Ravenloft game thread

I raise one eyebrow upon hearing "Falf" but before I can respond I catch the copper cube Victor tossed. Inspecting it with admiration I reply, "I have interest in most trades, though not for any talent of my own." I return the copper cube on my outstretched palm. "My family owns some land far from this place. Perhaps when the business at hand is finished, we can discuss matters of trade."
Father may approve greatly, I think to myself.

"Indeed, we shall." Victor takes back the fire starter and places it back in his pack.

"Torment!", he announces loudly as he turns back to the tiefling. "I used to know a tiefling named Torment. Troubled girl really, owned her own ship at one point. Carried around a spear with the impaled heads of her foes at another point. Did you know her by chance?"

"Racist!", the copper crows head caws out once more. Victor only looks at it with contempt.

"They're all cattle." I mumble to myself, taking in the state of the buildings and thinking about what I know of the plight I've been thrust into...

'Torment' the word catches my ear, snaps me out of my drifting thoughts. Victor's description and casual tone start my blood boiling. In a flash, there is a dagger in my hand and I'm behind Victor. One hand is gripping his shoulder too firmly, and the other pressing the dagger subtly into his side. "Watch who you speak of with casual disrespect. You never know whose First Mate will be listening."

After a moment too long I release my grip and covertly slip the dagger back into the sheath at my hip. It had been months since Torment's Revenge was captured, and while I may have betrayed her, she was still my captain and my mentor.

"Ah, so you're the first mate? Small world", Victor says casually. "I should have known. You both have the same sense of...", he rubs his shoulder a bit, "...dramatic flair. You should know, she had told me once that she had forgiven you. I never really understood her meaning, but she did say it just before she crushed a man's head under her boot, so I would take that with a grain of salt."

Victor strolls along again, rubbing his shoulder a bit more and checking to see if the dagger left a mark on his cloak.

Justice's eyes glint with remembrance. But she doesn't say anything, revealing anything would be too hard, too long. Instead Justice turns toward Falfaelor. The way he greeted her was both unusual and comforting. Justice stumbles on her words as she struggles to speak Common. About right now she would give anything to have someone who understood her.
Justice smiles at Faeofaelor and acknowledges him, trying to say anything. "Th-anks"

I stare at the self proclaimed First Mate with apprehension. She seems to be a volatile one. Composing myself to show respect but not offering my hand, I greet her at last. "Well met. I'm Faelor. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I smile and shake the man's hand, no evidence of the outburst remains in either my body language or expression. As if the ghost of, whatever it was, had passed "Zinnarath."

Ireena is bewildered by the intense display of character of these new arrivals. She knows she can trust them, but has never met a person with horns and coloured skin, or such a very small person. They seem to have coincidental connections in the big, wide world. She tries not to stare, hoping for the sensation of dreaming to pass.

The fantastical is not new to her, however. She leads you to meet Madame Eva, and you set off west, veering south, spotting a vague black monstrosity a mile above you to your right. You can make out a sheer cliff and tall towers, but it seems so far away, but no less imposing.

You walk over a stone bridge, hearing the rushing of the river Ivlis underneath. Your journey is nearly a mile. Suddenly, the road splits into the forbidding Svalich woods. The northern fork slants up slightly to the north while the southern fork slants slightly downward. Dense fog obscures your vision. A cold autumn wind whistles down the northern lane, cutting icily through your clothing. Dead brown leaves rush about. There is no sound other than the wind and leaves.

She leads you up the northern path, to the 'Tser Pool Encampment'. The canopy of mist and branches overhead suddenly gives way to black clouds boiling far above. There is a clearing here. Dry, brittle grass rustles in the biting wind. On the far side of the clearing are several colorful wagons parked on the banks of a pool. The mournful strains of an accordion mix meekly with the moaning of the wind. Several brightly clad figures surround a large, roaring fire. The road seems to pass close by this camp. There are 10 gypsies standing and sitting around the fire.

Countless times during her travels after fleeing the Carnly estate Grizel has relied on the kindness of simple folk. She's found that people are quick to look beyond the armor, the warhorse and weapons, see the simple country girl underneath, and recognize her as one of their own. She has vowed to protect the powerless but many, many times folks have done her a good turn of their own accord long before she'd had the chance to do anything for them, really. She's found that these supposedly weak folks wield a different sort of power. An undeniable strength in just good simple people looking out for each other. Grizel hopes it's this kind of folk Ireena has led them to now. She dismounts, leaving Alastor to graze on what meager grass the clearing has to offer. She approaches the gypsies with a relaxed smile. "G'day to ye!"

---

OOC:

Folk Hero Feature : Rustic Hospitality
"Since you come from the ranks of the common folk, you fit in among them with ease. You can find a place to hide, rest, or recuperate among other commoners, unless you have shown yourself to be a danger to them. They will shield you from the law or anyone else searching for you, though they will not risk their lives for you."

Katerina follows. She has dealt with these travelers in times past. Often really, enough that she has learned the language of the Vistani so that she could question them when the need arose. She keeps this to herself though for the time being. She knows this lot is big on the theatrics. A well placed word may help them find what they are looking for. Instead, for now, she lets Grizel do the talking while she looks around for signs of this Madame.

Victor would choose to stand around the fire and speak in common with these folks. Particular interest is if they sell or trade in any unusual components or materials, always looking for new crafting material.

"Excuse me my fine fellows and fellowesses, a roaming bad such as yourself must known of many unique and prized objects, materials, or components. Might I talk of barter with you?", the gnome joyfully says. He will pull out the fire starter he has crafted and see what they think of the craftsmanship. Whether they think it good or not he will launch into a lengthy explanation of how it was made.

During the explanation he hears the girl say something about the Madame, but simply tells Grizel that he will get the gist from them later.

I follow Grizel and Kat as they are led by the small child to the lonely tent. As we walk I take in the surroundings. Little tents, wagons, nick knacks and things hanging as decoration, brightly coloured clothing. These people are meant to move. My skin crawls with unease as I catch a glance from one of them. Their intent is not clear. They are people of strange motivation, and their trust is their own to keep.

Katerina looks to the gnome. If he stays there by himself, he will only have himself to blame. Or perhaps he'll blame his poor dealings on the bird. It is not Katerina's place to say anything to these strangers. She feels more akin to Grizel and Falfaelor having faced down the vampyr and together looked into his dead eyes. She no longer trusts that her father, if he ever came to these strange lands in the first place, is alive. Even if he is dead though, the order of the Lamplighters would not let these crimes go unpunished. She remains aloof but keeps in step with the paladin and half-elf.

She notices the half-orc following and makes a note in her head that she is uneasy. The Vistani are certainly a strange lot if you are unwise to their ruses. She will take all this Madame Eva has to say with a grain of salt. Her father taught to look out for what they call in their circles lectură de gheață or "readings from ice", a common practice among the "psychics" and "seers" of the nomads.

Remembering my parent's teachings of diplomacy and behavior in strange land, I do my best to appear friendly and unthreatening. I follow along quietly, taking in the sights.

Victor will do his best to make idle talk, it seems this group may have no materials for his trade of interest to him, but he will hand the fire starter over to the gypsy and also produce another Tinker creation he has crafted. A small music box. As the box opens there is nothing inside, but a song starts to come from the box. A rather sweet, and haunting melody. It sounds both joyous and mournful at once. "This melody was one hummed often by an old friend, I never knew the origin, but I have never forgotten it. I have never forgotten him." He hands this over for the gypsy to inspect as well. He wipes away a small tear that almost escaped his eye.

After a moment, seeing the rest have dispersed the gnome turns to the remaining gypsy, "Thank you for indulging this old aritche, keep these as gifts, and may your bounty here be ever plentiful." He stands and starts to make his way to the tent the others were led to, talk of his craft has suddenly left his interests. He only thinks of the haunting melody as he goes.

[ OOC: Victor doesn't know the meaning of the word aritche, but he tries to use it as best as he can given the context of it's use last time. ]

The gypsy slams victor on the back playfully and tips his feathered hat. He uses the tool to light a pipe and takes a few light puffs before handing it to you as you leave.

He throws the music box into the air before catching it skillfully, and the music takes a creepy turn in it's path through the air. The gypsies beside him lean in to inspect it.

"Safe travels, kind aritche. The fates have blessed you and good fortune surely awaits."

Members of the group cackle heartily with enjoyment.

The others have entered the tent.

Within, all is dimly illuminated in pools of red light. A small, low table stands across from the doorway, 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. She speaks. Her voice crackles like dry weeds. Her tone soars and falls like the wind outside. "At last you have arrived!" Her sudden cackling laughter bursts like mad lightning from her withered lips.

Grizel peers int the crystal ball but sees nothing. She has never been near a gypsy before. She had seen one of their caravans from afar when she was a child, before the Carnlys had them chased them off their land. She addresses Eva respectfuly, "Ye've been expectin' us, Madam? Then ye know why we've come? Can ye help us?"

Justice says nothing as she stands besides Grizel. She has seen Gypsies many times before. She knew that many fortunetellers were in the service of the demons themselves. She should tread carefully.
Justice looks between Grizel and the Gypsie. She begins to say something, but stops. It wasn't worth the time.