Chapter 1: Into the Mists

To a party of seasoned adventurers such as yourselves, what you see is but another dull tavern in another dull town in some nameless province. It is but another span of time between the challenges of true adventuring.

Outside the tavern, a fog lies over the town this evening. The damp, cobbled pavement glistens as the lights of street lanterns dance across the slick stones. The fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside .

Yet inside these tavern walls the food is hearty, and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth, and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk.

Suddenly, the tavern door swings open, and a hush falls over the room. Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides through the doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows.

Without hesitation, he walks up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms. In an accented voice he says, "I have been sent to you. to deliver this message. If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my master's aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich Woods at night!"

He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. "Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich Woods. There you will find my master in Barovia."

Amid the silent stares of the patronage, the gypsy strides to the bar and says to the wary barkeep, "Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched." He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he leaves.

The babble of tavern voices resumes, although some what subdued. The letter is lying before you. The seal is in the shape of a crest you don't recognize.

Ryn watched the strange man walk out of the tavern and he took another drink from his wine. Grabbing the letter from Greymond, he examined the letter and seal. "Well that was a short introduction, any ideas who is hiring us or what we are doing? It says a great evil but that could be almost anything. Baroth did you get any read on the man?" Ryn turned and handed the letter over to one of his other companions while he wracked his brain trying to recognize the crest or any information about the town of Barovia.

Ryn recognizes the name Barovia as a town spoken of in books, citing it as a battlesite and fishing town, but fails to recall any information on the crest or anybody by the name Indirovich. The town is not marked on your map.

Baroth observes that the man had a bouncy, rhythmic gait, articulate, jovial voice, and bright-colored clothing characteristic of a minstrel as he strutted about the stone floor of the Spinning Wheel Tavern, a highly unusual sight. Everyone seemed to pay him attention from the moment he walked in the door to the moment he left.

The bartender lifts the bag of money off the counter and begins sending wenches around to fill glasses as per the man's request.

I've heard the Vistani talk about Barovia but nothing more. Those gypsies know more than they should, I tell you.

"Where can I find these Vistani?"

Oh, I assumed you knew them as one just delivered your mail. They travel around, mostly near the Svalich woods, and trade with us occasionally. I didn't think they were in town but the fellow that just left proved otherwise.

And so it was. You spent a night in the inn and went out in search of the gypsies at first light. Sure enough, there was a conspicuously colorful wagon with people buzzing all around it, packing tents and other supplies into the it. They seem mostly finished. Among them, you see the man who delivered your letter.

As you blend into the crowd, nobody seems to pay attention to your approach.