Its all in the Cards.

Ireena awkwardly stares at Briar "You are a Fairy or a pixie? I have ready stories about your kind but have never seen one..." She stops staring "Sorry...My father passed 5 days ago. He just collapsed and never woke up. His body couldn't handle it anymore." She shakes her head

"5 days?" Says Crow "That is far too long. Why has Father Donavich delayed the burial? That does not at all seem reasonable."

"Perhaps we should go ask him," Jorah replies, stifling a yawn. "During the day, though. Night is too dangerous."

"I certainly plan to, but I would like to hear more first." Turning to Ireena "Anything you can tell us about Father Donavich coul help"

"Fairy!" Briar clarifies brightly. "You can’t always trust a sprite. But you can’t always trust a fairy either… But you can trust me!" Her train of thought leads her into a moment of introspection as she ponders the nature of fey creatures and their wild whims.

Returning to the present, Briar follows the thread of piecing together a timeline and asks, "When did Doru disappear? Does anyone know where he might have gone?"

"It has almost been a year since anyone has seen Duro and Father Donavich has been unnervingly silent with worry since then. He stays in the chapel, muttering prayers."

"We will talk to him in a while. Perhaps he himself has an idea where his son went," Jorah speculates. "Indeed... perhaps the problem is that he knows..."

The lady sits up on the sofa "I am sorry. In all of this I forgot my manors." She stands and offers a hand. "I am Ireena Kolyana and you have already met my Brother Ismark. Welcome to the Village of Barovia in the Lands of Barovia.

Jerinvar had followed in silence, not so much because he was a loner and didn't like the companionship of others, but rather because he was both quite introspective yet easily distracted. He would begin one thought and in short order find himself contemplating another. He'd paid attention enough to understand that the priest, father Donavich had been an active and productive member of the community prior to the disappearance of his son, Doru...after which he withdrew into the church and has obsessed over endless prayer, whether it be for finding his son or forgiveness for some, as of yet, unknown action of his own that contributed to, or resulted in, that disappearance.

It would seem that finding the son would be the quickest path to returning father Donavich back to being useful in any meaningful way. He would voice those thoughts when the time seemed right...and this did not feel like the right time to him.

"Thank you both for your hospitality. I promise we will do what can with Father Donavich" With that Dr. Crow heads out, "While there is still light" he says with a smile.

Not quite ready to leave, Alyria stays for a moment longer. Making a gesture over her chest, akin to a cross, she uses her divine senses. She remembers the letter they’d found and she’s surprised to see the girl standing here. With a theory about why the girl is suddenly desired, she decides to test it out while making pleasantries. "We appreciate your hospitality and are more than willing to assist you both escape the town once your affairs are in order."

Alyria opens up to her divine instincts. She feels around for anything non human in the mansion. She feels.... senses nothing out of the ordinary.

Jorah will yawn and stand up, following after Crow. "I was hoping for more light before we headed out, but it isn't safe to go alone."

Before the party exits, the fairy presents one last question to the siblings. "So ... have there been no burials in a year now? That seems ... like a lot of Father Donavich not doing his job ... Wouldn't that make the undead problem like, way worse? Because he isn't doing the rites to put their spirits at rest?" After the experience in the mansion, the rogue has a new interest in the way spirits linger and the ways in which the undead are able to rise upon living lands.

Atop a slight rise, against the roots of the pillar stone that supports a castle high above 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, and flickering light shines through holes in the shingled roof. The rafters strain feebly against their load.
The heavy wooden doors of the church are covered with claw marks and scarred by fire.

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