And so it begins...

Nestled amidst gentle hills and verdant forests, Willowbrook is a serene haven. Cobblestone streets wind their way past charming cottages adorned with vibrant flora, while the scent of fresh pastries mingles with the lively melodies of street musicians in the bustling Marketplace Square.

At the heart of this quaint town stands "The Dancing Raven," a tavern and adventure guild. The guild emblem is of a raven holding a sword and bow in its talons. The guild is run by Elden Stonehelm, a grizzled, retired adventurer. He and a few others keep the place to themselves.
Inside the guild, parchment boards line the north walls, displaying contracts that range from simple escorts to thrilling expeditions into ancient ruins or defending against marauding creatures. The west wall is a full, sturdy wooden bar, and a few patrons currently sit nursing an ale. The middle of the room holds a half-dozen sparsely crowded round tables.

The group is sitting at one of the tables, enjoying dinner and a strong drink, and discussing what to do next.

Elden enters the room, then looks around the guild. He spots the group and heads over. "Gots a job for you. If you are interested,. It should be quick."

As he spoke Elden noticed a pair of golden eyes opening through the thick cloud of pipe-smoke in the corner. They belonged to the wanderer known as Eye of the Storm, an odd name for an odd species, for the ranger was one of the Tabaxi, the cat-men of the deep forests. He had a broad tankard in front of him, and an open bag of pipe-weed that continuously fed his long-stemmed pipe and filled the room with herbal fragrance. His legs were stretched out before him, his mud-caked leather pants ending to show large bare paws resting on the table. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the innkeeper intently. At his side a second pair of eyes opened, near identical but belonging to a night-black panther. Stirred by her master's alertness, Darkcloud lazily regarded the grizzled innkeeper.

"Quick.... But not easy?" the cat-man inquired, his voice a growl of distrust. The Tabaxi had many strengths, but trust in men was not among them..

Seated with her legs draped off the edge of the table so as to keep her dirty boots off the space where the group had their meals and beverages, Briar had been amusing herself with one of the ball bearings she kept on her person in case of emergency. She had been juggling it between her hands and attempting to run it around her wrists and arms in some sort of delicate dance between her sips of ale.

"How can quick not be easy?" She chirruped as she tucked the small shining piece back into its storage place.

The fairy tucked a collection of her short, jaw-length hair behind her elongated ears, allowing the firelight to glint off the string of piercings. Fluttering her absinthe wings with a stretch, she looked from her companions to Elden expressing interest in hearing further details by means of an engaged expression.

Decked in her usual traveling gear all in earthen browns and greens, she donned breeches of leather that met their end inside of calf-length boots. A flimsy and well-worn bodice of leather protected her core but left her collarbone bare. The tunic beneath her corset hung loosely off her shoulders and ballooned around her elbows, gathered at the forearm into light bracers. Exposed by the nature of her attire, the inky leaves that decorated the fair skin across her torso could be seen to rapidly flutter excitedly for a moment as Elden made his announcement before returning to their usual state of calm waves.

Couth has kept to himself and quiet as he sat with his priestly clothing on. Semi tall with some scaring on his face showing he has been in battles before, he only sipped his drink. Appears he has been just killing his time in thought.

Consider there is yet to be more conversation, Couth only nods to let Elden know that he was heard.

Ashtar looked around at the motley crew as Elden approached. Being down on coin was the worst inconvenience in life, but needs must. They all seemed uniquely qualified, despite their strange looks. Ashtar himself tended to stick out in a crowd. Dressed in fashionable blacks and red with his pale complexion and a dark mop of hair, he was used to the glances the peasants threw him. It helped that he was once a star of the theatre.

But those days are long past, and he now awaited Elden with impatience.

"Aye, listen 'ere! A bunch o' them wandering merchants, they came a'knockin' 'round these parts a few sunsets ago," the dwarf gruffs, snatching a bit of roasted potato from a nearby plate with his sturdy fingers.

"At the start, they seemed a jolly lot, all smiles 'n trades, offering up their oddities and whatnot," he grumbles, letting out a sigh.

"But by the beard of my ancestors, it's gone sour! The folk 'round their camp, the farmers and such, they're riled up like a pack o' angry mountain goats," he grumbles, taking a hearty swig from a random ale mug he grabbed from the table.

"These traders, they've turned the nights into a proper mess! Loud tunes, brawls breakin' out like thunder, and their lass is temptin' folk wanderin' about," he growls, pinching the largest part of a sausage from another's plate.

"The townsfolk've had enough of this hullabaloo! They're wantin' these lot to pack their wagons and be gone, and that's where you lot come in," he declares, pointing around the table with emphasis. "Off you go, talk to 'em, but mind yer tongues! Convince 'em to clear off, and do it with a touch o' grace, if yer able."

"Giving peasants a talking to?" Ashtar's face soured. "How many folks might you be speaking of? Is that the reason why we need to mind our tongues?"

Honing in on the possibility of some sort of unique trinket, Briar stood and excitedly inquired, "What kind of oddities?"

As much as the task was a directive to solve a problem, it was never outside of her whims to try and magpie away with something new in her possession. She bounced with eagerness at the prospect of the small-scale adventure that could potentially double as a pocket-lining expedition.

"Sounds like they just need a reminder of their manners. Easy enough, I think."

The Tabaxi scoffed at the Fairy. This whole affair sounded more like a brawl waiting to happen.
"Wait, if their customers want them gone, what are these merchants sticking around for?"

"Well. I'm willing to give it a try. Haven't got anything else to do."

Ashtar wasn't one to be so melodramatic as to groan and sigh, but someone perceptive might've seen the ghost of a twitch to his lips, a clear sign of irritation. Peasants! He thought, but outwardly he offered a mild nod, before turning to the group.

"I can be quite persuasive, despite-" Ashtar motioned his hand to his morose face. "With or without magic, I might add. Or, I can always go the deceptive route. Lastly, there's always my preferred method, but our patron here would frown upon it." He tapped on the blade strapped at his hip.

Evidently unphased by the tabaxi's sentiments, Briar beat forth a quick and rapid succession of giddy claps with her tiny hands. The leaves inked across her skin swirled and danced the way canopies in an autumn breeze rustle vigorously during the stronger bursts of wind that arrive with the colder seasons.

"Point us in the direction and let's go have a look!"

The fairy fluttered from her table perch to the chair beside where her equipment lay in waiting. She wasted no time and immediately began attaching her primary satchel to her waistbelt, then checking that her other supplies were all adequately secured to her various belts and leads. She looked a little bottom-heavy when fully geared up, but it left her still capable of flight by divvying up her belongings around her hips and legs.

Snatching another mug and taking a long Chug. He points to the west with the mug
"Go yonder for 'bout 20 minutes, and ye'll hear 'em clear as night!" He chuckles at his joke.

With a smirk on her face, more amused at other’s discomfort about the more… expressive women of this group, Altria finally acknowledges the information presented.

"I must say, even if we must encourage them to leave, I’m rather excited to meet this band of unique characters." Never one to shy away from socializing, the half-elf was always eager to make a new friend and the odder they were, the better.

Resting back in her seat, wavy, brunette hair hung down her back as eyes the color of steel flicked over the group, gauging everyone’s reactions. Seeing them packing up, she was quick to rise to her feet. Wasting no time, she collected her blue and silver shield from beside her seat before ensuring she had her sword and dagger sheathed on the sides of her dark grey chainmail.

Her face, still unmarred despite having seen battle, broke out into an excited grin. "Oh," she added, looking at Briar, "You know if you can’t resist collecting something that’s too heavy for you to carry, I am willing to assist."

Mirroring the expression of the taller elven-eared individual in the group, Briar gleamed with a joyous curl on her lips. She rubbed her hands together excitedly with a scheming glint in her eyes.

"Anything you want me to keep an eye out for yourself? Always happy to help a friend do a little bargain hunting in the markets." Sure, shopping was stereotypically considered a woman’s hobby and bonding exercise among the sex. Partnered pilfering, however, was an art form and skill that amped into true sisterhood status as far as Briar was concerned.

Flitting up to float at an average eye-height among the party, Briar looked to the rest of the band to gauge their readiness for travel. Her wings hummed as they held her aloft, invisible save for the streaks of green that caught the light, the leaves on her shoulders stirred eagerly at the prospects ahead.

Priestly looking Couth who hasn't really said word one continues his masquerade of silence. He does eye the cute flying thing (Briar) with a touch of wonder. If it wasn't for that combo of handaxe and dagger you might just ignore him. You might wonder if he has taken a vow of silence or something, but you have heard him talk. Just not much.

With a chuckle, Alyria tells Briar, "If I get a notion for something, I'll be sure to point it out, but I have no particular needs just yet."

Ashtar side-eyed the fairy and the paladin with equal measure amusement and irritation. Chatty, those two were, quite the opposite of the brute who loves to show his physique at every opportune. He sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long day.

Quickly finishing their dinner, the group grabs their gear and heads out to deal with these rambunctious traders.
Stepping outside into the brisk nighttime air, they are greeted with a beautifully clear night sky. The moon bathes the landscape in its gentle glow.
The village is shutting down for the night. Townsfolk are blowing out their candles and lamps, shops are closing and locking their doors, and a few duos of guards start their patrols with lanterns in hand. The guards nod, wave, or give a short "Evening" , as you cross paths.

The short stroll does indeed take about 20 minutes. You pass by the village watch tower and gate, pass by a farm, and then another. Pretty soon, the lively sound of music fills the air. You see four colorfully decorated cloth-covered wagons and a slightly larger, fully enclosed wooden one. They are positioned in a "C" around a rather large, roaring bonfire. You see less than a dozen folks dancing and having a merry good time around the fire.

As the group closed the distance upon the frivolities ahead, the lights, music, and general sense of exuberance ignited a dangerously short fuse behind Briar’s wide eyes. Her moth-like attraction to all things joyous and bright created a blanket to cover the memory of her task at hand; surely Elden was wrong about these merchants. Sensing nothing but the happy glow of smiles and embrace of music, the fairy darted ahead like an animal on the chase, eyes on the move to catch any glimpse of a trinket or totem to hold long after the evening had passed on.

The warm atmosphere transported Ashtar to days gone by. Of night markets, performances under moon and masks, and dancing the night way--of times of joy and merriment before such soft words were taken from him. Ashtar approached the group of folks.

"Evening." He gave a courteous nod. "Might we speak with the leader of your merry band?"

Briar darts to the wagons, leaving the others to catch up at their own pace.
The cloth-covered wagons have two torches hanging from the tops, and the small doorways inside are close.
The larger wooden wagon is open at both ends and wide enough to walk through. It is also full of all sorts of bits and bobbles. Gloves, Hats, Scarves, Instruments, Mirrors, Maps, Vials, Pottery, Candles, and more. Sadly, in the middle of the wagon sits an elderly lady; she is currently knitting.Ashtar and the others approach the wagons, and a few of the traders notice them. The party does not stop or slow down, but two ladies stop dancing and start sashaying towards the party.

The two ladies are gorgeous. They have long black hair, voluptuous hips, and nice-toned legs, and they are both scantly clad. Only wearing knee-length skirts and shirts that show off their cleavage and bellies.
One of the ladies does a slightly revealing curtsy and offers a handout to Ashtar. The other lady heads right for Couth.
The main lady offers an ungloved hand towards Ashtar. "Now why would you want to speak to that old man when you could enjoy my company instead?

Couth smiles as he sees her closing in. Stiffens up in a priestly manor. "I bet you would be fine to show me this place." He does his best not to let his eyes linger anyplace other than forward. He points to the head wagon, "Could you be so kind as to bring me to the master of that large wagon there."

Briar can assume that the covered wooden wagon is where they hold the items the merchant sells. Once inside you fly around looking at everything. The elderly lady without looking up from her knitting says dryly to Briar "You Break it You Buy.
A few things catch your eyes. ,A wooden mask covered in barnacles — it is always wet
A necklace of gold braid and nine knots, with an ivory clasp.
A solid sphere of ice that emits smoke but cannot melt.
A curiously made coin of magically toughened glass, stamped with obscure ritual imagery and filled with quicksilver, without seams or air bubbles.
A heavy brass tube two feet long, and an inch across, in the shape of a stylized dragon's head and mouth.
An ornate walking cane too tall for the average humanoid to use.
A lute with a bad custom paint job that the previous owner had tried to do themselves.
A small hourglass, the sand inside of it goes up instead of down.
A rather large iron pot covered in scratches and scorch marks that can't seem to be taken off.
A rope that is currently tied into a hangman's knot.


The lady on Couth places a hand teasingly on his chest and moves it up to his cheek. She leans in close to his ears and breathlessly whispers into it. "I would should you what ever you want." Her tongue flicks playfully on his ear.
The other Lady speaks up. "Why would you want to spend time with that old bored? We can entertain both of you so much better."

"Ladies." Ashtar gave them a gentlemanly bow. "Your company would indeed be a pleasure. Please, walk with me and lead us to your leader, if you have one. If not, your elder would do.""We're here on business, I'm afraid. My acquaintance here may be more open to frivolities, but I, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman does not mix business with pleasure." He gave her wink, and then held out his arm to allow her to lead. "Now, to your elder, if you please."

With childlike wonder, Briar scampered busily from shelf to shelf, pressing her nose as close as possible to each object that caught her fancy. The murmurs of awed excitement bubbled from her grinning lips, sprinkled with highly audible bursts of "Oh, what is this?!" and "What’s this do?!" whenever she saw something especially intriguing.

At first, she was drawn to the hourglass with sand that rose from below. She was lulled into an almost silent revelry as she watched the object carefully before shouting "Amazing!" and moving on to the next item of intrigue. Then the quicksilver-filled coin pulled her attention for a long enough time to cause her to stop moving again. "Whoa..." She studied the disc until the wafting smoke from the unmelting ice pulled her away. Entranced by the cold yet resilient orb, she giggled and clapped her hands to her cheeks.

Finally, having identified the three items she found most interesting, Briar turned to the knitting woman with a friendly inquiry.

"Can you tell me about these? Where did they come from? What do they do? How much?"

Alyria debates following Briar for a moment, contemplating keeping her on task, before deciding that it'll be fine for her to be distracted for now. Moving up to trail behind the women that are being asked to lead them, she complains under her breath, "Maybe I would like a sexy wench to come and try to seduce me. Maybe I like the company of both wenches and rakes."

Couth does his best to disarm the women by reaching up and grasping the attacking hand form him. He thinks that probably isn't going to do more than slow her. "To be sure your blessed but as our good man Ashtar says. We are on business." as he gives her back her hand.

He smiles to her, "Business doesn't last forever." and turns a bit to Alyria, "Wenches and Rakes both?! Really." as we follow Ashtar.

Eyeing Couth with a devilish grin, Alyria responds, "Absolutely. Just because I wish to complete a holy quest does not mean that I must behave in a holy fashion at all times. Although many seem to call out to the gods with me, for some reason."

The lady on Aster sighs and begins pouting. "Everyone is always business. I never get any fun... She wraps her arms around Aster's waist and starts leading him to the bonfire. "Do you want to speak to Our Elder or who is in charge? You are being very confusing."

The lady teasing Couth moves in between Couth and Alyria, holding on to both of their waists. I am sure the three of us can have tons of fun together. Leave the quest and business nonsense for later. Come with me and let me distract you both for a bit."

---

The lady looks up at the few items Briar has. " You don't want to know where they came from. They do what they do." She points with her knitting needle. Hourglass is 10 golds, Ice Orb is 20 0 golds, a Coin is 30 golds." She goes back to knitting.

Priestly Couth only gives Alyria a slippery wink before our lady takes charge with further offers. Couth smiles broadly, "Oh you are a tricky one for sure dear. The church would never know what to do with you." and Couth thinks, I have a few thoughts for sure. as lets himself be guided. "I can't see why the towns people are so unhappy with you all. Seem so FRIENDLY."

"Apologies, I thought they may be one and the same. Take us to your leader, please." Ashtar had to agree with Couth's assessment that these folk seemed friendly, but he could certainly understand why the townsfolk might be unhappy with them. Not everyone enjoys merriment. There was a time he enjoyed them, but nowadays... Ashtar sighed inwardly, and let the woman lead him

Although Briar’s friendly demeanor and personable smiling never faltered, the internal dialogue of her mind soured marginally at the lady’s dismissive reply. "Rude! Now I see why they want you all gone," she thought to herself. Scooping up the hourglass, Briar eyed the coin curiously. It wasn’t doing anything so far as she could tell. That meant, per the lady, it did nothing but the stated price suggested that it did do something; it was irresistible.

Aiming to lower the woman’s guard with an actual sale, Briar pulled the stated sum of 10 gold from her coin pouch and held it aloft to the knitter in order to purchase the peculiar hourglass. "Why wouldn’t I want to know? That seems silly. I bet the stories are really magical. Can’t you tell me just one? Unless they’re from someone murdered. Maybe then I really wouldn’t want to know. So then you would be right. Oh! Does that mean you can read minds?!" Hoping the woman would be relieved to see her go after the incessant conversation, Briar pushed her questions with all the energy and force of a child just learning how to ask "Why?"

Eye of the Storm followed along. He wasn't a talker. He was mostly there to back up the others for now. For now he had followed Briar, for his own reasons. The black panther never left his side. He stepped into the old lady's wagon and saw the odd assortment of goods. Immediately, he felt ill at ease. There was magic here, but what kind? He looked at the old lady most of all, like he was watching a spider in its web. He looked at her knitting, and anything out of the ordinary..

Language - Sylvan: "There are things of light and shadow in this world, and there are things of shadow and light the world in the mirror." He purred with a dark and serious tone. "Some brings gifts, some take things. An hourglass that steals what time a bearer has left. An orb that steals the warmth of the owner's heart. A coin that collects a soul. All things that return to the other side in time, bearing true value back to the one who planted the seed."

The fairy should understand his words. But would the woman? He watched for the sign of recognition...

The two ladies playfully lead Couth, Alyria, and Ashtar to the bonfire. Sitting in a wooden, ornate arm chair is an older gentleman with a thick white beard. He waves a hand, and the music and dancing slow down a little.


He is yelling loudly so everyone can hear, with a chuckle behind his voice. "Ethelinda, What did I tell you about bothering the locals?"
The main lady on Ashtar leaves his arms and rushes over to the man. "But father, you never let me have any fun, and this one is really cute." She winks at Ashtar and blows him a kiss before sitting down on the ground with her father.
The man just shakes his head and laughs heartily. "I am sorry about her. Kids..." He motions for the three of you to sit next to him. "Now, good evening. What can I do for you?"

---

Ashtar let the woman's arm go gracefully, and bowed as he would to someone in a leadership position. "She kindly guided us your way, and for that she has my gratitude." He spoke with warmth and courtesy, and he took one of the seat offered to better look the man in the eyes as he spoke.

"Some of the townsfolk, however, are less familiar with foreign customs due to their provincial life. They're used to the quiet life, perhaps, and cannot comprehend the music and laughter and dancing the night away. Some wives don't take too kindly at their husbands' lingering eyes, nor at the... delicacies they take as open advertisement. They do, however, like the business, and do not wish to cause offense at their ignorance of outside customs, so we've been sent to speak with you, and ascertain your intentions, and whether there could be an agreement of mutual benefits for both parties."

The lady sighs and looks up at Briars questions. "That hourglass." She holds out her hand, asking to see it. "We found a recently deceased elderly gentleman. That is all I know." Next to her chair is a large, wide-mouthed glass jar. It is full of a strange milky liquid with random bits of herbs and other things floating in it. Is that an eyeball? She opens the jar, and a putrid smell wafts out. She dips the hourglass into the liquid, shakes off the excess, and quickly closes the lid afterwards. She hands the hourglass back out for Briar to take in exchange for the coins.
She goes back to her knitting...

The man listens and nods, a small smile not leaving his face. "Ahh. The people want us gone. It happens from time too time. We were planning on leaving in a few days, but we can pack up sooner if you are willing to do us a favor, that is." He grabs a bottle of wine by he chair and takes a drink of it. He holds its out gestating for Alyria to grab and take a drink.

Couth smiles and simply asks, "Favors do seem to be the thing today. And what would yours be?"

Ashtar nodded to himself, ruminating the old man’s words. "It rather depends on the favor asked. What is it you have in mind?"

He motions around the bonfire. " All the favor is... is for you to join us tonight for some music, wine, and a tale I wish to tell."

The other traders are gathering around the bonfire; there are about 15 all together. You see no children in their group. Only adults ages 20 and older. The woman is dressed similar to the other ladies you have met so far, while the men are dressed in simple pants and many layers of multicolored shirts, vests, and coats.

"That sounds reasonable. I love fireside tales, and I look forward to this. Now, if only all of our companions paid you the respect due to a guest. Please, allow us a moment to gather everyone."

Handing over the hourglass to the woman and realizing the tabaxi spoke a language she knew but was not among the more common, Briar looked to him and beamed. Seeming to give actual consideration to the words spoken, she paused a moment, nodded her head, and shrugged before responding in like tongue. "Without shadow, light means nothing. A seed may begin to grow under one planter, but truly flourish in the hands of another." To emphasize her statement, she pulled a pinch of seeds from one of the pouches on her belt and held it aloft, encouraging the life within to flourish; a bouquet of wildflowers burst into petals in her palm.

She grinned again and turned back tot he woman, readying the coins in her unoccupied hand, but hesitated at the sight of the quick bath her new item just received. "Ummm, what was that? Why did you do that? That looks gross. That smells gross. I don’t want that on it." Her wrinkled nose portrayed a reluctance to touch the item after it had been washed in the unidentified mixture. Folding her fingers around the previously proffered coin, Briar’s large eyes showed a childlike sadness as she stared at the hourglass with her lips pursed together. "Will it hurt me?"

This old hag sure does little to avoid the accusation of witchcraft... Eye of the Storm thought glumly, as he leaned in the door with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. As for his fairy companion, he had hoped for a little more caution. But that was not in the nature of the fey, he supposed..

As much as she enjoyed revelry and merriment, a shiver worked up her spine. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly causing it, but something wasn’t right about this. They’d happily leave if we joined? And why were the women so determined to distract us?

Upon being offered the bottle, she took it and gave the mouth of it a sniff. Was this a foreign wine? Raising it, she asked, "And what do I have the pleasure of drinking?" Before hearing the answer, she turned up the bottle, taking two gulps before handing it back.

Couth still in his priestly mode drinks very little. He isn't much of a dancing and at best can be captured to chat with. He has to berate his mind constantly there to keeping himself from indulging. He seems a bit more alert.

The bottle smells like a cheap red wine. The label on the side of the wine bottle says it was made by a Wizard of the Wines. It does not taste funky at all. It has a vibrant ruby hue and unfolds on the palate with juicy grape flavors, making it an approachable and enjoyable choice for casual occasions. With notes of cherries and plums, it offers a smooth finish.

---

Still knitting, the lady replies. "The cleansing fluid is safe. It removes any evil spirits or curses the item might hold." She takes the coins and plops them into small chest hidden by a blanket by her chair.
Ashtar walks into the shop, asking Briar and Eye of the Storm to join them at the fire.

Briar collected her new trinket but instead of immediately tucking it into a pouch for safekeeping, she held it out at arms length, still displeased with the "cleansing fluid" situation. Following the lead of Ashtar and Eye of the Storm, Briar made her way out of the wagon, though not without making an impulsive swipe at the coin.

The tale was tragic, but one that ended with hope, Ashtar’s favorite type of story, but… Return home? It’s fortunate that the favor was merely to listen to the story.

Ashtar’s face softened. "That was a wonderful yarn, well woven by a master of the weave, I thank you for sharing it with us. Where is home, exactly? How far from here?"

Couth is well taken by the tale. He offers in as well as to Ashtar's question, "As a priest of Lathander I would gladly take up your quest."

Pocketing her prizes gleefully, Briar punctuated her steps away from the old woman’s wagon with a series of bouncing prances. Arriving just in time for the old man’s tale, she parked herself near enough the bonfire to watch the crackling tapestry with awe. Enraptured by what she thought was going to be a story of adventure, the fairy’s wondrous enthrallment collapsed into confusion as the tale ended with a request for aid.

"Wait, what?" Glancing towards Ashtar and Couth, Briar tilted her head to the side and mused, "I can see why the town wants them gone. The woman doing sales is rude and this one doesn’t know how to finish a story." She stood and looked to the rest of the group she arrived with to gauge their responses.

He takes another swig of wine and passes it towards Briar. "This could be a story for you to finish, my dear fey. If you are interested in helping, Readjusting in his seat, he turns to Couth and Ashtar. We come from a land called Barovia; it is less than a day's ride from here. The other Barovians would be pleased to have another follower of the Morninglord around. If the rest of you are willing, we could leave tonight."

Ashtar shot Briar a glare. "Heed not the words of critics, sir. It was an excellent tale."

He gave the prospect some consideration. Less than a day's ride to listen to some old lady, then back home for full payment. That didn't sound so bad at all. "Sound fair to me. I cannot promise anything more than to listen to this Madam Eva, but I shall accompany you tonight."

Never one to shy away from a proffered beverage, the tiny fairy accepted the win from the elder, poured a hearty gulp down her throat, and held it back in return.

"I didn’t mean to suggest the story was bad. It just wasn’t complete." She shrugged and fell momentarily silent as a thought occurred; this man was offering a chance for her to truly carve her own path through this life, to live an adventure and to have an identity all her own. Then she beamed wider than before, the leaves across her skin kicked up into an excited swirl, and she blurted out, "Let’s finish the story! Then we can be legends!"

Eye of the Storm, surrounded by the customary blanket of pipe-smoke that had settled as he listened to the tale, was far less enthusiastic.
"Really? Just usurp a tyrant? Generally such men have the means to stay in power. What do you take us for, some mercenaries? Assassins? Where are the heroes among your own people hmm? Tell these bright-eyed youths what became of them!"

Alyria considered the feline's point before stating, "That may not be the case in this situation due to his tyranny. Most likely anyone who would help him would happily double cross him if he's as bad as it seems, meaning his ability to stay in power is low."

Turning to look at Stanimir, she asked, "Is this curse he's under unbreakable? Would you not want to try that before ending his life? I cannot imagine that that is your goal after fighting so hard for each other. Surely, he must be saveable."

Couth adds in to add to Alyria thoughts, "By the morning rise, I would say most all soles deserve a second chance in life."

"We wish to save him and our home as much as possible. However it takes. If the curse is breakable, we know not how to do it nor where to look." He sighs and looks at Eye of the Storm. "My people are few and only travelers and traders. We do not have heroes among our people."

"If you are willing to help, we can leave as soon as able. It will take us a short amount of time to load everything up and get ready for the road."

"My feline friend, you ask questions with noble intentions, but let us exercise calmness." Ashtar nodded at Eye of the Storm. "These folks are clearly in need of help. A short journey to speak to their Madam seems a reasonable exchange for them this place in due time, wouldn't you say?"

He turned back to address Stanimir. "Well, I for one, am ready, and it seems I'm not the only one."

"Like you Ashtar. I too am ready to travel."

With a clap and an elated squeak, Briar shot up in the air, ready to travel. "Do you need help loading up? I’m happy to help secure things down so they don’t tumble during travel," she offered, failing to mention that fact that some of those items would be secured in her own purse if she got the chance.

Smothering her giggle at knowing Briar's real intentions for offering to help, Alyria offered with more genuity, "I too am ready to depart and am willing to assist with securing the wagons for travel."

While the travelers are rearranging crates, boxes, and trunks from one wagon to another, the old man introduces himself and the others to the party. He introduces himself as Stanimir, You then meet his daughter Damia (The lady that was all over Ashter), and then his Son Ratka.
He motions to the large wooden wagon as it gets closed and locked up for travel, explaining that the older woman in there is his grandmama Luludja. After that, he goes around and introduces you to the others in there caravan (unnamed NPCs).

The introductions are quick and mainly in passing. The group helps manly by transferring closed chests or sacks from one wagon to another and by holding a horse still while they tighten and adjust its harness. Once everything is loaded and the horses are harnessed to wagons, Stanimir calls the group over to load into the back of one wagon. "The journey will take through the night. We left some blankets for you to get some rest." He the waits nearby incase anyone has questions

Stanimir

Damia

Ratka

Luludja

Knowing we have an evening to kill, Couth from all the introductions will make his way to his lady that he smiled to earlier (No name but no name is fine.) for the evening in her wagon with the suppled blanket. Making good on his smiled promise. Couth has a few gold coins that might also disappear in the evening.

Eye of the Storm was clearly not pleased with the events. He questioned the others' intentions. Overthrowing a local ruler was hardly smart. It had a tendency of getting one end up on a chopping block and he voiced as much to them. He had a tribe to look after. This all seemed like a fool's errand..

Feeling the warmth of an incessant itch, Briar used the bustle of packing up to slip away and tuck into a shadow so she could examine her once sticky fingers now gone stinging with the burn of rash. Brows furrowed, she looked carefully over her skin to identify the source. She grew suspicious of the bath the woman had given her hourglass and produced the item to check its current status.

Where needed, Ashtar helped load the wagons, but he was not a man prone to inserting himself unto strangers, and thus only helped when asked, or if someone clearly needed it.

He listened to Eye of the Storm's displeasure, reminding the feline creature that this was simply a mission to hear the Madam talk for now. Ashtar himself had reservations, but nothing so strong, and he took this as simply another opportunity to fatten up his starving purse. Perhaps he'd go away in seclusion again after the mission. This group was quite rowdy.

@GeneCortess Grabbing your blanket to spend the evening with your new-found female friend, Lalya (name can change), you find her in the back of the wagon with four other travelers you met earlier. They all seem to be getting cozy to get some rest for the night, too.

Finishing up her exam, the fairy repacked her hourglass and hopped into the aforementioned wagon.

@Redamancy The Hourglass doesn't appear to have anything strange or wrong with it. The rash looks like a normal red rash. Perhaps you touched something you shouldn't have, and now your hand is irritated. It should hopefully clear up in a few days.

Dearest Alaina,

The financial problem that afflicts the living may soon be reprieved, that I may search for you once more. I write this from the creaking 'comforts' of a Barovian wagon as we journey to its people to glean what information we can regarding the plight of its people. There's talk of curses and princes and a search for heroes, typical fireside tales of peasant fare, but I admit the old tale weaver enraptured me in his net, and I felt compelled to go.

I travel with strange companions, but the task is a simple one. We shall speak to a Barovian Madam and forthwith decide whether or not to take up this 'heroes' quest. Do you recall my performance in Dante's Descent? To think that I could play the part of a hero in truth, and not in costume, were you to see me in such a light--it makes me recall your sweet laughter. But perhaps that shall be my fate. The gold is promising, the mission simple, and yet...

I cannot deny the cold dread stirring within me.



Ashtar spent his last remaining waking hours for the night as he was always wont to do, by writing a letter to his lost dearly beloved.

Dissatisfied with her self-diagnosis - or rather, lack thereof - Briar turned begrudgingly to sleep hoping to see some change by the morrow. She wasn't terribly interested in knowing where they were going or how to get there and decided the best thing she could do for herself was to rest.

Bleep. Couth is not seen till morning.

With a lot of curiosity, and some trepidation, Alyria tries to stay up to see where we go.

With the party, besides Couth, loaded into one wagon, the travelers snap the house reins and the caravan glides silently down a partially forested path, adorned with ethereal lanterns that cast a warm, flickering glow. The rhythmic jingling of colorful small bells and the soft murmur of melodic tunes emanate from the caravan, weaving a spell of enchantment through the nocturnal air. As the moonlight filters through the rustling leaves, the mystical procession advances with an air of magic, leaving behind a trail of mystery. Couth is enjoying some time with Lalya and others in another wagon. The caravan of traders heads down the path for a good 30 minutes before most of the party gets comfortable and is lulled to sleep by the entrancing dings of the bells.

Eyes of the Storm (And maybe Alyria) stay up and keep a watchful eye on the road, seeing where this caravan calls home.

Eye of the Storm keen knowledge of the local territories has him confused. The road the caravan has been traveling on should have passed the village of New Troit a few minutes ago but they did not.
Eye of the Storm pulls back the wagon's clothe flap to get a better look and can only see a dense thick fog. The fog is so thick he can not even see the tracks the caravan wheels are making nor his hand waving in front of his face.

Something was amiss! Where had this fog come from? And why were their hosts not perturbed by it? The strange old lady was not the only one with tricks it seemed. Quickly Eye of the Storm woke his companions.
"Wake up! wake up! Something is amiss! Trickery is afoot!"

With a disgruntled murmur that still managed to carry a singsong tone, Briar reaches to rub the sleep from her eyes and drowsily asks, "What’s happening? Is something wrong?" As consciousness settles upon the fairy, she lurches upright, realizing she has awoken in an unfamiliar location. A moment of scanning the space eases her mind as she recalls the evening prior’s project and she turns her attention to her hand, absentmindedly asking Eye of the Storm in an exaggerated pout, "Why’d you wake me up?"

Ashtar opened his eyes, unsure what to make of the feline's words as wakefulness slowly descended back down to him. "What's amiss? Is there an attack?"

The Tabaxi hissed his reply, wary of the driver's intentions..
"Magical fog. And our hosts are not surprised by it. They're up to something!"

Setting aside the concern for her hand at the present moment, Briar scurries to the edge of the wagon and peers into the fog, straining her eyes to get a better understanding.

"Are you sure it’s magical and just not a really, really, really thick fog? You know how forests can be…"

The caravan keeps traveling through the fog with no problems. Stanimir hums softly to himself as they roll along. The lantern's glow are oddly, eerily, and barely visible in the dense fog. Stanimir does not appear worried.

Briar taking a better look at the fog, you don't think it is completely natural. The way it descends like a haunting shroud, its tendrils curling eerily around the wagons, and how it conceals the path ahead. Within its thick embrace, spectral spirits materialize, their ethereal forms flickering amidst the swirling mist.

Briar scrunches her face, disgruntled by what she has found in her examination beyond their wagon. Noting that Stanimir seems unphased, she is not comforted. Between the old man in the fog and the old lady vendor, this group has proven themselves to be a shady bunch.

She waves Ashtar over as she scoots closer to Eye of the Storm, partially to speak in secret, partially out of fear and hoping to find a sense of safety next to the larger body, the fairy whispers "There are things in the fog. You are right. I don’t like it. What do we do?"

Ashtar scowled. "Seems your caution proved correct, my feline friend. Wherever they're taking us, I fear something afoot. There's naught to do at this point, but see how it plays out, unless you wish to attack these folks and attempt to turn back."

He walked up to the old man. "Stanimir, what is this fog? It is magical, and my companion suspects foul play."

With a slight chuckle, "The fog is nothing to worry about. Normal around these parts. Head back to sleep. The fog will pass by by morning." Stanimir goes back to his Humming.

Ashtar was taken aback by Stanimir's dismissive attitude. "Would you do me the courtesy of informing me about the magical fog? Where I'm from, it is good manners for hosts to answer questions asked by guests. Dismissals and secrets has a habit of making one party think ill of another."

He takes a puff of his pipe sitting nearby and blows out a puff of smoke. The smoke swirls and mixes with the fog, before being swallowed up by it. "Nothing really to tell. Stay in the wagon, and you will be fine. Fog just makes everyone get all turned around. Messes with your sense of direction. People tend to get confused and lost if they stay in it too long. I wasn't going to tell you because I was expecting you to be asleep."

Ashtar nodded. It wasn't the most comforting answer, but there was no reason Ashtar feared for why the man might conjure a false story, so he took it for the truth. "Thank you."

With that, he returned to tell the others what he'd been told. "I'm going back to sleep. If the fog's purpose is to addle the mind, then staring at it would only make things worse."

With little reassurance about the dangers within the fog, the party settles back down into a wagon and falls back to sleep. The rest of the night goes by without incident. The night is silent and clam.

---

Morning creeps in, and the party jolts awake to the unsettling symphony of a lone wolf's mournful howl, swiftly joined by a chorus of another couple dozen wolves. Their haunting cries reverberate eerily through the mist-laden woods. The once-haunting howls transform into a nightmarish cacophony, a deafening amalgamation of barks, brays, nips, and snarls. The unsettling chorus draws nearer, corrals the wagons on the right and left side, as it ominously rolls forward into the foggy unknown.

Couth says, "That sounds close." as he now quickly moves to get his chain shirt on. And looks as he is going to be making a hasty move out of the wagon soon.

Ashtar peered into the fog. "Howling wolves in the mist. An ominous beginning."

Having tried to stay awake, yet fall asleep, Alyria was disturbed to wake up to the startling news about the fog that surrounded them. While it still sent warning alarms in her mind, she too had drifted back off with the news that it could fool the mind. Now, awake once again to the sound of a pack, she was attempting to be alert for what was happening. Dragging her sword closer to her, she muttered, "I do not like this.
Something is wrong but I know not what. I feel it though."

Unsettled and feeling smaller than ever, Briar hunted herself a corner of the wagon where she could feel relatively unseen, attempting to secure herself enough to sleep with reasonable assurance she will remain safely stowed.

Briar drifted off at some point, she found, as she awoke with a jolt in the new day’s dawn. The harmony of haunted hounds heralding the hidden sun sent the fairy’s blood running cold and she searched for clarity beyond the wagon, peering meekly beyond the safety of her makeshift nest bed.

WIS Save DC 8. Priestly Couth saves with a 19 as he is busy arming himself. Which he probably doesn't have enough time to do it.

Ashtar stared into the fog, seeing hazy movements out there. Or it seemed they were moving—there! For a moment something emerged, or was it his imagination? And then it was swallowed up by the fog once more, and the shadows turned hazy, losing focus…

Ashtar slumped to the floor.

Emerging from the wagon's cloth tarp cover, the party is met with an unsettling revelation: the fog has withdrawn, but visibility extends only to the eerie edge of the woods. Suddenly, a cacophony erupts as dozens upon dozens of wolves snarl and stampede from the lingering mist, surrounding the wagon on both sides. These wild, vicious hounds maliciously nip and bite at the wagon wheels, their intent chillingly deliberate, sparing the vehicle from harm.

Ashtar, Briar, and Couth, fixated on the approaching horde, bear witness to something deeply disturbing. In fleeting moments, they swear to observe wolves grotesquely tearing off their own flesh, morphing into monstrous hybrids of human and wolf. Yet, upon a second glance, the creatures revert to their lupine forms, leaving an unsettling ambiguity.

With his keen eyes, Ashtar scans the woods and locks gazes with a single obsidian black wolf, its immense size rivaling that of the wagons. The black wolf's piercing blood-red eyes seem to penetrate Ashtar's very soul, locking him in harrowing eye contact. Upon breaking free, Ashtar collapses unconscious into the wagon, his limp form now resting on Alyria's lap.

*Swoon*

Couth time of spreading the news of the Morning Lord has come to an end. Lathander priests are not chaste, but we have our ways.

His further time will be spent in chain shirt with a handaxe in his hands across his legs as he sits. He may or may not be awake doing so.

A dreadful sensation fills Briar’s core, the horrific nausea kindled by sights of the inconceivable. The fairy looks from one to another face among her traveling party in search of some sense of security. Finding not as much as she would like, she observes the old man at the helm.

"Where are we?" she demands of him, keeping her eyes fixated on his posture and potential expressions.

The old man has a straight face as the wagons steadily roll forward. He chuckles and yells over the wolves. "THIS IS HOME!!! WE JUST ENTERED THE OUTSKIRTS OF BAROVIA!!! THAT IS JUST THE WELCOMING PARTY!"

Balls to the walls. Couth isn't at all happy with the welcoming party and losing the rest of his night's sleep over it too. He hazards to think of how these lands around here must be. But hold his guard over the wagon he is in. How much belladonna and silver can be had comes to mind. He had heard the tales and life is real. Says a quiet prayer and probably needs a lot more of them.

He does talk some with those in the wagon about what he just experienced.

The thunderous stampede of wolves relentlessly pursues the caravan of wagons, stretching an agonizing 15 minutes that feel like an eternity, their ceaseless barking drowning out any attempts at conversation. The colossal black wolf, once an ominous presence, now strangely evaporates into nothingness. Despite the visceral fear, the wolves neither harm the wagons nor attack any caravan members.

As the fog spills forth from the encroaching forest, devouring the road behind, ominous stone buttresses emerge from the impenetrable woods, draped in gray obscurity. Massive iron gates, rusted and adorned with tenacious dew, loom ahead. Headless stone statues, once imposing, now lie in ruin at their feet, offering only a chilling silence. A solitary black raven perches atop one of the headless monuments.

Approaching the statues and gates, the wolves abruptly cease their chase, vanishing back into the depths of the woods. Just as the caravan nears the decrepit gates, they swing open with an unearthly creak. The lone raven, perched on the headless statue, takes flight, adding an eerie touch to the unfolding scene.

The caravan safely crosses under stone statues and through the gate.

Watching the terrain unfold with ever-increasing horror at the predicament the group has found themselves in, Briar places her hand instinctually and firmly to her chest. The leaves inked across her shoulders seem to shrivel and crumble as her fear mounts, before blooming again as she takes steadying deep breaths. They wilt again as she lets out shaking, uneasy gasps and the cycle continues on as the wagons cross the threshold of the property gates. Dumbstruck and unsure, she sizes up the situation in her mind, feeling like the group has made an awful mistake and are in way over their heads. How can they get back out of here? The wolves certainly wouldn’t let them leave.

Gently smacking Ashtar on the cheek, she smiles as she teases, "Precious as you may be, and though I may not mind, I doubt you want to keep your head in my lap. Have some strength back and rise, lovely."

The smile fades from her face as she sees the change in the scenery beyond the carriage fabric. Unease fills her veins at the sight before her. The realization of the difficulty they could be facing is beginning to hit her as she prepares for what lies beyond the gates. Looking amongst her fellow adventurers and friends, she prepares to ask them who is ready to continue when she notices Briar's expression. While fear isn't a feeling Alyria experiences often, she doesn't begrudge the fairy for struggling with the emotion. With a comforting smile, she fluffs up her long, wavy hair in an invitation in case the girl can't hide in the fur she keeps glancing at. Once she sees Briar notice the gesture, she preceeds to redirect her eyes back to the caravan opening to see what does lie beyond the entrance to these new lands.

Couth takes the sight of the gates as rather welcoming compared to the options. He finds it hard to believe this NORMAL. This is by far a strange place. 'He is sure he isn't in Kansas anymore.'

He will unload himself from the wagon once inside and catch up with the others, "Wow. This place is unreal." He looks a touch tired from the last of the trip in.

Edit: So is the sight of a fairy (Briar) on top of Alyria

Never one to hesitate on an invitation, Briar leaps from Eye of the Storm’s side and clambers lightly up Alyria’s back. Lithe and weighing in at a mere 30 lbs soaking wet, the fairy perches on the paladin’s shoulders in an elevated piggyback style. Her wings flutter as she settles in to the lush tangle of thick hair and she sighs contentedly when her chin comes to rest on the top of Alyria’s head.

"Mmmm," she murmurs quietly, closing her eyes to block the view of the approaching sense of doom, appreciative and whispering an acknowledgment so low that only the lady may hear. "Thank you."

Eye of the Storm was not pleased. The wolves were unnatural, monstrous. But they would not attack the caravan. Why was that? More foulness on the part of their hosts?
"Unnatural is what this is. I have never heard of this place. To think it was a day's travel away?"
He looks ahead, his sharp nose picking up an ominous scent...
"I smell death on the air..."

Couth says to leopard Eye of the Storm, "That was a magical ride. Something we weren't told. Yes. This is all wrong but keep in mind the way back is the same we came most likely. And I too can smell that. This place is sinister."

He smiles and says to Alyria, "New meaning to 'Monkey on your back'."

Eye of the Storm and Couth both smell death. The The foul scent leads you to a human corpse half-buried in the underbrush about fifteen feet from the road. The young man appears to be a commoner. His muddy clothes are torn and raked with claw marks. Something has been feasting on the body. The man has obviously been dead for several days. He holds a crumpled envelope in one hand. The caravan doesn't stop for the body and keeps rolling by.

Oh. So, Couth with carefulness will travel over to the body and uplift the note it clutches and surprised no one else has. And see if he can read it.

The letter has a large "B" set into its wax seal. The parchment is worn and flimsy. It reads

"Hey guys. The soup is getting thicker here. Take a look at this." Couth presents the note to everyone.

With everyone back in the wagon, the caravan trudges on through the muddy path. On either side of the path, ancient trees stand like silent sentinels, cloaked in perpetual mist. Thick fog weaves through the gnarled branches, shrouding the woodland in an eerie gray haze that distorts sounds and blurs the boundaries between shadow and substance.

The path opens up into a large, treeless, foggy plain. The foggy plain stretches endlessly, a monochromatic expanse where the boundaries between earth and sky blur into a seamless, spectral canvas. Silence, besides the soft dinging of the wagon's bells, prevails, broken only by the occasional mournful call of unseen creatures or the muffled rustle of the fog as it caresses the ground. The air is cool and damp, the moisture clinging to everything it touches. In the sky, the group notices there is no soft glow from the early morning sun. Just an endless expanse of rolling gray clouds that subdued the hopeful touch of the sun's rays.

The wagon rolls on for another hour or so through the foggy plan when unexpectedly tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for the mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance.

Ashtar shot awake, in pain, but in worse embarrassment at having rested on a woman's lap other than Alaina's. "A-apologies." He stammered. "I don't know what came over me." He stood up, only to sway and had to catch himself from falling over. He collapsed back onto the seat and rested his head in his hands.

There was some commotion, but Ashtar waited until everyone settled down, before looking over the letter Couth discovered. The pit of dread inside him grew. Some creature of the night was stealing young women. Is that what befell you, fair Alaina? But no. She was a capable warrior. She wouldn't succumb so easily as this Ireena had, and yet, the thought lingered in his mind.

Ashtar shook his head, and handed the letter back. Perhaps they could still turn back, wait until morning if need be, but Ashtar thought it unlikely. His mind drifted back to Alaina. He stared at the back of Stanimir's head, though he saw nothing but his past.

Distracted from the journey by Briar suddenly climbing up her back, Alyria giggles and she whispers back to the little fairy, "Any time, you need not ask if you seek shelter."

Further amused, she can't help but smile at Ashtar's reaction. "You need not apologize either," she lets him know with a soft smile. "I know that you had no ill intentions, nor would I expect any to come from you." She didn't fault him for it either. She's seen the softness and adoration in his eyes when he writes. She knows what that look means; she can recall when she wore it herself. The longing of a loved one is too familiar an expression.

Feelings of guilt begin to creep in before her attention is rediverted to the letter being passed around. Knowing Briar is hiding, she reads the letter out loud for her and everyone else to hear. "It seems we are now in the heart of very dark lands. I feel that the fact this request was given if rather noble of the prince, but if many forms of evil intent are all sequestered in this area, I feel we will have a more difficult task ahead of us than previously hoped."

Priestly Couth adjust is chain shirt a bit, "Let us amuse ourselves and steal a moment or three to indulge and speak with this Kolyan Indirovich Burgomaster on the dire matters."

The caravan rolls through the desolate village. Few villagers aimlessly walk about the village; most make a wide escape from the wagons. The caravan wheels pass a building with a sign over the door that, creaking on its hinges, reads "Bildrath's Mercantile". A raven sits on the sigh and flies off as you pass. Another building has a gaping doorway, and a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the "Blood on the Vine Tavern" As the wagons roll past the main crossroads, the wailing cry becomes louder to the south. To the north, up a slanted path, you see an older lady pushing a cart of some sort.

After driving through the village, the wagons roll over arching grey stone bridges that span over a river as clear as a blue winter sky.
Moving onward, the caravan passes a low wall, crumbling in places, that partially encloses a small plot of graves shrouded in fog An old wooden gallow that creaks in a chill wind that blows down from the high ground to the west. 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. A raven sit on top of the sigh post; it flies off as you pass. (Is that the same raven?) The northwest fork slants down and disappears into the trees, while the southwest fork clings to an upward slope.

The caravan takes the Northwest and starts quickly rolling down a very rough and curvy path...

The road gradually disappears and is replaced by a twisted, muddy path through the trees. The caravan slowly trudges through. The canopy of mist and branches suddenly gives way to black clouds boiling far above. There is a clearing here, next to a river that widens to form a small lake several hundred feet across. A roaring fire is a good distance away from two colorful round tents, each ten feet in diameter, that are pitched. There is one person sitting by the fire, and two more exit the tents as the wagons slow to a stop. A much larger tent stands near the shore of the lake, its sagging form lit from within. Near this tent, a few unbridled horses drink from the river.



The caravan slows to a stop, circling the wagons. Stanimir hops out of the wagon and fully opens the back for the party.

"Let me speak with Madam Eva. I will grab you when she is ready." Stanimir walks over to the man by the fire; they have a quick chat, and then Stanimir enters the larger tent by the small lake.

The man by the fire waves the party over. Come eat and listen to a tale while you wait."
The rest of the travelers start securing the wagons, taking the horses to the lake to drink, and unloading a few bags of goods by the tents.

Couth hops off the wagon and strides over to the larger tent. He has all his goods with him. He watches his step as he moves as the thoughts of falling surely doesn't appeal. He only minorly looks about.

The man by the fire calls over to Couth as he gets closer to the larger tent. "Please come Sit, Enjoy some stew. Madam Eva is not ready to see visitors just yet. "

Still perched within the safety of Alyria's locks, Briar clings to her newfound shield and whispers, "Do we have to eat?" Given how quickly their journey turned from routine caravan shuttle to a nightmare abduction, the fairy is uneasy about proffered goods from the locals. "I don't think we should. I can keep us fed."

Using the hair of her paladin friend to obscure some of her movement, Briar reaches for the trinket she keeps hidden in her bodice and produces a fist of berries. She pops one into her mouth immediately and reaches a small hand forward with a small purple berry for Alyria as well. "I have enough for everyone," she concludes.

Couth says to the man, "Well some stew sounds grand. The trip here has been rather different. Is the weather always like this?" as he finds a spot not far from the fire to sit.

He calls over to Alyria and company, "Stew will go well with some berry."

The man sighs and stirs the pot of stew next to the fire. "Even if you wish not to eat, I must insist you sit and wait for Madam Eva. She is older than anyone of us knows. It takes some time. Please sit. Wait. "

Eye of the Storm warily sat. He took one of Briar's berries, knowing their worth. And he would sooner forage his own food than take what his hosts would offer, even if this land had such an obvious foulness to it. He had long decided that this land was cursed, their hosts dishonest, and he wanted nothing more than turn back and head home. Now all he needed to do was convince his companions to abandon this foolish quest.

He glanced to the tent where this Madame Eva apparently was. Older than any? With their luck so far, this would be some hag...

Ashtar walked himself out of the wagon with much effort, though he hid it well in his bearing. His growling stomach liked the idea of a stew, but being abducted through magical fog and nightmarish wolves gave him pause. Still, if these folks wanted to incapacitate them, they could’ve likely done it while they were asleep, so Ashtar graciously took the stew, savouring its warmth and the comfort of a hearth. Briar’s goodberry proved nourishing as well, and soon colors were returning to his face.

After introductions and small talk, Ashtar finally got back on topic. "Please, tell us this story you spoke of. If you’re half as fine a storyteller as Stanimir is, it should prove enjoyable."

Couth has pocketed the berry and looking forward to more than his share of stew. He doesn't even care what type of meat is in it. Couth is a big fan of meat in any form. He shows no distrust at all and seems very much a home devouring his stew. "Should be interesting what tale Madam Eva has for us."

He tells Briar, I will try the berry after I have some great stew."

Climbing out herself, Alyria with her fairy backpack began their trek towards the group sitting. She watched Ashtar closely as he made his way over. She was sure he wasn't quite on his feet, but she wasn't going to challenge him unless he genuinely needed help. Still, this group was important to her, she was going to watch over them.

She suppressed the sound, yet her chest shook with the giggles she held in at the adorable question whispered in her ear. "No," the paladin whispered back to Briar, "we don't have to eat the stew offered to us." Alyria didn't have any qualms about eating it herself, but she cared for her friend and decided to show some solidarity by munching on the offered berries without complaint as she sat beside Couth and listened attentively.

After passing out a few bowls of stew, the man chuckles. "I am not as elaborate a storyteller as Stanimir. This is a story that has been shared over the last few years. Hopefully, it will keep you entertained while you wait." He takes a drink from a bottle of wine and passes it on to Couth.
"The story goes that a mighty wizard—I can never remember his name—came to this land over a year ago. He was a very charismatic man. He thought he could rally the people of Barovia against the evils of this land He stirred them with thoughts of revolt and bore them to the castle en masse. When the evil lord 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. 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 evil one fell upon him, the wizard's magic couldn't save him. It is said he was thrown a thousand feet to his death. A few villagers 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 Ivlis had already spirited him away. The wizard's body was never found."

The man gives the group a few moments to let that sink in.
Stanimir exits Madam Eva's Tent and calls to the party. "Madam Eva is ready to see you now." He holds the tent open for the party to enter, only darkness looms inside...

Couth had his fill of stew and he surely washed it down with wine. "Always good tales." He is a good listener but surely not a bard.

Couth rises from his comfy spot. Looks to the others. "Well it is showtime." and he makes his way to the larger tent.

Briar remains at her perch, clinging to the shoulders of Alyria and resting her chin upon the paladin's head as she listens. With each movement and shift of Alyria's positioning, Briar's wings flutter ever so gently so she can maintain the most centered and equally distributed weight possible and be the least intrusive tumor upon her generous host. In aims of keeping her hands busy, over the course of the tale, Briar begins to weave small braids throughout her friend's hair.

Ashtar listened intently, and thanked the man for the tale after it was done. "It was an entertaining tale, if nothing else, and I hope it is only that, a tale." He nods at the man, and then made his way over to see Madam Eva.

Thanking their host for the story, Alyria rises herself and her new favorite "backpack" and heads toward the tent. Just at the entrance of it, she stops. Her mind begins to run rapidly with the tale told moments before, the strange things happening, it all gives her chills.

Despite her reckless nature, she decides for once to try a touch of caution. Casting out her divine senses, Alyria tries to discover any unsavory kind among them.

Warily Eye of the Storm followed, looking over his shoulder to make sure there was no further trickery on the part of their hosts. Hopefully this would soon be over and done with..

Alyria opens her senses for any strange creatures nearby, and she notices nothing out of the ordinary.

---

Veiled in an otherworldly ambiance, Madam Eva's tent unfolds in a mysterious triad of chambers, each partitioned by a curtain of ethereal beads, cloth ribbons, and desiccated tendrils of ancient vines. Within the middle room, a low, circular table resides, adorned with a luxuriant velvet shroud that cradles a tableau of partially molten candles, a familiar bottle of crimson wine, and a deck of ornate cards.
Seated at the table, cloaked in ornate crimson robes, is Madam Eva. Her hood partially veils her face as she sits with her hands entwined. The air within the tent hums with secrets, and the flickering candlelight casts cryptic shadows upon the aged parchment of the cards, setting the stage for a mystical communion with the enigmatic forces that reside in the liminal spaces of fate and the beyond.


As you each enter the room and knee down at the round table (Briar can stand), Madam Eva Greets each of you and motions you to see around the table.
At Couth, " May the Morninglord shine upon you in these dark lands, Brother Couth. "
At Briar, " I have not seen a fey like you, Dear Briar, not since your mother. Her gift could bring growth back to these lands.
At Ashtar, " Ashtar, what you lost is closer than you think. Acceptance is key."
At Alyria, "Miss Alyria, Your grandfathers lost order is within these lands. Cleanse the evil within."
At Eye of the Storm, " Your litter is growing strong and misses you, Eye of the Storm. Home is farther than you think."

As you each sit down, she grabs the deck of cards on the table and begins to slowly shuffle them.

Upon hearing Madam Eva reference her mother, Briar is visibly shocked; the leaves on her shoulders freeze for a moment as she considers what the woman’s statement means. The fairy slides from Alyria’s shoulders and stands beside the table. Her eyes are wide and confused, darting around seemingly aimlessly as she tries to find her thoughts. The fingers which had previously been fidgeting with the paladin’s hair now twist and tug among themselves before pressing against her chest with desperate force.

"She was here?" She asks in a meek voice.

Couth takes in Madam Eva words. He takes note that she appears to know a bit about each of us. Appear she is true to the trade. Still a bit shocked, he remains quiet for the moment.

Eye of the Storm's eyes narrowed as Madam Eva brought up details of his companion's lives. As she came to him he bristled at her words and his hands rubbed the pommels of his twin swords..
"Are you saying you won't let us go back?"

Ashtar was unsure of what to make of Madam Eva. He’d known charlatans who claimed mystical powers that were mere smoke and mirrors, which this woman seemed to have in abundance, and yet everything leading up to this had been too elaborate for a mere con. They weren’t exactly rich, what would be the point?

He was skeptical as she rattled off their "fortunes", and then it was his turn, and his reading was as vague as it was enticing. Ashtar’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to be calm. It was a vague reading as all readings are.

Ashtar nodded at Madam Eva, staying silent on his reading. Instead, he asked, "We were told you and your people are having issue with a prince turnes evil. Perhaps you can tell us more about that?"

Just as she sits and relaxes, Alyria stiffens at the mention of her grandfather. Her gaze sharpens as she assesses the older woman, not having put too much faith in how she appeared to be clairvoyant. She had a friend in a carnival, so she was well aware that people often would don a look similar to Madam Eva's and scam people out of their coin with false promises and untrue futures. Alyria hadn't ever said anything truly about the order, so the realization of the fact that this woman might actually have a true sight startled her.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask about it, she heard Ashtar direct the conversation onto why they were there. For now, she reigned in her desire to spout question after question at the woman. She could wait until they had the information about why they were there. Then, before leaving, Alyria would get her answers.

Madam Eva stops shuffling the cards. The cards are impatient. I must do the reading before the magic fades." She places the cards down on the table and cuts them into two decks. " You will each be allowed to ask a question once the cards are revealed."

Closing her eyes, she places her right hand over the surface of the first deck. The crimson flames dim and swirl in eldritch patterns as her lips move silently, a distant tension spreading through the air. The sounds of the rustling trees and rippling pool beyond the tent's walls begin to dim, the external world growing mute and insubstantial as the space within grows more solid—more real.
Slowly, reverently, she draws three cards from the top of the deck, laying them face down separately on the table, with the second laid between and above its partners. She then moves to the second deck, drawing two more cards. The first she places below the first three, forming a cross. The second, she places in the center.
The lights of the candles sway like silhouettes, leaning in toward the cards like anxious watchers, yet the air in the tent is perfectly still. No light intrudes through the seams in the tent's walls, and no voice rings out in the silence. Shadows and mist swirl at the boundaries of the tent, where the darkness of the deepest night dwells, but here, at its center, light yet reigns.

She then moves her wrinkled hand to the left-most card—the first. She closes her eyes and tilts her head, as if listening to an unspoken word. The arcane lights swirl and then shift, their colors changing to a deep, piercing blue. "This card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancients will help you better understand your enemy."
She flips the card.
The cerulean light dances across its surface, revealing an illustration of:

"The Nine of Swords—Torturer." Her dark pupils shift from side to side, as though reading from an unseen text. "There is a town where all is not well. There you will find a house of corruption, and within, a boy corrupt with power."

She moves her hand to the second card, this one at the top of the cross. As she closes her eyes and listens once more, the candlelight flares, its color bursting into a fierce, cheery yellow.
"This card tells of a powerful force for good and protection, a holy symbol of great hope."
She flips the card.
This time, the light reveals a new illustration:

"The Four of Stars—Abjurer." Her eyes stare deep into the shadows that lurk in the corners of the tent. "I see a fallen house guarded by a great stone dragon. Light the beacon."

She moves her hand to the third card, at the right arm of the cross, her eyelids closing like a trance, her lips pursed in quiet contemplation. The candlelight vanishes, for a heartbeat, and then returns in a nova of fierce, burning white, so pure and strong and clean that it hurts to look at, burns to see..
Madam Eva's eyes snap open, burning with fierce determination. "This is a card of power and strength. It tells of a weapon of vengeance: a sword of sunlight."
She flips the card.
The light reveals a third illustration:
"The Nine of Stars—The Conjurer." The crone's voice is strong with purpose. "I see a dead village, drowned by a river, ruled by one who has brought great evil into the world. The Sword Tainted with Blood."

She moves to the fourth card, at the bottom of the cross, and listens once more, tracing small circles across its back as she hums a contemplative note. The magic flames leap and dance upon their wicks, now casting swirling violet embers into the air as the walls of the tent gleam with the shimmer of twilight.
"This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness."
She flips the card.
This time, the illustration revealed is:

"The Beast." Madam Eva leans forward. "A werewolf holds a secret hatred for your enemy and one of your hearts. Use both to your advantage."

Finally, she moves her hand to the fifth card and nearly recoils, her brow furrowing until the wrinkles split her forehead like a trench. Behind her, shadows encircle the candlelight until the light is very nearly swallowed by the creeping darkness.
When next she speaks, Madam Eva's rasping voice is scarce above a whisper. "Your enemy is a creature of darkness, whose powers are beyond mortality. This card will lead you to him!"
Her hand trembles above the card for a silent moment, and then deft, ancient fingers reveal its opposite side. In the darkness, the fifth and final illustration is only barely visible through the smoke and unnatural murk.

Madam Eva slowly exhales. "The Darklord . He lurks in the depths of darkness, in the one place to which he must return."

As the last syllable passes her lips, the old woman freezes—and then rocks back in her chair, her eyes rolling until their whites gleam like pearls in the darkness—and then she snaps back, the candlelight burning down to its ordinary crimson glow.
The sound of the outside world returns—the voices of the Vistani, the crackling of the bonfire, the whisper of the wind, and the lapping of the waves against the shore of the pool. Light, grey and insubstantial, filters in once more through the canvas walls of the tent, and you feel yourselves breathe for the first time since the reading began.
Madam Eva says nothing. She only regards you silently with dark, heavy eyes.

Ashtar eyed the woman, tapping his finger slowly on the table. He didn't get the sense she was a charlatan, but her words were vague enough that random events could be construed as fulfillment of a prophecy, such was the ways of charlatans. And yet, if her powers of prophecy were true...

One question. What one question could he ask? Where to find her? What must be done to find her? Ashtar continued watching her and tapping his finger. At last, he spoke with a measured calmness, though his heart thundered. "The one I seek... what must I accept to find her?"

Quest and such to do:
Find a house of corruption, and within, a boy corrupted with power.
Find the fallen house guarded by a great stone dragon. Light the beacon.
Find the dead village, drowned by a river, ruled by one who has brought great evil into the world. The Sword Tainted with Blood.
A werewolf holds a secret hatred for your enemy and one of your hearts. Use both to your advantage.
Our enemy The Darklord. He lurks in the depths of darkness, in the one place to which he must return.

Couth is caught between asking about something of his own interest and that of what has been foreseen. He decides that what happened to him he has to put aside. No revenge on the orcs and how that happened is just something he has to swallow. Asking more of it will just bring it all back. He has done will to put it in his past with his wife's death.

So, he comes up with the most important question he can think of, "Where or what would it be best to going forward on what has been foreseen to us?"

The old prophet raises an eyebrow at Ashtar's question, mostly the her part. "What they have endured to survive."
To Couth she answers, "The village you passed is stricken with grief. Maybe your light can offer some relief."

Ashtar nods at Madam Eva. He was still uncertain what to make of her, but it seems she's provided what meagre offerings she had and Ashtar was a gracious guest if he was anything.

He waits for the others to finish.

Still overwhelmed by the crashing realization that the old woman had — or seemed to have — a closely sourced knowledge of her own family history, Briar could not listen as the cards were drawn and placed. She stared down at the arrangement with a gaze that pierced through the table itself, finding absolutely nothing as her brain raced through a tangle of sudden, spasmodic somersaults. The audio of the world around swam in and out like the tide, crashing down on the small fairy with all the weight of the moon’s force.

She watched blindly as the cards laid out turned to reveal their mysteries, fingers curled and pressed intently against her sternum as if gripping an invisible pendant. Barely audible, she whispers "Mama…" before realizing where she stands. The image of the Darklord pulls her to the present when his emotionless yet terrible visage gazes up from the freshly flipped fortune-paper.

Briar looks to her companions with a mingled fear, confusion, and shame in her large emerald eyes. Only then does she begin to pour over the full array of cards before them, attempting to recall what the world beyond her mind had experienced over the past few minutes. She steels herself with a steady breath and looks to the elder woman. "You said Mama could help. I want to help." She stares again at the cards and shivers. "How do you befriend a werewolf?"

Alyria waited as patiently as she could to ask her question. She was near praying that someone asked about the quest they were on. A part of her wanted to be responsible and inquire about their next steps, but that large part of herself that ran head first into everything without thinking first wanted to use the opportunity selfishly. At Madam Eva's response to Ashtar's question, she couldn't help the eyebrow that raised at the woman's emphasis on a certain word. It had her wondering things and led to mental images that Alyria would be amused to see.

She silently praised Couth for asking the question she wanted someone else to focus on as it allowed her to then question which selfish route to take. A tiny part of the back of her mind, the part that sang of regret and guilt, wanted to ask about him, but the information Madam Eva had thrown out was too important to her own personal mission. Alyria couldn't bring herself to not focus on the work her grandfather left unfinished. As she opened her mouth, she heard Briar speak. Looking over, she saw the distress on the fairy's face and offered a gentle hand across her back in comfort.

Waiting patiently once more, Alyria let Briar's question be answered before asking, "Where can I find the order? I must find them!"

Nodding to the Fairy, "They are the same as you and me. You attract more Ravens with treats then with Tricks.
To Alyria "What you seek slumbers west at the base of the mountain. When the Moon's River cross you are close.
She sighs "I must ask you to leave. I grow tired and weak. Please call Stanimir in." She closes her eyes and begins slowly breathing.

As you open the tent to exit you notice that it is night time outside and rush of hunger and exhaustion flows over you.

A bonfire is roaring and the traveler's are sitting around it. They are passing around bottles of wine and you smell a pot of stew simmering.

Ashtar stands and nods politely at Madam Eva, exiting the tent and calling Stanimir over. He walks over to the bonfire, and waits to discuss the situation with the others. "We could always refuse the call and return home." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "Seems there is danger abound, but I am... gravitated towards this place. Something pulls me here, calls to me. Whether the woman's words were false or true, I find that I must see this to its end, though perhaps for selfish reasons."

He looks at the others to hear their thoughts.

Head bowed and hands still clutching an invisible amulet at her breastbone, Briar slinks away from the group a ways and plants herself at the base of a tree. The leaves across her shoulders are still and subdued, barely pulsing as her mind reels and processes the knowledge imparted from Madam Eva.

The fairy looks up upon hearing Ashtar share his thoughts. A lightless smile forms upon her lips though it does not quite reach her pensive eyes. In an attempt to resume some variation of her accustomed boisterous and gleeful nature, she responds in a tremulous singsong tone, "We can be heroes."

Large Couth will indulge on more stew and wine campfire side. He will chat but really says nothing about their time with the Madam Eva or their reason for even being here. If more recent female makes an appearance, then Couth time will get redirected.

To the others, 'I foresee and fathom only moving forward. Tomorrow's morning glory. We travel to the nearby village. Best a good night's rest."

Stanimir gets out of his chair when you call and heads into the tent right away, closing the flaps behind him.
An hour or so passes with the party eating steak (or goodberries) and drinking wine.
Stanimir exits the tent and finds the party. He motions to a tent that is set up for the group of you to sleep in tonight.

Couth. The lovely lady you spent last night with is currently preoccupied with one of the travelers. They are very attached. Ready

History

GeneCortess February 6, 2024 4:58 am

Kilikina February 6, 2024 10:20 am

GeneCortess February 6, 2024 5:20 pm

GeneCortess February 6, 2024 7:44 pm

GeneCortess February 6, 2024 7:44 pm

grifter730 February 6, 2024 8:08 pm

Redamancy February 6, 2024 8:36 pm

Smiley February 6, 2024 8:51 pm

Khulod February 6, 2024 10:12 pm

Voting thang is strange. Seems tapping more than once has lesser side effects.

Oh. Redamancy. I auto used the normal stated average and not max or rolled. I could be wrong.

Eye of the Storm was quiet since the meeting with Madam Eva. He had heard a great deal that he did not like the sound of. He could see the words had snared his companions or, more aptly put, put the noose around their necks. The poor fools. He could see they wanted to stay. He sat down in the dark, his yellow eyes picking them out easily in the dark. Darkcloud, his faithful companion, had laid her head on his lap, sensing his unease. His mind darkened, Eye of the Storm stroked her fur with absent thought..