Chapter 1: Into the Mists

The man smiles. It is perfectly alright, I give freely to all I meet, but as for your questions, I have no answers myself. The Barovians are quite strange in their reclusiveness and the Burgomaster only hired me to carry the letter because I was leaving anyway. The man says. As for the land, there is not much to tell. Wolf-infested forests and cold, dreary weather are what compose it. We go because the locals are in deathly need of light and color. This and the Burgomaster allows us to put a more permanent residence on his land for my people.

Very wealthy. He is much like a Baron in the way he leads the town. The evil, though, I haven't seen. Perhaps it is the wolves that have become far more vicious agianst the Barovians that has him concerned of evil. Regardless,
we can do more than point your way. You may accompany us on our way back, if you wish. He opens his arms in a welcoming gesture.

There's no indication that the man is trying to deceive you but he does seem to have a sly intelligence in the way he carries himself. He seems as well educated and streetwise as he is courteous.

Excellent to hear! He exclaims. We leave momentarily

While the rest of the tents and food are packed up, you learn that the man's name is Arrigal and he is Vistani. He explains the route they are to take and how it is relatively straightforward, being exactly how he described earlier.

What follows is a dreary but peaceful ride. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.

The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence. Welcome to Barovia, companions. Arrigal says. The gates operate by themselves, allowing for the wagons to pass.and for the gate close behind them.

Towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave, yet exude the feeling of an unvoiced scream. The trees soon open to a plain with a river to your left. This river flows as clear as a blue winter sky through the valley.

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 mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance. This is where we stop. He says, his wagons stopped just outside the town Come visit us at our encampment some hours away. He points beyond the village Turn north at the crossroads if you wish to find us. Perhaps we could read your fortune then.

You are dropped off where the road turns from dirt to cobblestone as the Vistani wagons carry on through the village at brisk pace.

You all hear the sound of a child weeping emminating from down the street. Wil and Ryn notice the figure responsible. A young boy and an older girl are standing against a fence. The boy is shedding bitter tears and holding close a stuffed doll. You also notice rats strutting around proudly in the absence of people in the street. There is a light on in the building of on the corner of an intersection far up the street.

The girl looks about 11 and the boy about 6. The girl is shushing the boy and attempting to stop his crying to no avail. They haven't spotted any of the characters.