scapegoat for people's anger.
RandomWombat
There's no telling where the boy went, not right away. But it can be deduced he was pulled along with the other evacuating civilians. Following the road in that direction and seeking any witnesses, Kellon and Gweyir are directed by an out of breath woman sitting on the front step of her home to the street near the Blinsky Toys shop Kellon had passed some time ago.

Cobblestone streets are glistening with water, and Gweyir's boosts splash in the puddles they pass. They don't seem to bother her any more than they do the tortle. It would be a sorry druid who can't handle stepping in a puddle. The toy shop comes into view ahead, sign swinging in the window.

When they get close, Kellon happens to look and spots a confrontation in the alley that leads to the back of the store. A man and a woman, both in those devil masks, are standing across from a portly man in colorful garments and a belled jester's hat. The monkey on his shoulder is equally memorable, and he carries a jangling backpack. The man who'd been selling the oddly macabre toys at the Sodden Festival. The woman is pointing a pitchfork at him menacingly.  "Get out the way, old man. He has this coming."  Behind her, the other man has a bow in his hands and an arrow readied, but not drawn back.

 "You can stuff it in your mouth, crazy woman. That boy has not done anything to do with his father,"  the fat man shouts back at her, holding little more than a toy wooden mallet in his hand to defend himself with.  "And there will be no violence at Blinsky's Toys! This is a place for joys!" 
 "We're going to get our joys beating this pathetic little beanstalk. Now back off if you know what's good for you." 

The monkey on Blinsky's shoulder bares its teeth and shrieks at the woman, causing her to flinch at the sound despite its size.
Prehysterical
Kellon's foot claws clack on stone and splash through puddles without a care as they march in their search. Realizing that he's running on adrenaline at this point, Kellon gives himself a minor reprieve with Poseidon's grace. Upon seeing the mugging in the alley, Kellon hurries toward the disturbance. He taps the base of his trident significantly against the stone, drawing the cultists' attention toward him. It's hard to imagine they'll have trouble placing the trident-wielding tortle after recent events.

 "The Baron is dead. Content yourself with that victory before I turn you into scorch marks on the pavement, for I have lightning yet  unspent ."  The last words come out almost as a hiss.
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Cure Wounds:  (1d8+3)[ 10 ] 
Intimidate: [roll]1d20+1[/roll]
 
RandomWombat
On seeing the well-armed and storied tortle step into the alley, the woman hesitates and takes a step back. Her teeth are grit and there's contemplation of violence in her eyes, beneath that mask. But even she can tell when she's outmatched. With a jerk of her head to the archer behind her they run off into the back alleyways, accompanied by three other ill-equipped rioters at their back.  "The slayer won't be here to save you forever, boy!" 

With that last threat thrown behind them, the troublemakers are gone. A familiar face, dark hair marred with a strip of white from the stresses of this day. He walks alongside the wall, holding onto his side. As Kellon gets closer, he sees that it's not a wound the boy is clutching. Flecks of vomit cling to his lip and chin, and he grasps at strenuous cramps brought on by his body's visceral reaction to trauma.

 "Thank you, my friend! Your timing was much blessed!"  the portly toymaker claps Kellon on the shoulder, probably hurting his hand a little in the process. Then, he look at Victor, who is quietly staring at the garden weeds at his feet.  "Young Victor. Are you..." 
 "No,"  the boy answers, curtly. He opens his mouth, maybe to say something else, or to give thanks. Whatever it was it dies on his tongue and he just closes it again, rubbing his face and dry eyes with an open palm.

After looking both ways behind them, Gweyir follows into the alley.   "It looks clear back that way. Was that all of them?"   Victor nods weakly.
Prehysterical
Despite the boy's dabbling in necromancy, Kellon's heart goes out to the baronet in that moment. Pulling out the alchemy jug and a rag, Kellon takes pity on Victor by soaking the rag in fresh water and wiping delicately at the boy's face to clear away the spittle and bile. He is silent for a moment as he works up the nerve to say what needs to be said.

 "I'm so sorry, lad. Your mother was a kind woman who loved her husband... and you... dearly. She deserved better."  Kellon refrains from making any comment on the late Baron.  "Were you wounded by the cultists? Though I cannot reverse death, I do have balms for the living." 
RandomWombat
As the boy's face is wiped down, he half-heartedly tries to push Kellon's arm away.  "Hey... hey. I'm not a kid, I can wipe my own face."  Victor protests in embarrassment, wiping the wetness from his mouth with the back of his sleeve after Kellon finishes. The boy heaves in a shaky breath and lets it back out.  "I'm fine. They didn't get me."  Then he looks up at Kellon.  "Wait, my mother?" 
  "You mean you didn't-"   holding a hand to her chest, Gweyir fights back some tears welling up in her eyes.   "You didn't see what happened?"  
 "I was running from those  cultists ,"  the baronet answers, letting his mouth gawp open.

  "Victor, she..."   the druid pauses and hesitates.   "She was caught up in one of your father's spells. She-"  
 "No,"  he cuts her off.  "No, you're lying." 

Gweyir shakes her head.   "I'm not. I'm not, Victor."  
 "And- my father? What become of him?"  the boy demands, looking between the two of them with panicked eyes. For all that he and the old man had their quarrels, there is concern and fear in those eyes.
Prehysterical
Victor's ignorance of the events is understandable, but it still renders Kellon speechless when the reality sinks in for the boy. His head hangs for a moment before looking up to confront Victor's pleading denial. He pulls out the knife that the fortuneteller had left in the door at the cursed house. Kellon had meant to give it back, but he had forgotten due to the million other things on his mind.

Grabbing Victor's hand, Kellon uses his greater strength to place the handle of the knife in the boy's hand. Once Victor has been armed, Kellon looks him in the eye and confesses.  "He's dead, lad. I'm the one who killed him. There was no other choice, not if more death was to be prevented. Your mother tried to talk him down and he smote her for it. If it's any consolation... he wasn't in his right mind when it happened. Something had taken hold of him... something evil." 

Releasing Victor's arm, Kellon makes no further move.  "As a priest of Poseidon, I know well the importance of family and blood price. If you seek vengeance upon me for the death of your father, I will respect that."  Indeed, the tortle keeps his arms at his side and makes no move to defend himself. His gaze locks with Victor's, regretful but steadfast.
RandomWombat
The dagger rests in Victor's hands as he processes the tale in his head. There are no tears in his eyes. Either too 'manly' to cry in front of them, or he's run out of tears to shed. His hands clench around the handle and blade as he falls to his knees, bleeding a little from the edges poking into his skin.

Grabbing the handle with both hands, he lets out a primal scream and starts stabbing the dagger into the ground, sending grass and clumps of dirt flying - and at one point nearly stabbing himself in the knee by accident. He flails like an infuriated animal, releasing a swollen store of pent-up rage and helplessness into the poor lawn.

When Victor tires too much to keep going and his voice grows hoarse, he tosses the dagger away where it impacts a rock, and lowers his head to the grass with his hands set upon the back of his skull. The flap of his carrying bag is nudged open and the toymaker backs away in surprise, as a skeletal cat crawls out. The tiny undead walks around the boy as if it were a perfectly normal cat and nudges its bony skull against his hair and hands. At last he sits himself back up, hair frazzled and face sunken. He reaches down and pats the skeleton, then ushers it back into the bag. It cooperates about as well as a cat would, and he eventually sighs and stands up.

 "My father,"  he says, in a strained voice,  "Died a long time ago."  Swallowing, he starts trying to smooth his hair back down.  "You owe me nothing. And thank you, Gadof."  Victor adds, to the toymaker, who nods now that the surprise has waned away.  "I cannot stay here. Those masked  freaks  will come back for me again. And people will run me out of town anyways when they learn about my research."  Again he looks down at the affectionate skeletal cat.  "I will go... I don't know. Somewhere else." 
Prehysterical
Kellon is all too familiar with the pain of losing both parents. Even though he had known it was coming, Kellon had still waged at the unfairness of having to say goodbye to them so soon. Unable to hide his disgust for the undead animal, Kellon walks over to collect the knife from where Victor had thrown it.

Despite the boy's explosion of emotion, Victor was handling this surprisingly well. Even discounting the masked men and women, the town would no doubt have an unfavorable opinion of Victor solely for being the former Baron's son. Kellon clacks his beak, clearly having an internal debate about something as he leans on his trident and scratches at a neck fold with a claw. With a sigh, he finally speaks.

 "How would you like to have a part in putting that old bastard Strahd out of his self-inflicted misery? Your father died trying to usurp his tyranny and your mother was a casualty... but you are not the only one to lose family to the vampire. Gweyir's brother was snatched by Strahd from our world, just as we were. Sokol's daughter is currently being groomed as a future bride by the shameless, gaslighting bloodsucker. Father Donavich's only son was turned into a vampire and now the man seeks to undo that undeath. You can do as you wish, but all of this misery traces itself back to our resident Darklord in his castle. If you want to put a stop to the madness, then help us. There are things that can be done, that  must  be done, outside of these walls. Find a way to make yourself useful. It will... help you as you grieve." 
RandomWombat
Looking down at the undead pet, Victor appears to be contemplating Kellon's words.  "I wish I could just leave this cursed land,"  he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists, but eventually releases a puff of air.  "So be it. It is not as if I have many options."  Turning his eyes upward to meet Kellon's, he pats the bag at his side.  "I have never seen a battlefield, but. I taught myself magic using this tome I lifted from my father's contraband chest,"  he takes out a black book with a notebook clipped to the front, and runs a thumb over the surface.  "There are some spells for battle. And some other things. Like warding sigils, and removing curses." 
  "First thing's first, the cat needs to get back in the bag,"   voice showing that Gweyir shares Kellon's distaste for the skeletal abomination, she frowns down at it. Druidic doctrine would normally demand such a thing be destroyed, but Gweyir is clearly holding herself back from acting rashly.   "If anyone sees that, mobs and pitchforks will be running you out of town before we're ready to go."  
 "If I may,"  the rotund toymaker taps Kellon on the shoulder, and rubs his hands over his own large belly.  "You are going to the devil's castle?" 
  "Not immediately, but that is the eventual goal,"   Gweyir cuts in. Gadov nods and licks his lips.

 "I know it may seem like such a small thing, but. My inspiration was the great toymaker, Fritz von Weerg, who was the castle's toymaker before Barovia was ah,"  he waves his hand at the sky, now once again closing in with dreary clouds and dim light.  "Genius inventor. I would love to study his greatest masterpiece, the clockwork man that be built for the royal family. If you should find such a thing..."  the man nervously rubs the back of his hand and chuckles.  "I admit, business is not good, ah, I cannot offer much reward. However, I could make you any toy you wish! Or perhaps... my new companion could become yours'?"  A hand points up at the monkey perched on his shoulder, which seems remarkably calm and trained in spite of everything happening around it. The creature makes a chirping sound when addressed.  "He was a gift from the traveling bard, Rictavio. I am still ah... not sure why. But he has been great company."  The toymaker smiles when the monkey reaches out and grips his finger, shaking it.

During the toymaker's request, Victor manages to herd his pet back into the back and restore it to his shoulder.  "... I am ready to go anytime. I have everything I want to take."  Taking out a brass key, he hands it to Kellon.  "Feel free to raid my former home for anything of value. The servants will probably pawn the rest..." 
Prehysterical
The toymaker's request comes as a surprise, but Kellon shakes his head slightly.  "No disrespect to you, sir, but Strahd's castle is no place for seeking lost treasures. Not while the wretch still stands on his own two feet! If I should happen across it, I will let you know, but I make no promises for such a thing." 

Kellon eyes the monkey critically. He seems like a nice enough little chap, but having a monkey around could bring bad luck... or so the old sailor superstition went.  "Keep your little friend, toymaker. Good company is hard to come by. Consider it my apology for ruining any of the business you might have made today." 

After accepting the bronze key, Kellon points out to Gweyir,  "Speaking of cleaning up... If memory serves, there is a lecher in the manor who is in sore need of a keelhauling! Our lady friend already has one stalker after her. Hard enough for her to sleep at night as it is."  He asks Victor,  "How did Izek come into the employ of your father? Is he from here, or another outlander like us?" 
RandomWombat
 "Oh, yes! Only meaning, if you should happen to come upon it... I would be most grateful,"  the pudgy toymaker bows his head and steps back.  "Many apologies if I have overstepped, Vampire Killer. I will leave you then... and,"  the man offers Victor a friendly nod.  "Good luck." 

As Gadof shuffles away back into his store, Victor giving him a half-hearted effort of a wave.  "Izek..."  the boy looks down and his lips tighten into a thin frown.  "He was born here in Vallaki, a few years older than me. When he was young, his parents took him and his little sister fishing at the lake."  His tone betrays that the story is not a happy one.

Groaning, Gweyir guesses,   "Did the 'beast' get them?"   But Victor nods.

 " A  beast got them. They were killed by a dire wolf. His parents and his sister, all of them. Only Izek survived, crawled away with one arm while the animal fed on their corpses."  The bloody image only makes Gweyir grimace, the brutality of nature is well known to a druid.  "He lived at the orphanage for a while. The other children there bullied him for his one arm, and the village children bullied all the orphans for... well, for being orphans." 
  "Did you bully him too?"   Gweyir asks. Her tone isn't accusatory, but more concerned - for Victor becoming a target of the man now that his father's protection is gone. Thankfully, Victor shakes his head again.

 "I preferred the company of animals. Cats... had a pet rat for a while,"  he looks at the wall of the building nostalgically, then frowns again.  "Till one of the cats ate it. I... probably should have seen it coming."  Running a hand through his hair, Victor shakes off the thoughts of his own past.  "Anyways. Some children who had been bullying him went missing. The guard found him dragging one out into the woods to leave to the wolves. Said it was an accident, they had been fighting. When the guard brought him to my father,"  Victor pauses and adds,  "Bear in mind he was not a decade old, and the bullies were older... but he was always large boy. My father pardoned his actions and took him in, forbade the other boys from provoking him any more, forbade Izek from fighting. He was raised with me, but we were never close. I would not call him a brother." 
  "And the baron made this man his guard captain?"   the druid asks, dumbfounded.   "Not to mention, where did the new monster arm come from?"  
 "It's not like there were more incidents,"  the young man shrugs.  "Was chalked up to tragic stupid kids getting in a fight and taking it too far. And the arm,"  again, Victor lets his eyes wander and then shrugs.  "I'm not sure, really. He says he woke up with it one morning. And as far as I know, it is true." 
Prehysterical
For just a moment, Kellon feels a bit of pity for the boy that would become the monster. When he remembers how Izek tried to kidnap Ireena against her wishes, however, the moment passes.

 "One doesn't  just  wake up with a new arm. There is some foul magic afoot, perhaps even a pact of some sort. We had best make our way to the manor. Who knows what Izek could be up to at this very moment..."  Kellon begins to do just that, his claws clacking against the wet stone as he leads them to the manor house.
RandomWombat
 "There are stranger things in Barovia than waking up with a magic arm..."  Though there is nothing further he wants from home, Victor follows Kellon and Gweyir to the old manor all the same. He may not feel comfortable traveling the streets alone right now, and all the wiser of him.

When Kellon comes stomping inside, two guard dogs stand up and start snarling at him, but Victor quickly steps forward and they lick their mouths, making apologetic noises as he scratches their chins and ears.  "It's okay. It's alright, go back to sleep."  One of them sniffs and growls at the bag with the undead cat inside, but Victor whaps is nose and it backs away, lying back down. The other goes over and joins it.

Together, the trio climb the stairs to the second floor. Kellon rounds the corner, and Gweyir whispers to him,   "This hallway is the room full of dolls, and the closet where the prisoners are chained up."  
 "The doll room is Izek's,"  Victor confirms, if indeed there remained any doubt.  "And my father's study is across the hall from it." 

There is light from beneath the door if Izek's room, and Kellon can hear the muffled sound of sobbing from inside. Gweyir draws her sword and looks at Kellon, nodding. She can't help but add a little verbal nudge with,   "Your lead,  acting captain ."  
Prehysterical
Even if Victor speaks the truth, that doesn't excuse strange happenings...

Kellon is thankful for bringing Victor along if for no other reason than to pacify the dogs. That would have made him feel guilty... somehow more guilty than the thought of hunting down Izek.

As they near the door to Izek's room, Kellon finds himself grateful for Gweyir's reminder about the prisoners. In all the catastrophe, he had almost forgotten! Her snarky remark, however, earns a glare from the tortle. With trident ready in hand, Kellon has an internal debate on how best to handle this. Izek is dangerous, so jumping him before he can cause more damage seems reasonable, but it makes Kellon's shell itch to think of stabbing someone in the back.

In the end, Kellon's sense of fair play wins out. He speaks through the door.

 "Am I hearing the captain of the guard right now? Fled to his room, crying because his kidnapping attempt was foiled? You do know that Strahd wants her too, right?" 
RandomWombat
Floorboards creaking beneath Kellon's weight preclude much stealth to begin with... and so as they approach, the sobs grow quieter and they can hear the counterpart squeaking of movement upon an old and worn mattress. Gweyir keeps he sword at the ready, and Victor stands at the end of the hall rubbing his wrists.

A growling breath answers Kellon's provocation through the door, and heavy boots thud against the wooden floor. The intimidation of the sound is, perhaps, dimmed knowing that the owner of those heavy boots was just crying to himself in bed.   "He will not have her,"   Izek's voice comes through the door with only the slightest hint of a waver. It is delivered in the same dull, expressionless monotone as the rest of his speech.   "I have seen her... I have seen her. She is the face from my dreams. Fate has bound us, I can see it,"   the man raves, and Kellon can hear him stand and begin pacing back and forth in the room. From the rumbling of metal on wood, he is dragging his axe along the floor behind him.

  "He sounds delusional,"   Gweyir whispers to the tortle.   "I believe he's seen her in his dreams, though... the dolls all over his room, they're too perfect a likeness. How does he know what she looks like, when she was kept so sheltered in that village?"   The druid looks thoughtful.   "Could somebody have been manipulating his dreams with magic? I hear hags can do that."  
Prehysterical
Gweyir has a point... or at least, he has to trust her judgment of what's on the other side of that door. At the mention of hags, a new possibility emerges.

Kellon's voice is hard as he asks through the door,  "Did you take anyone to the Bonegrinder coven, Izek?" 
RandomWombat
  "Who?"   the voice on the other side of the door snaps, the large man's patience sounding thin even as his anger rings flat. Like a piss-poor actor trying to sound angry on stage.

  "The hags, the women at the mill, Izek, did you have any dealings with them?"   Gweyir clarifies.

  "Ah, the ones you slew,"   some recognition slips back into the voice.   "No. I have had no dealings with hags or witches."   The pacing comes to a stop on the other side of the door.   "You hunt vampires, right? We don't need to be enemies... I just want to talk to her. That's all. I want to talk to her. And I'll kill the devil if he's laid his hands on her..."  
Prehysterical
So, Izek had no connection to the hags at all... It shouldn't be so surprising. There seems evil enough in this land that they need not overlap.

There is a slight trace of pity in the firmness of Kellon's response.  "Like how you tried to 'talk' to her by abducting her during the cultists' uprising, regardless of how she felt? You had ample opportunity to share your feelings, but it seems that you prize her more as a doll than a woman. On top of that, you seem to delight in pain and nearly Ireena's friend when she tried to rescue her. You may not be a vampire, but you have certainly  acted  like a monster.

Still, I have seen a sailor or two whose heart drove him to folly. If you truly mean no harm, then put the axe down and open the door. I won't kill an unarmed man." 
 
 Spoiler: Persuasion 
Not expecting this work, but here we go anyway:  (1d20+4)[ 14 ] 
 
RandomWombat
  "I was protecting her,"   Izek rebuffs the accusation, no hint of doubt in his voice.   "Do you think you have the right to judge me?"   Though his words speak to offense, his tone is uncaring. The more Kellon listens to this man talk, the more it sounds like something is missing in him. He is, perhaps, as much a doll as the effigies that sit in his room.

The door is thrown open, Izek's imposing figure looming on the other side. The axe is lying on the floor beside him, but his fur cloak is flung aside, the fiendish arm displayed openly with flames licking from the palm.   "I do not need an axe to kill you,"   he says, reaching out and unleashing a gust of flame that washes out into the hall. The old, dry wood of the building catches around Kellon and Gweyir.

Covering herself quickly with her cloak, Gweyir steps back and pats out the flames on the heavy fabric. As she moves, she brushes Kellon's shell with a hand and healing magic washes into his burns.   "He's going to burn the place down like this,"   she coughs, as smoke starts to crackle into the hot air.

 "The books!"  Victor exclaims.

  "I could put it out, but it's not gonna be pretty either,"   Gweyir readies her sword.   "And we need to stop him first."  
 
 Spoiler: Combat Log 
Izek throws open the door, triggering combat. Kellon's persuasion was unable to talk him down, but caused him to fight unarmed out of spite.
Izek acts first, casting Burning Hands into the hall. Kellon takes  12  fire damage, and Gweyir takes  6  with a successful Dex save. The hallway is on fire. Entering or ending turn in the fire deals 5 fire damage.

Gweyir casts Cure Wounds, healing Kellon for  11 , and backs up out of the hallway.

Kellon is up!
 

 
 Spoiler: Initiative 
Izek Strazni - 17

Gweyir - 16
 Kellon  - 9
Victor - 9
 