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thetalesofno-one · 4 months

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Curse of Strahd, Act I: Pt. 2, Ch. IV -Where The Dead Sleep-

D&D Campaign Retelling Part 2/6 Chapter 4/5 ~7.2k words Content Warnings: Curse of Strahd typical content, Read at own risk

Summary At the burgomaster's mansion our unfortunate souls trapped within Barovia's mists meet Ireena Kolyana, a blessing that will soon join them on their journey for answers. But Ismark fails to tell his sister of her imminent departure and as they argue, another member of the family is met within a coffin. Read Previous Chapters also available on AO3

Ireena steps back from the door with one final look out past them, her eyes seeking other trouble in the waxing night and Emet finds himself glancing as well. Beside him, Roshan stares unblinking at the young woman with red hair. The old man’s smile falters, and even as Ismark ushers the group of strangers into their home, Roshan holds the woman in his eyes like a man seeing the ghost of someone lost within a stranger. The most precious of stolen wonders. Even when he is shuffled in by Evie and Evrrot nudging him ahead, Roshan seems unaware of all else around him. Only her.

Ireena stands off to the side with arms gently wrapped about herself. She absently rubs the soft wool of the well worn scarlet scarf wrapped around her neck like a gentle serpent. Her fingers worrying at the fabric, settling it this way and that as though never satisfied where it rests. Ireena offers each new guest a brief polite smile and a nod, her eyes flicking to Ismark between each expectantly, awaiting the answers to questions Emet can tell she expects her brother to offer sooner rather than later. Namely, who are these people?

Ismark catches her look only after the last guest enters and he swings the door shut.

“Oh, ah, this is my sister Ireena Kolyana. And Ireena, these are—”

Ismark stutters to a halt, a bit of flush spreading across his face.

“Forgive me, in all our conversation I never asked your names,” he smiles sheepishly.

Roshan snaps out of his strange trance, but his sad eyes do not loosen their hold on Ireena, “I am Roshan. It is of great pleasure to meet you, Ireena.”

Her polite and practiced smile is a little hesitant under his intense stare, but she offers it all the same as she likely has been taught to do so to every guest that has been welcomed within these halls. And once rich halls they have been.

Emet studies the foyer as the others offer their names—first names only, of course—and polite hellos. The manor holds the decadent finery of a middle tier barony, but the metal is tarnished, the wood scuffed and wanting for polish, the tapestry faded and thread worn, the furniture in need of a seamstress’ fine touch. The illusion of grandeur long since having fallen, a lord who still receives invitation to galas, but only out of pity for who they once were. A family clinging to the decadence of a memory that now eludes them. Like the Blood on the Vine tavern, the manor holds the wear of a place lived in, not a callus and sterile palace of perfection that is more a museum to wealth than a home. Wealth lost to time and decay.

Ireena’s burnt honey eyes catch Emet’s gaze wandering about her home with a sense of anticipation and he realizes he is all that is left in these introductions.

“Emet, the pleasure of your company is mine.”

He dips his head in a half bow, hair spilling past his shoulders and sharp elven ears. Her eyes linger on them and follow him back up to full height with curiosity written across her expression, but she holds herself back before she can voice whatever question holds her captive.

Ismark quickly shuffles to a set of closed double doors with little scratch marks near their base as if a cat or small dog once pawed for entry in its past. There’s a hurriedness to him as though trying to make up for his previous lapse in introductions.

“Come, we can sit and—”

Ireena’s eyes widen even before the doors open, her hand flashing out in silent command. But it is too late. The doors swing inward to reveal a dark sitting room with a fireplace long gone cold and still, every curtain drawn tight as the grave. Fitting, as an open coffin sits atop the low coffee table.

Evrrot grabs Roshan’ shoulder in the split second it takes for Ireena to reach the doors the charmer is already pointing at the casket, its upper half hinged open with the silhouette of a body just beyond the bar of light stretching across the floors from the open doors. He gives the holy man a look as if to say, That’s a body. That’s a fucking body right there. You’re seeing this right?

Ireena grabs the doors from her brother’s hands and slams them shut behind her back. She leans against them protectively, face flushed half as bright as her hair. Ismark gives his sister an apologetic look and she burns him with a silent glare, torn between embarrassment and frustration. He’d clearly known, but if the darkened circled under his eyes speak of anything, it is a message of forgetfulness born of endless restlessness. Not carelessness.

“Sorry,” Ireena breathes hastily, “Our father…we haven’t had a moment to lay him to rest. We’ve been preoccupied.”

She touches her neck as she says the last word, adjusting the scarlet scarf once more with a gentle tug higher. Her gaze softens toward Ismark, all forgiven in an instant. He kisses the top of her head.

“All is well.” Emet can almost feel the ache in Roshan’s voice as the holy man watches the two siblings a moment longer. Something heavy and dark sits behind his eyes before they shutter shut in an instant, closing as sharply as the doors and the warm smile returns, “Do you have any powdered silver?”

“Powdered silver?” Ireena repeats.

“If you do not mind. I can perform a funeral rite so your father may rest undisturbed.”

“Undis—ah. I’m afraid we have nothing so fine, though I am grateful for the offer. Truly.” She straightens, tapping the door behind her lightly as though afraid they will open of their own accord,” But you are our guests. Please, is there anything I might get you? Drink or food perhaps. Our supplies are limited I’m afraid, but we have wine and I can make a stew for dinner if you are staying?”

“I wouldn’t say no to some food,” Evrrot pipes up, his belly still full—Emet would hope—with his very recent late lunch.

All but Ireena give him a questioning glance.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he shrugs. An alluring smiles curls over his devilish fangs,”And anything crafted by your lovely hands would be most welcome.”

Evie looks like she wants to punch him. Emet wouldn’t mind the distraction.

“Of course, I’ll start to prepare something.”

Ismark stops his sister with a light touch before she can go, a troubled expression having taken him over before the offering for food and having deafened him to Evrrot’s comment. His voice holds a weight in his throat as though he does not wish to speak what he must say, but he steels himself.

“There is something we must discuss first, Ireena. This group will accompany you to Vallaki in the morning. They have already agreed to escort you on their way to their own business. You will be safer there—”

A tight smile cuts across Ireena’s soft features, silencing her brother.

“Would you all excuse me and my brother?” Ireena asks sweetly, though her tone poorly hides the sharp edge within it. She holds Ismark beneath her stern gaze. “There’s something we need to discuss. Privately.”

Ismark’s shoulders fall and Ireena takes his hand, dragging him across the foyer to a set of doors opposite the coffin filled sitting room. The door closes behind them with a sharp snap.

It takes all of five seconds for Evrrot’s tenuous hold on self control to completely disintegrate without supervision. His seductive charming smile drops like a curtain over a stage and he opens the sitting room doors, strolling right up to the corpse filled coffin as though it is a piece of art to be admired. Evie and Roshan share a you first look before they both follow. Emet shakes his head and remains in the foyer. He crosses his arms and squeezes the muscle, releasing his tension with a breath. This isn’t their home. And if Ireena wanted her father on full display, she wouldn’t have shut the doors.

Emet’s never understood nosiness. The people who pry into every place they do not belong, riffling through the cabinets of other’s lives and homes seeking knowledge they themselves would hide. Everyone has their secrets. Some are not meant to be plucked from the shelf and opened like a book upon a desk. Some should stay shelved forever.

His back to the coffin room, Emet listens to the hushed conversation behind him while doing his best to ignore the muffled heated words ahead.

“See that?” Evrrot’s quiet voice carries across the wooden floors. “Wolf claws likely. Not zombie. The cuts are too sharp and deep for any sort of humanoid fingers. Our nails don’t get that sharp.”

“Speak for yourself,” Evie retorts, flashing he newly sharpened talons.

Emet shivers. Phantom hands trail across his body, their cold fingers tracing over every scar with a promise to open them again. The largest of his scars, the deep wound marring his back and piercing through to its twin upon his chest aches deeply.

“The coffin’s poorly made,” Evie says under her breath. She trails one of her sharpened nails along the rough planks and Emet grips his arms tightly, feeling its ghost trail along his bones. Poorly hammered nails and glue keep the coffin together without skill, but there is no lack of care. “Guess there’s no proper undertakers in this place.”

“Or they have been taken under themselves,” Roshan says grimly.

Evrrot sweeps out of the room on silent feet toward the closed door where Ireena and Ismark argue in hushed tones, his interest in the dead lost. Emet half wishes he grabbed the tiefling as he passed, but if the charmer desires the ire of his hosts, it will be all too deserving a fate. With one tapered red ear carefully set against the door, Evrrot closes his eyes and listens. To Emet, the words are muffled and hushed, spoken by people who do not wish to be heard, but having a conversation filled with emotion that demands volume.

He can make out a few sentences against his better judgement, but there is nowhere else to go. Ireena yells she is no coward, that she will not abandon friend and neighbor. Ismark explaining he does not think her one and that he is not asking her to abandon anyone. He says their people in Vallaki need a leader. They need her.

There is such silence afterward Emet wonders if all has been spoken. But Ismark voice returns now with a tremor in his voice. It is Ireena’s choice in the end, but he cannot bear to loose her too. Ireena’s fire falls to tears and she tells him she will go. Even if only for him. But she has one condition. Whatever is spoken next is so quiet Emet would guess even the meddlesome tiefling fails to hear it.

Were he a better man, Emet would have dragged Evrrot away from the door by the horns or at least made some noise loud enough for their hosts to realize they have an audience. Were he a better anything, maybe he wouldn’t have listened himself. But Emet supposes he stopped being a good man months ago.

The phantom hands tracing his scars briefly wrap around his throat and fade away.

Evrrot slips from the door deftly, barely a sound as he sidesteps to a nearby decorative table topped with various trinkets and examines them with feigned interest just as the doors softly click open.

Ireena and Ismark walk out together, their faces blotchy and stained with the trails of recent tears. Emet casts his eyes to the side and allows them a moment to wipe away the stray rivers of their eyes and sniffle back the last of what remains. Those who grieve do not need prying eyes upon them.

When Ismark finally addresses him, Emet meets the man’s eyes without letting his gaze wander like a pointed finger to their reddened eyes and noses. They both offer him a faint nod in thanks.

“You look strong, if you don’t mind me saying.” Ireena clears the strain from her throat, “Would you be willing to help bear our father to the church in the morning so we might finally give him rest?”

“Of course. It would be no trouble.”

“I can as well.” Evie steps from the open coffin room, “I’m stronger than I look, especially when it comes to coffins.”

An interesting choice of words.

Ireena eyes her as Evie drifts out of the room she closed off to them—Roshan still within and praying over the coffin. There’s almost relief and resignation in that look. Perhaps there is peace when the skeleton no longer must be hidden in the closet. She gives Evie a nod and Emet realizes he never really noticed how short Evie is until this moment. Even with her platform boots and swept up hair, she still stands beneath Ireena’s height. Emet wonders how well carrying a coffin will go between the two of them.

“Ismark and I talked,” Ireena continues. “I’ll come with you to Vallaki. It may be best after all.”

Emet thought he’d hear resignation in her tone, perhaps resentment or the continued indignation she’d displayed at plans having been made about her life without her consent. But whatever hushed words were spoken behind those closed doors soothed her anger and warmed her to the idea—even if only faintly. The young woman turns to her brother and takes him in as if trying to remember every last detail should it be the last. Her eyes start to glisten once more.

Were he a kinder man, Emet would never ask now the question they all politely avoid. But if they are to stay here this night and if Ireena is to join them further, it is an answer they must know.

“There is something we should know.”

Ireena wipes at her eyes and Ismark sniffles.

“Might I ask why your…” Emet thinks a moment for a gentler word,” late night visitor is so fascinated with you, Ireena?”

Ireena swallows the lump in her throat and adjusts her scarf once more. He catches a glimpse of the angry punctures along her neck this time, swollen and red. Two deep fissures the width of a human mouth’s canines scarring her perfectly smooth skin, the faint bruising along the rest of her neck where the other teeth once left their indentation. She hides it beneath the soft scarlet cloth as vibrant as the blood that must have spilled down her throat.

Ismark rubs his sister’s shoulder and from the corner of his vision, Evie’s glare threatens Emet with physical violence. But Emet continues without accusation or blame in his questioning, trying to be as careful as one can with such a delicate subject.

“I only ask to assess the dangers we may face in your company. It is better to know what we are dealing with before it is too late to ask.”

Ireena nods to herself, fingers pressed tightly into the folds of crimson cloth. “I wish I knew…but I don’t.”

There is such vulnerability to those words.

Within her hands she holds a broken fragment of herself, one violently shattered like porcelain in the careless hands of another. If she held up what was broken it would fit in the space left behind, but it will never look the same. There will always be the lines of fracture. Evidence of harm making sure she can never go back to how she was before. Everything poured within will spill out and remind her again that she will never be whole.

The scar along Emet’s chest aches and Ireena’s eyes find the floor.

“Perhaps they’re like mosquitoes,” Evie smiles for the first time, her dark tinted lips soft and gentle, filled with such radiating warmth. And it is such a genuine, disarming thing, held out only for Ireena. “Mosquitoes have an attraction to red hair.”

Ireena chuckles despite herself, gratitude in her eyes.

Evie’s face reddens a little.

“So what about dinner?” Evrrot asks, leaning against the decorative table. Perhaps it is his own way of diffusing the situation—or perhaps he is simply an ass.

“You just ate!” Evie snaps.

Ireena’s smile brights and throws her head back in laughter, wiping away tears of another kind.

Ismark grabs a thick winter coat from a hook beside the front door and bow leaning in the corner, “It is no worry. I will hunt us something while I am out organizing the search for Gertruda.”

The ache still radiates hollow in Emet’s chest. He is grateful Evie undid the pain in Ireena. “Please don’t go out of your way for us.” Emet says, “Save your supplies.”

Ismark waves him off and slings the bow over his shoulder, kissing Ireena on the cheek in farewell. She tells him to be back soon and he slips out into the bitter cold of the setting day with promises of return. Ireena locks the doors behind him, several bolts and locks and bars sliding into place.

Roshan looks up from his prayers over the coffin, “How about salt. Do you have salt?”

Emet wonders if the old man is even aware of the past few minutes.

Ireena is just as confused by the sudden change in direction, “We have some, yes—”

“Good, good. I can perform a different rite for your father to help preserve his body. One that does not require the silver.”

It does not take Ireena long to procure a small pouch of salt from the kitchens, the leather satchel barely larger than her closed fist. Emet hopes that isn’t all they possess. His gut sinks at the thought of eating so dearly into their meager supplies.

Roshan bows as he takes the salt and sets himself up around the open coffin. Ireena tosses a few pieces of wood—the few left—into the fireplace and lights it, giving the holy man some light to work by. They gather around the coffin.

Emet glimpses the corpse for the first time, taking in the squared off jaw, the sharp cut corners of his face. The resemblance to Ismark is strong, yet he sees none within Ireena. The body isn’t very old either. Though his flesh is a shade of pale on the dead can achieve, one would think the man were sleeping if he weren’t resting within coffin. The unnatural stillness of his chest, the lack of a gentle pulse in his neck, and the deep gouge of darkened blood peeking above the clean cut collar the only signs that he is not merely resting.

And there’s that emptiness. The kind Emet never could get use to.

A void where a person should be and though your eyes tell you they are right there, one gentle touch from opening their eyes, you can feel it. An absence and emptiness. The hollow left behind when a soul has fallen through a hole in the world you cannot see nor follow. The sensation of stepping to the edge of a cliff not knowing glass has been stretched across it. You cannot fall and yet you feel the emptiness beneath your feet calling and wonder if you are wrong.

Emet feels the pull as he looks into the coffin. The body a portal into a fate that awaits him and all on another day. The edge of some place he cannot yet see nor reach. Not yet. But it is there all the same.

“What caused these wounds?” Emet asks, trying to chase away the thoughts and memories of a field of bodies all calling for him to follow.

“Wolves,” Ireena replies softly. She watches Roshan’s hands work, his calloused fingers setting two copper coin atop the man’s sealed eyes. “They were everywhere during the siege. The risen dead, wolves, and whatever else joined the small army surrounding our home.”

“Regular wolves or dire?” Emet pauses realizing this must sound like an interrogation. “Apologies for the questions. I suppose I’m trying to understand the dangers of this land.”

“It’s okay, all of this must be so strange to you. They were regular, I think. Maybe a few larger. My father told me to keep away from the windows before they were boarded up with whatever we could sacrifice to block the entrances. So I suppose I didn’t get a good look.”

“Why him?” Emet presses gently, “If you don’t mind…”

“I don’t. Kolyan—my father—he is the,” Ireena stops herself, “was the burgomaster before Ismark. Ismark isn’t technically burgomaster yet, but he might as well be. The people have no one else to turn to. No one else to blame. He might as well hold the title.”

Though Emet can see the same questions in the others’ eyes, none open their mouths, seeing fit to let him continue swallowing the blade on their behalf. They busy themselves with interest in Roshan’s ritual, but their ears listen.

“And what made the hoard leave?” He asks.

Quiet settles over Ireena, heavy as a mourning veil. Only the hushed murmurs of Roshan’s prayers fill the expectant silence.

“They left after my father fell. For an entire week, they did not break these walls. This old house held out strong and the boards on the windows kept them at bay. Repairing the boards was dangerous work. The more intelligent of the creatures outside kept attacking them like they knew it was the weakest part of our defenses, others battered themselves against the stones mindlessly until their skulls were broken and their hands little more than stubs. A wolf managed to gnaw its way through one of the weakened planks, its jaws snapping and trying to break off more. My father tried repairing it before the wolf could get inside, but its jaws found him instead.”

Ireena’s voice grows quiet and soft, tender with guilt for all the possibilities she did not make reality. “I didn’t see what happened…I was upstairs. But Ismark told me the beast dragged him through and shredded him. It went quiet after that.”

She looks so small and vulnerable. A wounded creature with blood in her fur and horrors her eyes. Emet wants to mend her pain and take away its burden, but he doesn’t know how. His healing cannot close these wounds.

Emet glances back into the coffin at the man who was claimed to be shredded. Kolyan’s face is left almost entirely untouched. Strahd must have wanted it to be known without doubt who he’d killed for the deep gouge in the man’s neck is the only visible wound. But like Emet’s, the majority hide beneath his fine clothes. Unnatural wrinkles in the shirt and trousers where the cloth sinks too deeply. The wolf must have eaten well.

Emet pities the son forced to dress the ruined remains of his father. Those are memories that will haunt Ismark’s dreams forever.

“Strahd was likely making a point,” Emet says. “That if he could get to the most powerful of you, then he can get to anyone.”

Ireena quickly swipes away a tear, “That’s what Ismark thinks too.”

Evie inches closer to Ireena, a desire in her eyes to comfort the young woman but not knowing how. She resolves to stand close, perhaps willing her strength into the girl she wants to save.

Roshan continues his prayers without stop, the words spoken so low and quick Emet isn’t entirely sure he speaks the common tongue at all, but another. One unfamiliar to Emet’s ears. Copper coins glint atop forever shut eyes, the holy man’s weathered and scarred hands sprinkling the salt in patterns across Kolyan’s stilled chest. It seems this rite is no sooner to being done than the moon is to rising and the rest of them are of no aid in its completion.

Ireena reaches out a hand to her fallen father, but stops before she can touch his chest. Her palm hovering over the body with trembling fingers wanting so desperately to feel him, but frozen at the idea. Feeling what has been stolen will only break her again. Emet takes a heavy step away from the coffin, allowing his gauntlet to scrape against the rough wood as he turns. The sound pulls Ireena back and she blinks, withdrawing her hand in a clenched fist.

She straightens her navy doublet and takes a filling breath, releasing the hold of the dead on her mind, “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Ireena shepherds Emet and Evie out, leaving the holy man to do his righteous business. It’s only now Emet realizes that Evrrot is nowhere to be seen. The charmer likely already snooping where he is unwanted and unwelcome.

Opposite the front doors, a set of oak stairs covered in worn and faded blue runners vanish into the darkness of the second floor. Ireena plucks a candle from one of the sconces and lights the path ahead of them. The stairs creak gently beneath their weight, the tired old bones of the manor beginning to sag and bow beneath the weight of generations.

The upper floor bisects the manor, two halves of a hall stretching in opposite directions with their stairs at their center. The candlelight—brighter than the sun in these lands—reveals multiple doors lining each path and one tiefling standing in the shadows. Evrrot looks into one of the rooms down the right hall.

“I see you’ve found our guest rooms,” Ireena remarks lightly.

Evrrot straightens, but does not apologize. He doesn’t even appear embarrassed.

“I can take this one.”

A single bed fills the modest room, the decor having seen better days as most have in Barovia but it’s functional and better still than most inns. Evrrot roughly tosses his bag into a corner and hops onto the bed, boots and all. His long coat drapes over the fine linens likely staining them in the leather’s smokey scent. Lounging on the bed like he’s spent his life sleeping in it, Evrrot props his boots up on the footboard and folds his hands beneath his head, careful to avoid the sharp points of his horns. He spends a few seconds adjusting his tail until it lays just right.

“Close the door behind you, please.”

Ireena does so politely.

A second single-bed room shares its wall further down the same hall. Ireena opens the available room’s door with a brief showing and leaves it ajar as an option. To the left of the stairs, Ireena opens two more doors. The room closest the stairs holds two small beds, perhaps a bit more worn in the way a children’s room is always more worn than that of the parents. Maybe this is where Ismark and Ireena slept as children.

The farthest room down this left hall holds a modest sized bed with a small bath. This room is clearly lived in more so than the previous guest rooms. A pastel pink canopy falls across the pale bedding embroidered in floral patterns.

“This was my room.” Ireena picks at her scarf, “But I don’t like to stay here anymore.”

There is no delicate way to ask, but Emet tries, “Can he enter the entire building or just this room?”

“Everything, I’m afraid. If your concern is for your safety, perhaps each of you could share rooms tonight. It would probably be safer that way anyways…”

“My concern is less for myself, and more for you.”

Ireena blinks at that, watching Emet as he studies the entry points of the rooms and the proximity and distance between them with an expression caught between surprise and a touched warmth. Emet averts his eyes, finding himself undeserving of the change after the questions he asked so coldly.

“If you need anything, just call out. I sleep little and light being what I am,” he touches one of the points of his ears. “No matter the time, I’ll be there.”

The warmth in Ireena’s faint smile grows until even the candle dims beneath it and she quickly goes about fussing with the room in a flustered hurry. Ireena adjusts the already immaculate bedding and fluffs the pillows a bit more, finding something beneath them and quickly tossing it in one of her wardrobes. She keeps looking around the room as if expecting to find some embarrassing item or two to hide, but finally ushers Emet in to settle himself.

He sets his bag on the floor beside the door and Ireena debates between closing it or keeping it open. She settles on halfway.

“I’ll have dinner ready in a few hours if you’d like to rest for now.”

“Thank you, I’ll be down.”

Evie keeps to Ireena’s side as the two women leave him for the double-bed room next to his and with the door open, Emet can hear their conversation.

Evie clears her throat lightly, “If it’s alright with you, I’d rather not share a room with a strange man. I’ve only just met these people, literally this day as long ago as that might seem at this point. And…” she ventures carefully, “it didn’t sound like you were too eager to be in your own room. Would you be willing to share with me? If that’s better for you. If you’d rather not, like, bunk up that’s fine too.”

“No, no. It’s completely okay with me.” There’s a gladness in Ireena’s tone that Evie asked first. “This isn’t the best room, I hope that’s alright.”

“That’s fine with me. I mean, I’ll sleep on the floors these days, I really don’t care.”

“That won’t be needed,” a smile in her voice.

“I have a blanket and everything—”

“We have two beds!” Ireena laughs, “And I wouldn’t ask it. I’d much rather you be cozy, especially after what you’ve been through coming to this land. I’m sure you need a decent night’s sleep.”

Emet smiles as he hears Ireena settle Evie into the room.

“May your soul find the ever-rising dawn of Lathander’s light,” Roshan whispers.

His weathered and scarred fingers sprinkle the last of the salted patterns atop Kolyan’s quiet chest and he voices the final line of his prayers. Roshan’s words ignite something in the body’s core beneath the patterns of salt and he feels it bloom in his own chest. A pulse of heat radiating off hot desert sands and warming his bones. It is the presence Roshan has felt beside him ever since he found his faith at the end of his chains. A presence that has been cold ever since he found himself in these death touched lands. But now it returns.

His god has returned.

Roshan sighs deeply, clutching the warmth in his chest to hold it close forever though knowing that it will rise and set as the sun within him. It is always strong when he uses his gifts, a blazing heat that burns within his heart and hands, igniting his tongue in divine power. And it is a gentle warmth when his gifts are not needed. The affection of a lover that warms the soul and keeps it aglow.

The heat settles into the coziness of a cat curling up in a sunbeam and Roshan knows his faith has been proven. His god’s favor has found him even in lands where the sun is choked into submission by the dark and it’s warmth is little more than a shallow grave drowning beneath a river’s cold waters. But his god is here. He feels him now.

A dawn light falls over Kalyan’s body though there is no open windows nor sun to cast it. The rays descending from the darkened ceiling, breaking through from the heavens to answer his prayers. It fades all too soon and slips away like a vision in the night. But Roshan knows his prayers are answered. Kolyan’s remains are sanctified and Lathander has found his faithful servant once more.

“Thank you for finding me again, my lord.”

Roshan sits back on his knees and watches with reverence as the last of the ritual’s dawn light slowly fades. But the vision twists as his eyes catch on Kolyan’s wounds. Dark scars cutting deep into the man’s pale flesh vanish to further horrors beneath his clothes. The wounds weep in the light as though the congealed blood has thinned again and the heart has found its beat.

Roshan blinks and the vision is gone. The wounds dry and blood dark with coagulation once more. He rubs his eyes. The wounds remain old. It has been a long day…perhaps it was simply his eyes.

Roshan rises from his prayerful kneel.

“I am done—where has everyone gone?”

He is halfway out of the sitting room when Ireena quietly descends the stairs.

“Was it successful?” She asks, hope suspended in her voice.

“The body should be okay for about ten days.”

She breathes in relief, “Thank you. That is a weight off my shoulders. Ismark will be pleased as well.”

“Better than having you kill your own father if he rises again.”

That was probably not the best thing to say, he realizes too late.

“Yes, that—that’s for the best,” Ireena stammers. “I can show you to your room, if you’d like.”

The old stairs complain as much as Roshan’s feet as they climb. He takes his time, leaning on his shepherd’s crook with each step and Ireena slows to match his pace. His feet may truly ache, but that is more because he has spent the better part of two days walking. It has nothing to do with his age. He is only thirty-two after all. But Roshan has learned many things in his life, and one of those lessons is that if you act old, people will treat you like you are old. And they will never guess how quickly you can move. He will laugh the day he dashes around Ireena.

The young red haired woman studies Roshan curiously as they climb the old steps and the not-so-old old man realizes she must have seen the sadness in his eyes when they first met and seeks its source now. It is obvious she wants to ask, but Ireena does not do so with her words. The nobles of Calimshan were the same. Politeness overrules many things among nobility.

Roshan simply smiles warmly at her, a smile he knows does not shine in his eyes when he looks at her. Ireena reminds him of someone he misses quite dearly and the sweetness of seeing a young woman so similar to her is tinged with sorrow’s bitter taste.

Ireena leads him down the right hall at the top of the steps.

“Evrrot has taken this first room, but there is another just there past it.” She points to the open door down the hall.

“And where is your room?”

“First door on the left,” she points down the opposite hall. “I’ll be staying with Evie.”

He hums to himself. The distance is more than Roshan would like if any threat were to visit this dear girl in the night. Evie may be in the room with her, but he is not certain of the angry girl’s abilities in a true fight. He worries her hiss may be worse than her bite.

“And Evrrot is in this one?”

Ireena nods, “I’ll be just downstairs if you need anything. Dinner should be ready in a couple hours.”

The lovely girl descends the old staircase and Roshan knocks on Evrrot’s door. A loud sigh comes from the room before the door opens. The tiefling raises his brow, the picture of a man who has been interrupted doing something of the utmost importance in his very empty room with nothing to occupy him. Except himself, Roshan supposes.

“Do you want to room together, friend?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Roshan half turns to go, “Is it not better to be safe in numbers?”

“I wanna sleep by myself.”

Evrrot closes the door in Roshan’s face.

“Okay.”

Roshan does not let Evrrot dampen his good cheer in the slightest. His lord has led him to his purpose, guided him from the cursed forest to a town with answers, led him to Ismark and Ireena, blessed him with the power to sanctify Kolyan’s body, and returned to him again as the sun returns to the land every dawn. This is a good day.

And if anything should happen in the night, he trusts his lord will wake him. Either that or the sounds of screams.

Evrrot shuts the door in the old man’s face.

Does he want to share a room—of course he doesn’t to share a room with the old badger! That doddering old fool chasing his godsdamned “holy” feather is why Evrrot’s stuck in this cursed shit hole and the priest has been stepping on Evrrot’s heels ever since. The others are no better. Tailor—how else would the fucking giant find clothes to fit—and Thorns were dragged by their weird trinkets too, no matter what lies they told him. Arcane focus and heirloom or some shit. Not the worst lies. Not the best.

He should know.

The best lies hide the truth by using it. And the best liars can tell a man he picked up the wrong sword from weapon collection and make him believe a hilt stuck in a scabbard full of rocks is his while you walk away with a new blade to sell. Tone, emotion, plausibility. All of these are necessary. Threads was close calling that amber shard an arcane focus. Evrrot suspects there’s a small bit of truth to that, but the man tried to sound too casual. Casual in the way someone who’s just had their diary picked up tries to say it’s just a book they’re not particularly enjoying in the hopes the other will lose interest and leave it before their secrets come spilling out of the pages for all the world to see.

And Thorns. Evrrot would’ve expected her to be a born liar with the way she acts and dresses. He can’t imagine a punk on the street would get very far without a silver tongue. Maybe he caught her off guard with the question. She had just been dragged into a new world by the very thing she wanted to keep secret, after all. Guess it surprised her too.

Evrrot surveys the bedroom he’s claimed for the night. It’s close to the stairs should shit go down, there’s only one window, and the planks across it look like they’ve seen the least amount of damage out of all the rooms. He checked. Evrrot suspects one good kick from the inside and he’ll be home free should he need a second exit. It’s a two story jump, but he’s dealt with worse.

At first glance around the room there’s little of interest. But first glances often miss quite a bit and Evrrot isn’t the type of man who likes to miss things. Missed things turn into bad things that can be quite dangerous for one’s health—like when there’s an explosive rune carved into a jewelry box if you don’t have the key. But on occasion, missed things turn out to be quite beneficial when found. That’s why a bit of impolite prying can turn up some pretty interesting secrets. The kind that can be weaponized at the right moment. And the best way to hide those is with magic.

Evrrot’s never been particularly adept at magic. He can’t exactly spit out spell after spell like those wizardy sorcerous types, but he has a few tricks of his own. Tracing a brief sigil in the air with the force of what little infernal arcanum burns in his blood, the sigil ignites like embers in the air and flashes in his eyes. The dark brown burning to hellish gold as the room unfolds around him in faint colorful auras.

If there’s anything here hidden by magic of any kind, it will light up like a faerie bonfire of colored light in his arcana infused eyes. The spell only lasts ten minutes, but that’s more than enough time for someone with his expertise in a room as small as this one.

He glances around with the eager itch of excitement in his fingertips..

Fuck.

There is absolutely nothing. Not a single trace of arcane aura anywhere. That’s not exactly uncommon, but it catches him as a bit strange. Were this a tavern or an inn, sure. The owners would never waste their money on enchanted things that could be stolen by guests. Were this the home of some poor sod off the street, it would also make sense. They can never afford anything beyond the food in their bellies. But a rich man’s house? Even as faded from wealth and high society as Ismark and Ireena have become, he expected something to catch his spell even if it’s no more than a little enchantment on the windows to keep the draft out or some small spell to make sure the bed is never cold.

Evrrot plops himself heavily on the side of the bed, his ass sinking several inches into the plush layers and bending his tail uncomfortably. He shifts it without thought as one born with a tail does after all these years. How the other races exist without a tail, he doesn’t understand. What must it feel like to not have a counterbalance? And how do they not confuse each other when there’s no expression in their tails while they speak? Anger isn’t just furrowing one’s brows and making fists. There’s fiery anger, irritated anger, cold anger and the tail is how he’s always read which he’s dealing with. It’s hard to read tailless folk sometimes, but he’s gotten better over the years.

Bored and hungry, his tail taps an irritated rhythm along the soft covers. Evrrot is about to leave and see if anyone’s made food yet when his eyes drift to the small night table beside the bed. A tarnished candlestick catches the dripping wax of the freshly lit candlestick Ireena lit for him. Next to it, tucked beside a fancy paperweight, sits a small book—a journal likely seeing as it holds no title along its cover or spine.

He snatches it up and flips through the pages back to front. A habit he picked up in his line of work. People are more likely to hide the best bits near the end or on the backside of pages. Most of the pages are crisp and blank. Disappointing. The only thing of interest is a list of names near the front. None of them are familiar but they all sound very Barovian based off the names he’s heard so far. Lot’s of -vich’s and -yana’s. Several of the names are crossed off, but a small group circled thrice over snags his attention in passing.

Oleg, Mirasov, Svetlana, Liliana, Ivanna.

All of them ending in Lansten.

Evrrot files the names in his mind incase they will be of interest later and tosses the book back on the night table. There are still several minutes left on his magic detection spell, so Evrrot goes about checking all the usual places people hide their secrets. And when he finishes with the room, he sneaks out and finds the places not welcome to him.

The rich always have secrets.

#dark fantasy #gothic fiction #gothic fantasy #curse of strahd #strahd von zarovich #barovia #d&d campaign #dnd vampire #vampire fiction #ireena kolyana #curse of strahd ireena #cos ireena #cos ismark #ismark kolyanovich #ismark the lesser #my fiction #my writing #tales of no one

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raviollies · 1 year

Note

slightly sad because I was rooting for blythe/ireena 😔😔 congrats on the sex though

So I was sitting on this ask and I have some opinions that I kinda wanna throw out there

I'll preface that my opinion is a bit unorthodox and doesn't apply to like. 90% of people Ive seen. It's also subject to change depending on if I am proven wrong on my good will regarding this topic.

But in short anon- no need to be sad? I cannot stop you from shipping what you want to ship. If you like Blythe/Ireena, you are free to like it. I don't care as long as you're not belittling me, my fellow players or others! I like exploring different dynamics so I'll definitely make art for them even if it's not "canon™".

I won't lie, the reception to Blythe has been rather surprising! It's exciting to have almost a little fandom. I share a lot of the tags and comments with my party and DM and they love them too! I am very laid back in terms of how people interact with my content. As long as you don't claim Blythe is your creation, you're free to make fanart or write stuff, I don't care- just link me to it! I have all fanart I stumble across saved!

TLDR; Blythe/Ireena may not be canon but if it makes you happy, I don't see why you can't root for them or find them cute. It doesn't stop us in TV shows or video games so. Just stay respectful of me and my writing of her and we're Gucci! :>

#ask #anon #if i catch a single person throwing shade at arameia i will throw hands #arameia is a BRO

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a-cypress-tree-draws · 2 years

Text

As promised!

So story time. Tl;dr, after an hour long ritual, Zelrae is a Skinwalker now, though she doesn't know it yet. I just had to draw her with her ears and bonus new outfit :3. I'm not sure if every version of Ravenloft is the same or not, so I'll put the spoilers below the break ^•^

So, long story super short, Zelrae died. It was really either her or anyone else. We had decided more-or-less as a party after being turned away at the Burgomaster's manor by his son---

Doktor's note: As Lovinia (Cypress's other character) is taking the place of Ireena, Ismark serves the purpose of both himself and his sister, informing the party of the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind & the fate of the Burgomaster only after allowing them entry to the manor.

--That the only way to really progress forward was to take care of the zombies in town. We also decided that, despite Azariel being wounded and running low on resources, that there was no time like the present to do so. As we knew from Madam Eva's reading (and an earlier poorly-thought out journey by Azariel and Ashlyn the Lightbringer--

Doktor's note: sorry.

--) that what caused it came from the church, we set off immediately.

We weren't ready.

Everyone fell down to less than 10% HP. I made a desperate play as Zelrae to cast Cure Serious Wounds on the thing, and she... paid for it with her life.

I was really sad for a while. Didn't help that @dr-darkwood ended the session right after the fight was over.

It's okay though, because he also let all our characters take the level the fight had earned them, witch granted our druid the spell Reincarnate. He put the work in to make his own table specifically for reincarnation on the Demiplane of Dread, and let me roll on it.

The first time, I rolled Drow.

He made me reroll it.

#digital drawing #digital art #pathfinder #ttrpg #character drawing #ttrpg character #pathfinder 1e #Expedition to Castle Ravenloft #curse of strahd #Drow #Oracle #sarenrae #skinwalker #Wolfgirl #Ravenloft

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acronycjellyfish · 5 years

Photo

i was.... thinkign about they....

#ismark kolyanovich #ireena kolyana #curse of strahd #my art #inktober #ME SCRUBBING A PAN VIOLENTLY AT WORK: O HMY GOD OHMY FHDO #yall......... i get so sad every time i think about ireena and ismark #i know its. horror hopeless campaign but :(#MAN IM SAD AGAIN HRNHGRBDN #weve messed up a lot in this campaign yall it makes my heart hurt real bad

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glassblossomsthunderstorm · 3 years

Audio

Well, the High Rollers Crew asked for it, so I decided to deliver🐛🍂🎲

We Didn’t Start The Mire based on their Curse of Strahd campaign and Billy Joel’s We didn’t start the fire.

This is pretty much a summary of the events of HR COS up to episode 33, so obviously beware the spoilers!

Disclaimers: As much as I would like to be a kickass Alto, a kickass Alto I am not. Instead I’m one of dem High Sopranos, so the pitch of this song is... not exactly ideal for my voice. I’m also not a native english speaker, so please let me know if you find anything gravely wrong with the lyrics! I also don’t know the first thing about mixing music, so I’m aware that this is very amateurish, but despite my terror of the whole fandom laughing at this, somebody might end up liking it, hopefully, so here we go! The ending part was a last minute idea, but I like it :) I’m sure other’s have done something like this much more successfully already, but I’m actually pretty proud of how my lyrics turned out, so I wanted to share it anyways😊

Anyways, enough excuses, lyrics can be found under the cut, background track by ProSound Karaoke Band! Headphones probably help and check out High Rollers!

Travellers in Barovia,

Ravenloft and Bonegrinder,

The Kolyanas, Madam Eva, and Taroka Decks.

Shadow beyond the Veil,

Rose summons thorn and hail,

Yesper and the Dragonborns,

Vallaki is not safe.

Xiiki comes back from the dead,

But there’s something that she lacks,

Shadow figures, giant snail,

Bones of St. Andral.

Silver Dragon, He-Who-Grins,

Don’t you trust the Mystan-Twins,

Pacts made with Asmodeus,

Ireena is Tatyana.

We didn’t start the Mire,

It has always been here,

Before Strahd had sowed fear.

We didn’t start the Mire,

No, the earth is rising,

And it’s socialising!

Sunsword and Mad Mage,

Strahd is full of rage,

Towers are collapsing,

And Xiiki’s down again.

Shadow dies and Rose is grieving,

Yesper’s mad and Xiros’ scheming,

Ismark is a himbo,

And Strahd just fucking sucks.

Mistrust, secret deals,

Giving Xiiki guilty feels,

Dogsbody gives some hope,

Turns out he’s a lycanthrope,

Yesper-Xiros-heart-to-heart

Helps drawing another card,

Ezmerelda joins the Gang,

But she’s too intolerant.

Chorus

Scarecrows, Wereravens,

Vineyards and green gems,

Dragons walk their own way,

Nearly ends in TPK.

Xiros, Xiiki are no more,

Living in Avernus lore,

Tom and Rhi make new plans,

Coming back as the lands.

Party is completely torn,

But therefore the Mire’s born,

Bugs and shrooms are everywhere,

Lysaga isn’t fighting fair,

Flying skulls and kidnapped kids,

Snakes are being little shits,

Grasping vine and darkness cast,

Yesper isn’t made to last.

Chorus

Nope-ropes are cut in twain,

House is in rock throwing range,

Strahd owes me money now,

Yesper’s taking his last bow.

Finally the zombie dies,

Ireena makes a sacrifice,

Hut’s defeated, Rose is sad,

Ding dong the witch is dead.

Second relic is unveiled,

The party’s plans are derailed,

Because Ezmerelda’s back

In the town of Krezk.

Chorus

Crystal ponds, abbey bells,

Alvaski versus truth spells,

Shadow’s breaking all our hearts,

Dead ducks don’t fly backwards.

Tracking down Vasilka,

Ismark of the Opera,

Stitched together angel pricks,

Silvered weapons, magic kicks.

Vasilka’s tearing wolves apart,

Alvaski’s story hurts my heart,

Rose’s quest is Shadow’s rest,

Mark, we all are fucking stressed!

Mirewolf and werewolf dens,

Laughing fits and opened cans,

Tom and Trotty ship their boys,

HR fandom make some noise!

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badassindistress · 4 years

Text

The Melancholy Remembrances of Emily St Aubert (7th letter)

My dear Philine,

I hear you've run away to be a mathematician, so I hope the equations are treating you well. Your choice of career seems infinitely more prosperous than mine, since adventure is treating me rather poorly as of late. No, that is not fair, since my friends have been wonderful. But to you I can be entirely honest and you won't be shocked by my language when I say Borovia is a dratted, dreary and thrice darned place.

I am beginning to believe that Borovia excels in nothing so well as in tragic romance. The Vampiric Count Strahd von Zarovich who reigns over this land had a doomed longing for his brother's wife, but I'm sure he got over it tolerably well, since he got married four times. All four are still around, he seems to be collecting wives. And my friend Ireena is to be the new piece in his collection, possibly because she resembles the doomed Tatiana von Zarovich. Perhaps when Vasilka does too, that may adequately distract the Count. Vasilka, you must understand, is a young lady created entirely to be a perfect wife for Strahd. I am imparting on her all those useful feminine arts like dancing, embroidery and proper concealment of daggers. Vasilka does not have a choice in marrying Strahd, so I feel she should at least have a mode of defense.

I write to you because I feel you'd understand. You ran away from an advantageous marriage as I did from one that would bring me the approval of my remaining family members. Vasilka has no way of disagreeing with the path she has been created for, but I hope I could help her nonetheless.

Ezmeralda, an awe-inspiring woman (who we should never under any circumstance introduce to Fiona for fear of our friend losing her heart and mind entirely) says we may have something of a bargaining position, that the Count needs us for something. Well, I need him to leave my friends alone. But I will settle for some more information. In particular anything that can help the true Tragic Romance, the remains of which I witnessed today. An undead knight, who has forgotten even his beloveds name, it is truly too sad. The knight does nothing but keep the Count imprisoned and the entire country with him.

My dear Philine, you know I am wont to fret and worry over my friends. You'll think me foolish, but I am so very concerned for my friend Everard. I really ought to call him Lord Vaquelin, but I feel no such polite distance between us now. Travelling together brings people close in a way nothing else does. Take Raisa, a soldier I would not have dared address at home, now become an indispensable comfort to me. I must admit I seek her company frequently, because she makes me feel safe like no other.

But her considerable strength alone won't save us. And it certainly won't save Everard, who I fear may be under the influence of a great and powerful evil. He says his new Patroness is a force of good, but if that were true, then why would the undead knights have imprisoned her? I spent some time truly believing Strahd was a kind and trustworthy man, could Everard be under the same kind of charm? Perhaps not. He said he had the ability to lift such a charm for a short time, so surely he'd know? And she did bring him back to life, so perhaps she does have our best interests at heart.

I keep on trying to compare Everard's behaviour from before to that after his return, but I cannot make out a difference. I feel the only difference is in how I regard him, because at the start of our acquaintance he confused me greatly.

Please write back to me to tell me of your circumstances. Are you attached to a school or a court? Can one strive to be Royal Mathematician? Who would have thought from our school days we would end up like this. The mischief we got in at school certainly didn't foretell our careers, did they... Remember when Fiona had a crush on the baker's daughter, so we stole all the bread so she'd have to deliver more? I'm afraid I've always been a bit foolish in the pursuit of romance, haven't I? I see two hearts torn asunder and my soul yearns for them. I remember that night talking to you, far past curfew, about how marriage sounded like a dream. Hearts uniting souls, love bound up in matrimony. And I still believe it, at heart. That's what a true marriage is. Hearts and souls united, even beyond death. Those poor revenant knights, wearing rings for loves long forgotten. Tears come to my eyes just thinking of it.

I'll light a candle tonight, for the forgotten lovers.

I miss our childhood adventures. Everything seemed so innocent and easy then.

Ever yours,

Emily St Aubert

Tagging the party: @aporeticelenchus @pioup-pioup @guineamaina @ratheralark @somuchbetterthanthat @m-siecle

#Emily's Melancholy Adventures #talia writes #a talia original #curse of strahd spoilers

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doycetopia · 5 years

Text

Ravenloft Ironsworn, part 11, The Chapel

The Chapel

“We need to move now before more of those….things come for us.”

Ismark and Ireena nod, glancing around – Ismark uneasily, Ireena more resigned, but both on guard.

Okay. Map time…

[

This is where we left the rubble remains of the gargoyle behind. There’s a faint footpath through the courtyard, through a small gate, now open again, and into…

A smaller courtyard that houses an overgrown, neglected garden, with small flowers reaching sadly skyward against the gloom.

An overlook over the precipice. Dead leaves turn spirals on this large stone balcony, wheeling and careening over the stone railing. Heavy clouds overhead drizzle constantly. The stone construct juts out at least 20 feet away from the cliff face, and looks down on the dim lights of the village of Barovia, far, far below.

The building to our left as we slipped into the overgrown-flower-garden-courtyard is probably, based on the outside of the structure, the castle’s chapel – with faint light leaking out of the windows. “It is so strange to see a space dedicated to the holy, in this unholy place,” murmurs Ireena. There doesn’t seem to be any easy way to get into the chapel from this courtyard – there is no door from the outside into the building in this area. However, the walls of the chapel are pierced by many tall windows. These windows were probably once stained glass art, but most of that glass is broken out, and the windows themselves have been covered with boards. It MIGHT be possible to get into the castle via the chapel, if you can manage to pull or break the boards that block the windows.

And finally…

The northern courtyard surrounding the castle. A quick glance spots a carriage house in the corner of the space, and that MIGHT mean there is a servant’s entrance into the castle in this area as well. (Call it likely, if I use the Oracle.)

We’ll want to move quickly if we want to keep anyone from tracking us down from the noise we made.

And, I mean, all this is interesting and cool, but let’s be honest: I’m breaking into the castle through the boarded up chapel windows

I’m not sure how well this is going to work, but I’m going to engage the Delve mechanics for this. I’m going to call the Castle an Extreme site.

Well okay. Nice start for us.

Delve the Depths says I get to Find An Opportunity:

FIND AN OPPORTUNITY When you encounter a helpful situation or feature within a site, roll on the following table OR if you are making this move as a result of a strong hit on Delve the Depths, you may pick or envision an opportunity instead of rolling.

Then, choose one:

Gain insight or prepare: Take +1 momentum.

Take action now: Make a move which directly leverages the opportunity. When you do, add +1 and take +1 momentum on a hit.

I’m going with “you locate an interesting or Useful object.” And let’s see what’s inside…

THE CHAPEL Dim spots of colored light filter through broken and boarded up stained glass windows, barely illuminating the ancient chapel. Pews and benches lie about the floor in jumbled disarray, coated with centuries of dust.

Slightly above the room’s debris, lit by a single, dim shaft of moonlight, an altar stands upon the platform before the boarded-up windows we pulled open. The light falls directly on a small figurine of pure silver. This room seems as though nothing has disturbed it in centuries, and that nothing ever could.

BEFORE THE ALTAR, ON THE FLOOR A black-robed figure, long-dead, lies collapsed before the altar, still clutching a rusted, curved blade in one skeletal hand, as though he died with his back to the altar. … actually, as you come around the altar, you see that he died because his head was crushed. A great, silver-headed flail – still pristine – has all but demolished the corpse’s skull. The former wielder of the mace is there as well, long-dead and lying on its side on the steps leading up to the platform. The second corpse wears rusting armor, covered by a tunic emblazoned with a centuries-old symbol of the same knightly order you serve.

EXITS The center of the western wall has a great double door that leads into the rest of the ground floor of the castle. On either side of the great door are smaller, arched openings that lead into smaller shadowed alcoves and stairwells. Ireena, looking at the mace, murmurs “a weapon of light – a weapon with a vengeance – you may find this amid the ruins of a place of prayer.” She shivers, looking around. The Vistani fortune teller woman had true sight, it seems. ”

Okay, so there’s a cool shiny toy, but first I want to know about the tableau of violence. I’m going to ask the oracle if this guy in farwarden livery is someone I know.

Oracle says “yes” with a 98.

Is it Reinhardt?

Oracle says “yes” with a 52. Whoa. Okay.

Ireena watches as I kneel near the armored warrior. “Did you know him?”

I can only nod. “The spirit from the graveyard.” A sad, fleeting smile. “The big one.”

“He seems a great knight,” says Ismark. “And wielded a mighty weapon.”

I nod, but I’m frowning. “Actually, Reinhardt favored a great hammer. I’ve never seen that mace before.”

Gather Information

Rolling +wits on this, +1 for having a bond with Reinhardt. I get a 9, versus a 2, and 9 on the Challenge dice. Weak hit, BUT WAIT: my Find an Opportunity strong hit gave me a +1 to this move as well, which makes that 9 a 10. Strong hit!

On a strong hit, you discover something helpful and specific. The path you must follow or action you must take to make progress is made clear. Envision what you learn (Ask the Oracle if unsure), and take +2 momentum.

That’s pretty nice, plus I get another +1 momentum from the Find an Opportunity move, which gets me to 9, and I’m marking a milestone on my “Investigate/Avenge the missing members of the Freewardens” backstory quest.

“The action you must take to make progress is made clear.” Is it? Cuz I’m kind of scratching my head a little bit.

I hit the Action and Theme oracles and get “Hide Memory.” Ooh. Okay. I can do something with that.

So, we have some kind of fight here between a berobed shadowy figure, and a member of the farwardens. Shadow-robe guy trying to block the altar (maybe?), Reinhardt killing him, but dying himself..

Something about the whole thing tickles at the back of Brigitte’s mind – an old legend, or prophecy, or maybe – no – one of the oldest vows ever sworn on iron by anyone in the wardens – some would say the original oath – a vow every member undertakes, symbolically (they thought), when they join the farwardens. A holy relic. Find it and return it to the light.

It’s… impossible. Ridiculous. It’s a myth. A legend. A symbol, not an actual thing.

[I’m imagining here something akin to a knight ten generations removed from King Arthur but nominally part of the same order of the Knights of the Round Table, on an entirely different mission, and literally stumbling across their mentor, who died two steps from the literally Holy Grail. Which is a real thing?!? WTF?]

And if that little figurine on the altar is…

That would make that flail in Reinhardt’s hand…

Oh. Oh crap.

original post

#Actual Play #ironsworn #pbta #ravenloft #randomaverage

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thednd1911 · 5 years

Note

12, 13, 30 for the ask meme thing

12. Your in-game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from.

Spiderbeard, where Athos (coming up) says he has a beard full of spiders. Spider casualties have been low, so far. “My Beard!” he says, as he gets a face full of a zombie's fist.

“Velociraptors” so, what had happened is that when I was a newer DM I had about 3 velociraptors attack 3 party members (the 4th went on his own to another part of the abandoned town they were in) and the resident sorcerer had one shot one of the velociraptors. They were all LVL 2 I believe. Well, me seeing this was like “oh, they can handle two more, its fine, I want a challenge!” well, long story short, one of the characters died as the velociraptors tore them apart, with the other two going down and with a lucky 20 to get back up the Fighter managed to run off and kill the rest of the velociraptors.

13. Introduce your current party.

So, I actually have quite a few that I DM and one I am a player in, so I’ll do little snippets of each.

Party 1: Curse of Strahd Disasters

It starts with Aramis, a non-binary Tiefling druid who loves Trees, yet hates the trees here in Barovia due to the trees not liking them. In love with both William and Ireena. Will probably get neither.

Next is Athos, a human druid who spends half of his time caring for his Spiderbeard and the other half making sure Aramis doesn’t feed fish the Meat Pies from the nice old lady who was selling them in the Village of Barovia. Likes beasts, and spends what little time he has wild shaped.

and then Arelia, a human Druid who loves the Sun. And, presumably, hates the sun here. It's not real sunlight! Probably the most dangerous to vampires due to a slew of Radiant abilities.

William was the resident Tiefling Bard who replaced the next character and is in love with the Stories of the bard in Vallaki and his own lute. Whether he has any other interests is debatable. May be Horny.

then d’Artagnan, My DMPC who recently disappeared, was an Aasimar ghost Warlock/sorcerer. He was edgy. It's all I can seem to make.

Party 2: Descent into Avernus

This one has Zirrelun, but as I am a player and we haven’t played in a hot minute I don’t remember the names of the other characters... I'm Sorry! Zirrelun himself is an Aasimar Forge Cleric who made a thing then got wrapped up in a conspiracy. Considers himself a people person, when in reality it is quite the opposite. Currently has mixed feelings with Fire Angels.

Party 3: Kinky Drow Slaves (OotA)

This one is only half-formed, as we are going to have session 0 to make characters, but this is what I have so far.

The Walker, a human fighter whose dad sold him to slavery and just got out. To end up a slave to the drow. Helped a couple of people and now has an unwanted Folk Hero Status. The player has a love for Drow. If only he was a bard...

Verus, the Necromancer Wizard with a love for snakes. Noble family with ties to demons, he cut himself off of them just to follow this path. Interesting. Probably a Necrophiliac. Another slave of the Drow, with the player loving drow as well.

Then two more whose characters have not been detailed. Sad.

30. Are your players diplomatic or murder hobos?

for the first party, murder hobos with one Diplomat. It's rough for that Diplomat.

for the second one, its most definitely Murder Hoboes through and through.

For the Third, I’m not sure. But I’m catching Murder Hobo Vibes. I don’t know. I just feel like that Necromancer is going to be wanting some corpses.

Thanks for the Ask, Anon! and sorry I took so long to answer, I ended up having to stop halfway through to go to work.

#dnd #asks #answered #Anon

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dndeviants · 5 years

Text

Vasili’s Townhouse

Linda pulled out the journal and began reading it... trusting Ruki to guide them to the right address. Her heart pounded as she walked, reading through Strahd’s perspective of rulership of Barovia...

While she expected to read the depraved thoughts of a devious and evil man, what she found was more unsettling...

He was like her.

She read as he described the aftermath of war, the tiredness... resigning to duty... trying to return to a normal life... Boredom...

A brother? Sergei... happiness... Family...

What happened? She read and read... A girl, Tatayana...Sergei’s beloved... he loved her. Jealousy... delving into magic... Her heart ached with pity as she read his descent into obsession... Death...

Murder. He murdered his friend, Alek, hardly even thinking... Murder of his brother... Tatayana would be his... She leapt to her death. Then betrayal...

Leo Dilisnya. She flipped through and read about his attack on the wedding guests... So it turned out that Strahd did not murder them after all... Leo escaped. Years passed, Strahd returned to his duty- then Lovina Wachter told him where Leo was... she paused at a passage:

She took both sheets of parchment and read the introduction right through. As the head of an important house, she would know my writing well enough by now from past documents. This one told her that I was Lord Vasili Von Holtz (I had combined the given name of my great-grandfather with that of his wife's maiden name) and that she was to consider my voice the voice of Strahd in all matters and render me every reasonable assistance for my errand. The bottom of the sheet was properly stamped, and it carried a wax seal impressed with the Von Zarovich coat of arms. She studied it all at length, making me glad I had prepared things so fully.

Her heart pounded as she read, and re-read... Vasili... Vasili is Strahd! She felt a small fury... mostly at herself. So that is what Rictavio meant. She beat herself up... How could she? No, how dare he make her care about him that way! How dare he lie to her...

Why did she still care? She shook her head and forced herself to calm. She’d get to the bottom of this better with a level head.

She looked to her companions, thinking. She couldn’t trust the native Barovians... Strahd was masquerading as Vasili for a reason, and she didn’t want to risk angering the vampire by revealing the truth... better to have some kind of leverage over him... Ruki surely knew already, and she didn’t want to alert her to her discovery.

The other outsiders... She looked over to Aric and Jeeves, and tried something on a hunch... They seemed the type to be heavily involved with criminals and criminal activities, despite Aric’s noble heritage. She too was well versed in the ways of the underworld, and spoke the coded language of rogues and rapscallions:

Thieves Cant.

She walked over to the boys, "Do you guys know what I'm saying? I am not sure if you know Thieves Cant."

Aric startled and nodded, replying in the same, "Of course, we wouldn't be very good at what we do if we didn't know, now would we?"

Jeeves inclined his head, "What's the troubling news? We have a bit of our own..."

"I have another of those journal fragments...” she looked to Ruki and back to them, “Vasili is not who he says he is."

Ruki paused, tilting her head back to listen to them. It was Common, it seemed... but it was filled with so much slang, jargon, and gibberish that she could hardly understand. She shook her head and focused on making sure the rest of the group didn’t get themselves lost.

Aric looked to Linda and nodded, grimly, "I've had my suspicions for a while, but he has had solid answers to my concerns, until just now at least,” Aric lowered his voice, “We caught Ruki and Vasili speaking in Infernal."

Linda raised her brow, "Oh, what was it about?

“A curse placed on a woman,” Aric replied, “And apparently, The Holy Symbol of Ravenkind belonged to Vasili's brother.”

"That's interesting,” Linda replied sarcastically, bitterness creeping into her voice, “considering that he is actually Strahd."

"As in the ruler of this place?” Aric allowed himself a moment of disbelief before nodding, “I did find it strange that 'Vasili' traveled around and tended to the business of Strahd. I guess my suspicions were correct."

Jeeves folded his arms, "Yeah, it was suspicious that he gave him permission to do as he pleased and gave him a writ."

Aric decided that he trusted Linda, "I wanted to know more about the pendant, so I stole it from Ruki and was planning on confronting them anyway, I vote we do it together."

“Sounds good,“ Linda replied, glad that Aric was on the same page as her. She held out a hand, “Though, I suggest pulling them away from the others. Don’t want to cause too much of a scene.”

They wound the corner and walked straight north... It was a quieter part of town. It didn’t seem like most of the buildings here were inhabited. Ruki turned to her companions:

“We will be approaching the manor soon.“

Ruki led them to the manor and looked up at the house. The two story manor had a good view of Lake Zarovich. She nodded to herself fondly. She remembered working on this house when she was a child... It was humble, but well equipped to deal with any threat, and was a favorite hideout of Strahd’s whenever Vasili had any business that needed to be attended to. It wasn’t as grand as the castle, nor as extravagant... but it was a central location for both her vampire friends and Vistani relatives.

It didn’t seem that much changed about the house... save for that Mina’s trips to maintain the house were less frequent than usual. She shook her head at the sad, wilted tulips.

Linda looked to the house... The windows were covered by red-painted shutters, the house itself was that of a gray white. It seemed modest enough, but the location was telling to her: far away from the crowds, and with quick access to the lake, it seemed like a perfect place for a country retreat...

Or a convenient murder. She put her hand on her revolver for comfort.

Aric glanced at the house. Vasili- or Strahd- has good taste. Shame about the tulips...

Linda walked to the front door... she heard movement on the other side. She knocked. There was a pause, but then Vasili came to the door.

Vasili looked over everyone and smiled with closed lips, "Ah, you made it. Please, by all means, come in..."

He bowed to them and stepped to the side, gesturing for them to come in.

Linda hesitated, and peered around him... She heard the sound of kitchen tools, saw a broom sweeping the floors on its own-

And a large wolf walking down the hall toward them.

Aric saw the wolf in the house and immediately jumped back, nearly knocking Jeeves down. Jeeves stumbled and caught Aric in his arms.

“OOF! Um... my Pasha?“ Jeeves inquired of Aric’s skittish behavior.

“Harald!“ Ruki called out in happy recognition of her favorite pet, “How are you, boy?“

The wolf bounded up to Ruki, wagging its tail.

Linda gestured down to it, “Why do you have a wolf?”

Vasili- or Strahd- seemed genuinely surprised at the question. He laughed, “A wolf? There are no wolves here. This is my dog, Harald.”

Suddenly, everyone gathered was unsure of the dog being a wolf... It looked surprisingly like a wolf, and still did.

Linda blinked, and removed her hand from her revolver, “That’s just a really big dog, then.”

Jeeves nodded, “It must be one of those husky dogs I have heard about...”

Aric slowly lowered himself, “Sorry Jeeves, he just surprised me.”

“You may pet him if you wish,“ Vasili granted them permission.

Linda, always an animal lover, reached down and pet the beast, “Hello, Harald.”

Harald wagged his tail at the attention. Vasili took Harald away from the door.

“Come on boy, let them in...“ He moved to the side, “Warm yourselves by the fire."

Linda ventured in first, followed by Ireena and Ismark, Victor not too long after. Ruki went in as well. Aric and Jeeves lingered in the back, but ultimately came in as well. Vasili locked the door behind them.

The Barovians went immediately to warm themselves by the fire, but the outsiders lingered in the hall with Vasili.

"Thank you for having us Vasili,” Aric said, “I hope we won't be too much trouble."

Vasili shook his head, "Not at all. My home is your home."

Aric peered around Vasili and saw a young woman hard a work, cooking in the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t actually expecting anyone else to be there...

Linda turned to Aric, speaking in the Cant, "Should we talk to him now? In another room maybe?"

Aric nodded, "I think that would be best, there is someone in the kitchen and I wasn't expecting someone here besides him."

They silently nodded to each other, and turned to face Vasili. Vasili quirked his head at the odd slang.

Aric stepped forth, “Lord... Holtz,” he ventured, “Linda, Jeeves, and I were wondering if there is someplace private that we may talk with you and Ruki. I have some concerns over my current state, and seeing as you two know this place better than we do, I was hoping for some advice. Linda also has some concerns to run by you.”

Vasili paused, then nodded thoughtfully, "My study is right here. Would that be sufficient?" Vasili indicated a door in the hallway, away from the main living space.

"That will be perfect," Aric replied.

Vasili unlocked the study door. The small space was crammed with bookcases and different tomes of study. Everything was organized and in order. A little writing desk sat in the middle of the room with a chair on one side. A window looked to the outside from behind the desk. The night was pitch black.

Ruki stepped in and stood by the desk. Jeeves leaned against a side wall.

Vasili closed the door behind them, “What questions do you have?”

Aric looked to Linda.

Linda stepped to Vasili, "You have some kind of spell so that no one overhears us?”

Vasili quirked a brow, but responded, “Certainly. Do you wish for me to cast it?”

“Yes, please, Vasili.“ Linda held her eyes level with his.

Vasili opened the door and put a finger to his lips, muttering a small spell. When he was done, he turned around and walked past the desk, leaning on the wall near the window, “It is done...” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Aric turned to Linda, "Do you want to go first about his identity, or me about what we overheard?"

Linda faced Vasili and put her hands on her hips. She replied to Aric, "What you overheard."

Aric nodded and faced Vasili, "I guess I'll be honest now, since that is what we are going to ask of you...” he paused to clarify, “We asked you here away from everyone else because we have some concerns about you and Ruki. Earlier, Jeeves and I overheard you and Ruki discussing a curse on a woman named Tatayana, the Ba'al Verzi, and the fact that this pendant...”

Aric reached into his pack and pulled out the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, flashing it in front of the man, “This pendant belonged to your brother..."

Vasili’s eyes widened, and he flinched almost instinctively. It seemed to take every bit of effort to stand his ground. He snarled and hissed, "Put... that... damn... thing... away!"

That confirmed it. Linda put one hand on her revolver and another out in front of her, in a stopping motion. She held her eyes evenly with Strahd, and did her best to keep her voice calm, "We just want to chat, with the Lord of this place."

The man who called himself Vasili, that she now knew to be Strahd glared at her... his eyes glowing red. He seemed to calculate and weigh his options.

Aric was surprised and confused by the man’s response. He turned to Linda for guidance, holding the symbol still. Linda nodded to Aric, not breaking eye contact with the creature before her. Aric slowly put the symbol away.

Strahd seemed to calm and regain his composure.

“That is a powerful holy artifact!” Ruki was infuriated, “How dare you take that from my care?!”

Ruki pulled out her staff in anger, but Strahd stepped forward and held out a hand in front of her, reminding her of her place. She lowered her staff and took a small step back.

Strahd silently looked over them, his voice becoming a soft purr, "Very well. I will admit, that you found me out rather quickly with the aid of my journals...” he bit back the venom that slipped into his voice, resuming his civil demeanor, “I appreciate the consideration in not outing me to the people there. So, let me formally reintroduce myself...”

Strahd stood tall and put his hand over his heart, “I am Strahd von Zarovich, Lord of Barovia. Now..." He glanced over to Aric, "You wanted to know about the artifact, the Ba'al Verzi, and Tatayana?"

Aric met his gaze evenly. He wouldn’t be fazed by the murderous intent in Strahd’s eye. He wanted answers...

“My lord,” Ruki protested, “they are mere outsiders!”

Strahd’s mind touched Ruki’s, "That I understand. It infuriates me so that they had access to my journals... but regardless, I need them. If they betray me or run out of usefulness... we can deal with it then."

"We are outsiders who are trying to help and don't appreciate being lied to!" An edge crept into Linda’s voice. She forced herself to calm down, as she stared at the man who had lied to her- and probably manipulated her. Yelling or getting frustrated wouldn’t help. As dangerous as Strahd probably was, it would only succeed in getting them killed if she couldn’t control her anger.

“Yes we would,” Aric replied to Strahd. “You have kept your true identity from us, and now these things as well. We wish to get home...” Aric paused, “But I, at least, am more than willing to help you, and the citizens of Barovia,” he looked to Strahd, earnestly, “But we need to know that we can trust you.”

Strahd remained silent. Ruki folded her arms. She knew that they would have to demonstrate that themselves.

“How do you prove your willingness, then?“ Ruki demanded.

Linda was silent. She took her hand off her revolver and removed the weapons belt around her waist. She removed her monster hunting kit off of her back and tossed both of them into the middle of the room. She held up her hands, “There. I’ve taken off my weapons. Your journal is in that bag. Do what you will with that.”

Aric crossed his arms, “I admit we are strangers to you and to this place, but you are the ones who have proven yourselves untrustworthy...” he held up his hand, and indicated the Battleblade Ring, “But, I do believe that my use of this ring to prevent the burgomaster’s escape is proof enough of our intent. We just want to help you, and go home.”

Strahd examined the strangers before him, and wrapped his cloak around him. His face was expressionless, but a sad, tired tone betrayed his feelings in his voice.

"Very well,” he relented, “I will speak of what I know. You already have access to my journals, and my most private thoughts to the events in my life...” He looked over to Linda, “I have not lied to you. Though, admittedly, I may have omitted some information.... "

Linda frowned at the man. Strahd met her gaze briefly, then averted it.

Strahd fixed his gaze on Aric, and sighed, "First... The Ba'al Verzi... an ancient group of assassins, a guild of evil intent. Murderers...” He made a gesture, “I was their target once, long ago, when I became the ruler of this land. What made them so different from other assassin guilds however... was their cultist ways...”

Strahd listed, “They had to kill someone they loved to make a sheathe from the flesh, and used magic to pursue their targets... sometimes that magic was necromantic. The old Ba'al Verzi had undead to serve them. Ghosts, specters... things of that nature. Their signature weapon was a long dagger, with a hilt of gold, red, and black. All of their artifacts were marked similarly so... It seems that their guild has not died after all, and that I am still a target."

Linda blinked at the information, processing. She turned to Ruki, "Wait, so that mirror that you destroyed in the Burgomaster's house was a Ba'al Verzi artifact, Ruki?"

Strahd looked to Ruki, questioningly. He wasn’t aware of any Ba’al Verzi artifact in the Vallakovich mansion- but then again, that mansion didn’t always belong to them. “Well... then certain things begin to make sense...” he grew lost in his thoughts.

Ruki nodded to Linda, “Indeed...” she withdrew her trophies, all Ba’al Verzi daggers, “This is the dagger I confiscated from the coffin shop, and this is on old dagger that lost its magic.”

Strahd glanced at the daggers and returned to the conversation, "Indeed. True Ba'al Verzi will always have them upon their person. Henrik seems to have been a high ranking member... he also had this..."

Strahd held up Henrik’s cane, "I did some magical investigation, and this is a Rod of Golem Control. With it, he could have manipulated the golems to do certain things and exceed their own boundaries... fortunately, he perished before he got the chance to use it."

Strahd set down the cane on the study table and paused...

"Next issue... Tatayana...."

Strahd pulled his cloak back around him and gripped it a little more tightly than he had before. He spoke softly, "She was the only woman I ever loved. But... she did not love me. She loved my brother, Sergei.”

“I was overcome with jealousy... and tried to turn to magical study to turn her affections to me. It seemed... unfair that I had to give up everything- my childhood, my youth, my life... in order to survive and to meet my father’s expectations. But Sergei had to make no such sacrifices.”

An edge crept into his voice, “Everything he had was given to him... and it made me bitter. He didn't have to earn my father's pride, or love... It seemed unfair,” he repeated, “that he could naturally have anything he wanted, where I had to fight just to survive! I wanted Tatayana for my own.”

He grew quiet again, “It seems so naive and foolish now... to think that someone so innocent and pure could ever come to love someone- something- like me..."

Strahd turned away from them and walked to the window, staring out into the bleak night, "I began to blame my age, my lack of faith in humanity... and my approaching death for her disinterest in me. I... was dying. I knew the feeling... I felt it every time we fought.”

He paused, “Do you know how it is to feel Death at your back every day you wake? Every night you sleep? I did not fear death, mind you. I feared dying before I ever had the chance to live. Tatayana was the only one who made me feel... like I meant something. Who saw the goodness in me...”

Strahd looked back at them coldly, “I proved her wrong."

He turned to face them fully, "Death himself approached me the night before my brother's wedding. Offering me a chance to take what had been denied me. Coaxing me, threatening me... I debated doing anything. But... unhappy circumstances...”

“My only friend, Alek had been spying on me, trying to warn me... warn me of an attack, but all I saw was a possible betrayal. Instinctively we fought, and we mortally wounded each other. But I emerged victorious... at what cost?"

Strahd looked back to the window, "I murdered my best friend of over three decades. If I was capable of such an atrocity... surely a brother I hardly knew would be no different. But... I was lied to. I did not get what I wanted. I murdered them... for nothing. Tatayana fled from me... and killed herself.”

“I died too, that night. Truly died...” he huffed a small laugh, “Betrayed and murdered by the Ba'al Verzi. But it appears that my stubbornness triumphs even over death. I avenged myself... and was cursed to watch Tatayana live and die over and over and over again..."

Strahd put a hand over his chest, letting his cloak fall from his hands. He pat over his heart, "This... is numb now. I feel hardly anything in regards to it. I don't even care if she loves me anymore. I just want to stop watching her die so cruelly...”

“Ireena..." he murmured. Strahd faced the party, "She is Tatayana reborn."

Linda nodded, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking together. "That's why you bit her," she stated.

"Yes,” Strahd answered. “It may have been misguided, but I was trying to save her, in the only way I know how...” he held out his hands, pain in his voice, “I meant her no harm. I was tricked... and she was used...”

He raised a finger, “But I kept my word! I have not bitten her, and I will not make any more such advances...” he paused, “...not until I figure out what is going on here.”

He shrugged, “Truthfully... there are many things that I am just as confused about as you are."

Linda folded her arms, accepting his answer, “Alright.”

Strahd looked to Aric, "I suppose this brings us to the Artifact..."

Aric nodded attentively.

"Sergei...” Strahd sighed, “was the youngest of us all. My homelands had a tradition where the eldest was a war child. The middle was the estate child, and the third and after... were clergymen.”

He made a bleak gesture,”Sturm and I each performed our duties... and Sergei was meant to take over the place of the Most High Priest... solidify the von Zarovich control over our Homelands and territories... each of us controlling portions of our culture's way of life. Sergei was entrusted with the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, the pendant of the High Priest."

Strahd shook his head, "He should have stayed with tradition. He would have never met her, I would have never met her... none of...this... would have happened if he just... did what he was supposed to.” He all but snarled, “But no, apparently Father never wanted him to follow the priest path."

Strahd forced the bitterness from his voice, and shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, "In any case... it is a tool to banish creatures of the night. Destroy them. Creatures like me. The very sight of it... pains me in ways you can't even imagine... I have come up with a few ways to stave off the effects of holy auras... but nothing compares to the strength of that pendant."

Linda raised a brow. She didn’t think that vampires could work around holy auras.

Strahd noticed her response and huffed, "You let me ramble..."

Ruki humphed and folded her arms.

Linda smirked, “Of course,” she leaned against a bookshelf, "Though, I knew some of that from reading your journals. It's good to have the blanks filled in. Thank you for telling us. This was all very insightful. Aric do you have anything else to ask Strahd?"

Linda looked over to Aric.

Aric shook his head no.

Ruki glared, “If you knew, then why this underhanded interrogation?”

Linda looked to her evenly, "As I said, I knew some of it. Not all."

Strahd looked over Aric, Linda, and Jeeves, measuring their reaction. He expected anger, fear, accusation... He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was too much of a headache.

"I'm...” Strahd paused, and rethought his phrasing, “I extend my apologies to you for the deception for my true identity...” he let go of his face and looked to them, tiredly, “Please, understand that it is a danger for both me and Ruki if the general populace knew that Vasili von Holtz is not the man they think he is. The fear of my name is so... deep set in the culture. I don't know if I will ever recover."

Linda looked over to Strahd. She had been upset at his deception before, but she understood the reasons why. She couldn’t hold on to her anger, and sighed, "Even though I don't like it, I understand why you did it."

Aric clasped his hands respectfully, "Thank you for telling us all of this, I understand that it can be hard to trust those around you, especially when they are effectively strangers...” he looked over to Linda, then back to Strahd, “I guess it is only fair to say if there is anything more you want to know about us, now is the time to ask.”

“How about their boring life stories?” Ruki barely muttered.

Strahd smiled slyly and steepled his fingers.

Aric’s heart lurched, Oh dear, I didn’t actually think he was going to take me up on that.

"I want to know more about this business with rings...” Strahd tilted his head, “I sensed objects of great power entering my realm, and a mage... You bear one of those items... I want to know more about them, and this... mage."

Jeeves and Aric exchanged glances. Aric shrugged. There was no point in hiding what they were after.

Ruki turned to Aric, “And I want to know more about your servant.”

Jeeves turned to Ruki, “What about me? I'm simply a butler. Well, a mameluk technically," he pointed to Aric, "And this is my Pasha."

Ruki wasn’t buying it, “You seem to have a myriad of knowledge on many topics for a mere butler. Particularly, poisons.”

Jeeves shrugged innocently, "Well, keeping my master safe from assassins happens to be a hobby of mine...” He held out his hand, "Most of the time my job is repairing clothes that he damages either by fighting or with one of his... bouts. You see, he can have a volatile temper, and can flare up at times."

Aric flared up, “I do not have a 'volatile temper,' I just feel my aggression very strongly!"

"Of course, my lord. I apologize for my mistake," Jeeves batted off a little steam that was flaring from Aric’s shoulders.

Aric muttered about being a fire genasi to himself before turning back to Strahd, who was staring at him, waiting.

"Anyway, I am effectively the crown prince of my people,” he made a dismissive gesture, “I won't bore you with the exact details of how our social and political systems work, but I believe my cousin is working with people who wish to overthrow my father's reign. While this would be difficult to do normally there are many magical items that can help, like the Qysari rings.”

Strahd blinked and tilted his head, "So these rings are part of a set?"

Aric nodded, "Yes, there are twelve in total, at least the legends say... They were crafted by various rulers of my land for the purpose of maintaining- or overthrowing- someone’s rule. It has been a long time since all twelve were possessed by a single person,” Aric looked to Strahd, “and I want that person to be me."

Strahd looked into Aric’s eyes, and laughed, but not mockingly. "Admirable,” he purred, “I like your ambition. Now, tell me about this mage."

"You must mean my cousin, Mehmet...” Aric paused and thought, “Honestly I don't know as much as I would like. Until now, I never saw him as a threat. He's a bit of an outcast of the family, but he never seemed to have the stomach for anything dark or sinister. That’s what kept him from being afforded any power, he would have been killed almost immediately for it...”

Aric folded his arms, “At least that is what I thought. I believe he has joined up with a rival family and that's how he ended up with the rings. That is the only explanation I can come up with, he certainly didn't track all of them down himself."

Strahd pondered the information, "Thank you. In any case, I regard any mage that enters my realm as a possible threat. So I will aid you with your quest. If these are items of power, I would prefer a non magic user have them. I have no interest in them myself...."

Strahd looked over to Linda, then glanced at her weapons on the floor. He approached them and knelt next to her belt and pack. He lifted up her speedloaders, "These seem a little too specialized for a dabbler to be carrying about... silver ammunition?"

He turned to her pack and opened it. He raised a brow at the contents and tisked, "A stake, holy water... my, my..."

Linda crossed her arms across her chest, "It's a standard kit."

Strahd raised his brow at her, "For monster hunters?"

She sighed. So much for keeping that a secret from the vampire, "Yes,” she admitted. She uncrossed her arms, "I'm more of a bounty hunter, but I specialize in beasts and monsters."

Linda leaned back against the wall, "Go ahead, look through everything if you want. The stuff in there isn't meant for you."

Strahd hesitated, then smirked at her, "I'm now curious in what a kit designed to put me down would look like..."

Strahd looked through a little more of the kit. Linda called out to him, "You should be careful though, there is silver in there."

Strahd waved off her concern and stood up, walking away from her weapons, "I can touch silver. I just can't allow it to pierce my flesh.” He frowned, “But perhaps that is too much information for you... Or others..."

Strahd looked over them. He folded his cloak around him, "All I ask is to keep my true name a secret. If there is any of the same you want to ask of me, then say what secrets we are keeping. Or keep them for yourselves. I care not."

Linda walked over to her weapons and started to put her belt back on, stating, "We all have our secrets. I'm not going to pry for any more."

She secured everything to her person and walked back to her place near the bookshelf.

Strahd nodded, appreciative of Linda’s sentiment. He paused, "If there is anything pertinent, I will share.” He chuckled, “But we simply don't have the time for us to go over four hundred years worth of my secrets. You know the most pertinent of them. Anything else...” He grew serious, “ I'm not deliberately keeping from you. It's just... not important right now. Is that clear?"

Linda nodded and crossed her arms, "One last thing, though,” she looked to Strahd, “Will you still help us with our missions here? In exchange for helping you?"

"I gave you my word, didn't I?” Strahd spoke quietly, “The name I gave it under doesn't matter. It is still my word."

Linda felt a wave of relief, "Alright. Thank you."

Strahd smiled slightly at Linda, then stood straight, “I think we should return... Mina should be nearly done cooking, by the smell of it... and the rest of my guests may be worried that they’ve not heard nor seen their host in some time...”

He gestured toward the door, “Shall we?”

They nodded in agreement and fell out of the study, the savory aroma of a hardy meal greeted them. They walked into the living room and saw that the other Barovians were none the wiser to the confrontation that just happened behind them. The woman Aric saw working the kitchen had just finished setting the small table.

The woman sighed and brushed off her apron, brushing a stray streak of blonde hair from her face, “Alright, Lord Vasili. Everything is done...” She glanced over to Ruki, “Oh, Lady Ruki... I didn’t know you were coming either.”

"Actually,” Ruki replied, “I have business to attend to at the castle. I was only here to make sure things were in order."

Ruki bowed, and left the room, relieved that things were finally righting themselves.

The woman blinked at Ruki’s odd manner, “Ah, ok... bye, then.”

Strahd resumed his Vasili mannerisms, "It is alright,” he told the woman. He looked to the party, “Everyone, this is Mina. Wilhemina Harper. She is my maid, and a part time bounty hunter."

Mina frowned petulantly, "A part-time maid, and a full-time bounty hunter!"

Vasili smiled.

Linda blinked, curious. It was clear from their manner that they knew each other well... But the remark about being a bounty hunter as well...?

“Makes two of us,“ Linda said.

Vasili turned to Linda with playful shock, "Oh? You do maid work as well?"

Linda pursed her lips, trying not to show that she found his remark funny. "I do apprentice a teenager..." she finally chuckled.

Ismark rose from his chair, "Pleasure to meet you!"

Ireena nodded, "Good to meet you, Mina."

Victor waved awkwardly.

Aric nodded, “It's a pleasure, Mina, thank you for the meal.”

"You're welcome. I hope you enjoy it, even if it was... short notice... " Mina shot a small glare at Vasili.

"Again, I do apologize. It was on a whim. I appreciate the help, and will compensate you for your trouble..." Vasili seemed embarrassed.

Mina put her hands on her hips, "Good."

Vasili pulled out a seat at the table, "Let us sit together. The day has been long and... harrowing."

Everyone gathered around the table. Vasili invited Mina to sit with them. She obliged. Linda sat across from Vasili, and Aric boldly sat next to the disguised vampire.

Mina listed her dishes, "So I have some traditional dumplings with a beef roast, a tomato and basil soup, and rutabagas and turnip greens. We have some Vistani wine, water, and tuika for you. Everyone can help themselves."

Everyone gathered began to help themselves to the food, save for Strahd, who opted to drink from a flask...

It’s blood. Linda berated herself, It’s so obvious now... why didn’t I catch it?

"Not hungry, my lord?" Mina looked over to Vasili, questioningly.

"Not particularly," he replied, "I was attacked twice today. That puts a slight damper on my appetite."

Mina snorted, "Ah, pity. That makes me hungrier. I was about to ask if you ruined your appetite by smoking."

Ireena nodded and spoke with mild disapproval, "Oh, Lord Vasili was smoking. Outside of the church."

Mina pouted at Vasili.

Jeeves uncorked a small flask, and poured a purple fluid into his food, "No one eat after me."

Aric looked over knowingly. Jeeves regularly worked on his poison immunity.

"Why?" Linda asked.

"I think you'd find my seasoning disagreeable."

Linda realized he was poisoning his own food, and left well enough alone. She turned to Strahd, "So... Vasili, why did you bring us to dinner?"

"I wanted to treat my guests...” Vasili replied, “And have some place for you to stay, where you wouldn't have to pay for lodging. And also to discuss in a more private setting what our next course of action would be. Along with... getting to know everyone a little bit better... outside of a life or death situation."

Keep us from an Inn? Probably to assess if our knowledge of him would be a threat... He knew we would find out... Linda found herself impressed by his ability to think so far ahead, "I think we may have touched on the last on that list a little already."

"So... what happens now?” Ireena questioned, “I've gotten rid of the taint of vampirism in my blood... what are all of you going to do next?"

"I still need to find Timothy,” replied Linda, “and I thought we were going to help out Urwin."

Jeeves curtly nodded, "Seeing the state of the Wizard of the Wines is in our best interests."

Vasili set aside his flask, "I have agreed to not further any of Lord Strahd's other interests at the moment... a 'vacation', was it? I have decided to aid these strangers with their own ends. So, we will be on the way to Krezk."

Victor looked to Vasili, "Krezk? I think I heard that there is some strange magical happenings over there. I think I would like to investigate... and... just get a little further away from Vallaki..."

Ireena looked to everyone and thought to herself for a moment.

"I think... I will have to decline...” She sighed, “I feel like I am a bit of a handicap to everyone here... I've been kidnapped and nearly died twice. I think Ismark and I should return to Barovia Village, check in on Papa, and get back to our responsibilities."

Ismark seemed relieved, "While I would love to see more of Barovia, Ireena is right. I can't leave her alone while there are dark things after her."

"Ah, is this another reason why you called me to help? Is there someone that needs to be tracked down?" Mina looked to Vasili.

Vasili nodded, "Yes, there is a kidnapped teenager we are looking for. Timothy, I believe the boy is called. There are other cases of missing children I have been looking into. Your help would be much appreciated. But it is up to you."

"I'll help,” she raised a brow, “But I will be charging the usual."

Vasili nodded, "Of course..."

Ireena folded her hands, "Alright. So I suppose we will head back in the morning..."

Linda looked to Mina, overwhelmed by curiosity. "Mina, how did you come to know Vasili?" she asked.

Mina seemed surprised that Linda took interest, "Oh. Well I've known him basically all my life. He rescued me when my village was slaughtered by bandits. I was only nine at the time... But bandits had taken over my village and beheaded our burgomaster... then when they got bored, they burned our village to the ground. I... was the only survivor. My mother threw me into the well when they started slaughtering everyone..."

She shook her head, "I don't remember how long I waited. But Lord Vasili came to our village, and rescued me from the well. I don't remember much of it, because I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was raining, and the fire was gone. I told him what happened, and he put me in his carriage, and sent me to Vallaki. He told me to tell the people at the Inn that Lord Vasili demanded I be taken care of. So I stayed there. I told everyone what happened, and they were worried that he was going to be killed by bandits."

She nodded, "But he came back. Helped me get adopted. By the old owners of the inn. The Von Dran Family. I lived with them, and knew them to be my family too. I learned how to track and hunt from them. But one day, Papa Dran... didn't come back from the hunt. I went out and saw that he had been murdered by bandits when he was out hunting. I took up arms to find his killers, and ran into Lord Holtz again."

Vasili folded his hands over his lap, "I was also tracking down the same group of bandits. When we ran into each other, I welcomed the assistance."

Mina scoffed, "You told me to not get in your way."

Vasili corrected her, "I told you that if you were to join me, you couldn't hesitate at the critical moment."

Mina was defiant, "I didn't hesitate, did I?"

"No, you didn't.” Vasili smirked, “I was impressed. Which is why I offered you employment."

Mina was indignant, "As a maid!"

Vasili chuckled, "As a bounty hunter, and a maid. Did you refuse?"

Mina grumbled, "I needed a job."

Jeeves mused, "A maid and a bounty hunter? Those are two wildly different occupations."

"Not really. Both clean up other people's messes..." Linda looked to Vasili.

Vasili laughed, "Finally, I've waited years for someone to get the joke."

No one else at the table seemed to get that humor.

Linda was the exception, she found herself laughing with him, "You have to admit, that is one good joke."

Aric mused and looked at Jeeves, “I never looked at it that way but I guess it is true.”

Jeeves thought about it, "Oh no, that is my entire job..." he held his hands to his head, "I'm a maid...A maid who also kills people who try to harm my master and break laws. And who eats poison."

Victor pat Jeeves on the back in sympathy, "And I'm a wizard that was living in an attic for years. Reanimating cat skeletons."

Ireena tried to be encouraging, "If you think about it, Lord Vasili is also like a maid. He's cleaning up after Lord Strahd's failings."

Linda burst out laughing... Oh, it was so funny to see the look on Strahd’s face as he tried to be civil and disguise his hurt at the same time... the irony...

"I'm... trying my best..." Vasili choked out.

Ismark shrugged, sipping tuika, "I mean, there isn't much you can do."

Vasili frowned at Ismark, "I don't think it's... hopeless.Where is your sense of pride and optimism?"

“At the bottom of this cup," Ismark took a swig of the plum brandy.

Victor adjusted his glasses, "Well, I don't think I have any pride or optimism, so that makes it easy."

Linda didn’t buy it, "What about your cat, Mr. Whiskers? Aren't you proud that you reanimated him?"

Victor looked to her, "I was more relieved, actually. I didn't want to go through trying to raise another cat and go through the same pain all over again. So reanimating Mr. Whiskers was a relief."

Victor pet the cat. Mr. Whiskers purred with an unearthly echo.

Mina raised a brow, "I thought it was illegal for people to reanimate the dead..."

Vasili made a dismissive gesture, "I'll let it pass. The boy is hardly a threat, and the reanimated cat is not exactly worthy of an undead horde."

Victor held Mr. Whiskers close, "Oh no, not part of an undead horde at all. He's just here to help with my nerves is all."

Linda nodded, "Everyone has something that keeps them calm. And for some, that thing is dangerous. For others, it's an undead cat."

Jeeves looked to Linda, "For me, it is my short sword. I don't like being without it."

Aric put his arm around Jeeves’ shoulder, “For me its Jeeves,” he declared, “Nobody wants to get in the way of someone who eats poison.”

Jeeves grinned smugly.

Linda smirked, “See? Dangerous.”

Ireena pondered and took out a handkerchief with embroidery on the edges, "For me, it is this handkerchief. It was mom's, and even though I never met her, It still makes me think of her."

Ismark set down his drink, "I have a lucky coin. It's a counterfeit gold piece, that is actually a gold plated copper, and has two tail ends, instead of a head and tail. I keep it with me. Can't spend it, but it feels lucky."

Mina held out a bracelet with charms, "I have a charm bracelet. Each charm is from a family member. My first Morninlord symbol from my birth mother, a chest key from Mama Dran, an arrowhead from Papa Dran, and a nail from Georg Dran, my little brother."

Linda paused and pulled out a small puzzle box, "This is the hardest to solve puzzle box I have ever made. No one else has ever solved it. It holds my mother's wedding ring."

Everyone looked to Vasili expectantly. Vasili returned their stares with suspicion: "Well? Why are you looking at me?"

Linda looked to him, "You don't carry around anything that means something to you?"

Vasili looked to her and hesitated. He finally relented and reached into his component pouch and took out a small bone.

"A white raven's wishbone,” he explained, “It is supposed to be lucky, and grant a wish when broken. It's said the longer you keep it without breaking it, the more likely the wish will be granted.”

He paused, “It was a gift from my brother when I was... out fighting. I've had it for a very long time. And keep it in my pouch of spell components."

Vasili put away the small wishbone with care.

Linda noticed the gesture... Once more he wasn’t lying...

Linda nodded, "See even Vasili has something."

Ireena mused, "How interesting. I've never seen a white raven."

"Neither have I," Vasili admitted.

They enjoyed the rest of their meal and rested. Once everyone was comfortably full, Vasili rose from his chair, "Thank you, Mina, everything was wonderful. Now, my guests, let me show you the rest of the house and you can choose where you stay. I have a few guest rooms, if you would follow me..."

The party obliged him, and followed him to the guest room by the front door.

"All these guest rooms can accommodate two people per bed, but if you would like, I can provide bedrolls. There is a water table, bathtub, and vanity, and drawers for your use here... "

Vasili walked to the kitchen, "Over here is the kitchen and over here is the pantry, if you are still hungry, feel free to help yourselves."

Vasili led them upstairs, "Here is the sitting room, if we need to convene in a more comfortable space. This way..."

He unlocked a hallway with a piano and music cabinet. Linda looked wistfully to the piano.

"This is my piano room,” Vasili was brief, “Nothing much else to say. The other two bedrooms are this way."

He opened the doorway to a long hall, "At the end there is the water closet, should you need to use it. Here are the other two bedrooms."

He walked to back to the last room, which was much more spacious and had a fireplace, "This is the master bedroom. I don't care if any of you use it, my preferred place of rest is the study."

Vasili steepled his fingers and turned to face them, "So which rooms do you lay claim to?"

"Dibs on master," Linda was aching for a large bed to herself, and the fireplace would be convenient for her tinkering.

Jeeves looked to his master, "Well, my lord?"

Aric pointed to the room behind him, across from the master bedroom, “I was thinking this one.”

Jeeves nodded, "It will do."

Jeeves and Aric watched as Strahd walked into the piano room, Linda curiously lingering on the corner of the hall.

Aric closed the door to the room, and Jeeves began to scout it. Bed, dresser, mirror... window... bat?

Aric looked up at the corner above the bed, and saw a very tiny bat resting in the corner. It was hardly noticeable... but it was certainly there, watching him-

No, it was cleaning its own face.

"So... a bat..." Jeeves looked up to it and crossed his arms.

Aric knew of vampires’ affinity for bats. Not wanting to take chances, he switched to Alzhedo, "You ever get the feeling you’re being watched?"

Jeeves nodded and responded in turn, “You think this is insurance of some kind?” He tilted his head toward the bat.

Aric was cautious, "Maybe. Best to just be aware of it for now. As far as anyone knows, we speak this language when we are alone."

Jeeves nodded and crawled on the bed, "Of course,” he took off his boots, “So, impressions on this vampire fellow?"

"As much as he told us, we still don't really know him,” Aric crawled on the bed and stood, “But he does seem to want things to change. If nothing else he is our best lead to getting the rings and returning home. At best, I can say I don't distrust him..."

Aric reached out and coaxed the tiny bat into his hand. It nestled its head in his hand. Aric mused, sitting down and petting the bat with the barest touch, "You seem friendly..."

Jeeves looked to the bat and back to Aric, "He hasn't made any overt or threatening gestures. I suppose we should compile what we know, or think we know about Vampires. Worst case scenario, we use those weaknesses against him. Or best case, we tailor our knowledge so that his weaknesses don't hinder us either...” Jeeves paused, “There is also that charm we need to get from Luvash in regards to your... condition."

Aric paused in his petting of the bat, "Yes, my... condition,” he looked to Jeeves, “Luvash said it would be ready tomorrow correct?”

Jeeves nodded. Aric refocused on the previous conversation, “As for Strahd... we know that holy symbol hurt him, but he can apparently set foot in a church... those things seem to contradict each other."

Jeeves agreed, "Completely contradictory. Also... walking in daytime... How do you think that is possible?"

Aric was grim, "He may be more powerful than we realize..."

Aric thought back to everything they had observed Vasili doing... the smoking... He realized then that it was a cleverly designed spell. Vasili only smoked before stepping on holy ground, and when confronted with the holy bones of St. Andral... each time it was dismissed as being his “nerves...”

Aric did give him credit... It would have been impossible for them to discover that it was a spell without knowing that Vasili was actually Strahd in disguise... However, the issue of walking in broad daylight was even more troubling, and he had no idea how any vampire could do that... Aric came to a realization...

Whatever Strahd was, he was far more powerful than any ordinary vampire.

Jeeves brought him out of his thoughts, "Aren't vampires already powerful? How much more power are we talking?”

"A vampire that can walk in daylight must be extremely powerful,” he admitted, “We also don't know how old he really is. I don't know much else about vampires... or werewolves for that matter, I need more information before coming to any conclusions."

Jeeves nodded and thought back to the conversation with Strahd, "Perhaps we can speak with that Linda person. She is knowledgeable about monsters. Her insight may be helpful. We should use any resource we have."

"True,” Aric nodded, “We will ask her after Strahd returns to his study and we are alone."

"An excellent suggestion, Lord Aric..." Jeeves paused, looking at the bat in Aric’s hand, "Can I have a turn petting the bat?"

Aric handed the bat over to Jeeves. Jeeves pet the tiny creature, asking, "Do you think the dog down there is really a dog? It looked like a wolf... but everyone was insistent it was a dog... Vampires have affinity for wolves, right? Wolves, bats, rats, bugs... Eh, I suppose as long as there is no rats or roaches in this place I will be fine..."

--------------------------

Strahd let the guise of Vasili fall, no longer putting on the act, the masquerade of humanity. With Ireena and Ismark on the first floor, Victor resting in the living room, Aric and Jeeves in their room, and Linda in the master...

Why not indulge?

He removed the gloves from his hands and folded them into his pocket, before sitting down at the piano bench. He lifted the protective wood slat off of the keys, revealing the ebony and ivory underneath. His hands reached out to their positions...

He had no song in mind. He had no wish to perform either. Just to take a moment and create something... Just notes, a simple melody... a few harmonies...

Linda peered around the corner, watching Strahd play. She felt herself drawn to the simple chords, the somber melody... Melancholy, with a slight twinge of hope...

She felt herself twitch her fingers, greedily wanting to play as well...

Strahd finished his song, holding down the pedal and letting the final notes ring out...

Linda breathed in and walked into the piano room. Strahd paused, and turned to look at the intrusion.

Linda paused in her approach, then gently gestured to the piano, “May I?” she spoke quietly.

Strahd looked to her. He moved over on the bench to make room for her, "Of course, be my guest.” He paused and moved his cloak out of the way, “You did say that you enjoyed piano... didn't you?"

She nodded and slid into the seat next to him. She stretched her hands, and wiggled her fingers... She relaxed her hands over the keys, and rested her fingers...

Notes fell from her fingers, as she began to test her memory of how to play. It had been years since she played. Slowly, gently... like a lullaby.

Strahd listened carefully, leaning forward to watch her play. She was lost in it... as if she were letting the music guide her.

She overreached, brushing against his arm. Strahd was startled by the unexpected touch. Linda awoke from her trance and retreated her hand, flushing in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away,“ she blurted.

"It's alright. I was enjoying the music,” Strahd reassured. “I'll give you more room..." He retreated his hands into his lap.

Linda nodded, and put her hands back on the keys... She would play a song from her childhood... something she could remember.

Strahd watched her play. It wasn’t the same euphoric trance that she had earlier... her notes seemed to be missing something...

Not one to leave something incomplete, Strahd marked the pattern she played in and the key... then played chords to compliment her...

“You know the song already?” Linda questioned, still playing, “That's part of the other player's part."

"I was just playing what sounded appropriate...” Strahd paused, “I used to be a virtuoso on this instrument. Do you know the part I should be playing?"

"I do. Here.." Linda paused to teach him the pattern of the notes.

Strahd echoed her notes and dutifully played the part. Linda returned to playing the melody, smiling, "Now the piece is whole..."

Strahd and Linda played the piece to completion, letting the final notes linger in the air, both reluctant to end the small joy of playing music.

Strahd nodded to himself in satisfaction, and looked to the woman sitting at his side, "Thank you. That was enjoyable...”

A new feeling gripped him as he looked at Linda’s features. The strange look in her eyes as she held his gaze just a little too long...

He stood, “Now, I ought to let you rest. I will retire to my study. I have to make sure affairs are in order before we leave tomorrow," he bowed his head respectfully.

Linda smiled at him with closed lips and nodded her head. She stood, “I enjoyed playing as well...”

They stared at each other just a moment longer, before Strahd turned and walked slowly down the stairs... Linda watched him leave, before turning herself, and walking back toward the master...

But Jeeves looked out of his room at Linda, expectantly.

Linda raised a brow. Jeeves silently gestured for her to come to the room. She sighed and walked over to him, “Yes?”

Aric poked his head out from around the corner, speaking in the Cant, "If I remember correctly, you know Thieves Cant?"

She spoke dryly in the same, "You remember correctly."

Aric looked to Jeeves holding the bat, and back to Linda. Linda looked at the bat in confusion, before shaking her head and walking fully into the room.

"Forgive us, but we are in need of your expertise,” Aric explained, “We don't know as much about vampires and werewolves as we would like, and were hoping you might help us. Also, forgive the caution, we found this guy-” he pointed to the bat, “-and, well, in our line of work, being distrustful keeps us alive a little longer..."

Jeeves pet the bat, “He’s cute, though.”

Linda nodded, "I completely understand. What did you want to know? I have a great deal of knowledge on those creatures in particular."

Aric paused, "I guess to start with, could this guy be used to spy on us?” he pointed to the bat.

Linda nodded, "Yes, he can be used to spy on us, but it has to be consciously done. Much like a wizard's familiar.”

Aric took note, “Secondly, I figured that the 'smoking' habit is some spell that allows Strahd to walk into churches and such.. but how does he walk in daylight?"

Linda paused. Aric had a point, and it was a concerning one to her, “I'm not quite sure of the walking in daylight,” she admitted, “Vampires shouldn't be able to, though it has been shown that as vampires age they lose their aversions... though no record has been made of any that could withstand sunlight- and there are vampires that are thousands of years old.”

Linda wrinkled her face, "So either he is older than that... or has come up with another spell for it, like being able to set foot on holy ground.” She paused, “And history books say that Strahd is four hundred and twenty-eight... And is having a birthday soon, so almost four hundred and twenty-nine, which is still... not that old in terms of known vampires."

Jeeves folded his arms,"So... incredibly powerful."

"Apparently so," Aric replied.

"Unusually so," agreed Linda.

Aric paused, thinking again about his own situation, "As for werewolves,” he looked to Linda, “You may remember that I was bitten by one during our first fight. I really don't know much. Apparently, the curse doesn't fully set in until the first full moon. The medicine man, Luvash, is making a charm for me, but I feel just some general knowledge would help in this world."

Jeeves nodded, "Just want to know what to expect."

Linda looked between the two young men. She didn’t blame them for being so concerned. She held out her hand, explaining, "I know that werewolves can either shapeshift into a hybrid form on the full moon... or at will. And that they can retain their personality and awareness while transformed. That they are in full control of their actions, but are driven to hunt. Werewolves can be created by curses, from an untreated bite from a lycanthrope, or hereditarily. They have a normal human lifespan. Werewolves are weak to silver and magic... and they tend to stay in packs.Werewolves tend to avoid vampires on principal. It is possible to remove lycanthropy through a special herbal blend.That is most of what I know."

Aric listened intently. Any bit would be useful... "Thank you for all the information, you have been very helpful.”

Aric paused, “One last question though; do you trust Strahd?"

The question hit Linda like a brick. She thought about the moment she just shared with the vampire and sighed. She spoke truthfully, "I have no problem with him yet. I can't say that I trust him, but I can say that I am trying to understand him...”

She shook her head, “He drives me crazy with how shady and sketchy he is, but... I know I'm one to talk. So I kinda understand why.” She folded her arms, “I just take it in stride, if he isn't trustworthy, or betrays us...” she paused, “I'll kill him."

Regardless of her feelings... she knew how manipulative and cunning vampires were. Strahd was no exception. There is a reason no vampires get mercy calls in the field, she reminded herself...Though, part of her pained at the thought of it.

Aric nodded, “Seems we three are all in agreement then. Thank you for your time, Linda."

Linda nodded, "It's not any trouble. You boys get some rest."

She pat Aric and Jeeves on their heads and walked over to her room, letting them have privacy.

She walked over to the master, and immediately searched for Strahd’s little spy, finding a small bat in the corner of the room. She walked over and reached up, letting the bat flutter onto her hand.

She smiled and cooed as she pet it in her hand, "You're a good little sky puppy."

The bat squeaked and paused, its eyes glazed over for a brief moment... but then it continued to flutter its ears and lick its face.

Linda was well-versed in vampire capabilities. She sighed, "Ah, not so good sky puppy now. Hello, Strahd.”

Linda pet the bat in her hand anyway. The bat seemed to be surprised. Strahd’s voice came through to her head:

“You are... very attentive. I am surprised.“

Linda spoke dryly, "Well, you see. I love bats, and it seemed weird when it paused and it's little eyes glazed over. So, I knew."

Strahd’s voice replied, "Ah... apologies. I was just... skirting through each of my minions to check on things. I'll make myself scarce..."

Linda shook her head, "Well you have my attention now, and I am alone. Did you want to talk with just me?"

The bat perked its ears up.

Linda sighed, "I am sorry that we confronted you like we did,” she looked to the bat, “But it had to be done. I just didn't want it to be so... open. It's not my place to reveal your secret."

She had no idea why she was telling him that... Perhaps she just wanted him to trust her more... But the truth was that she couldn’t hold on to her anger at him. Even though everyone, and especially she had good reason to...

The bat blinked, "I... appreciated it not being open, but I am... admittedly uneasy at everyone's... lack of a reaction to my confessions.” He explained, “I have... nothing to go off of, as far as expectation. To have everyone act as if nothing happened... and then be friendly towards me, when others have tried to destroy me or plant a stake in my heart...” He paused, “Admittedly, this... calm... Is more alarming to me than outright anger or shouting, which is what I expected."

"Sorry to burst your bubble,” Linda chuckled, “We aren't exactly like most people...”

She opened up to him, “I’d like to explain myself a bit more. I'm not just a monster hunter. I'm closer to a bounty hunter like Mina. I just got really good at tracking down vampires and werewolves, so that is what I was hired to do. And I don't do it to just to hunt and kill. I don’t kill the misunderstood. Those I protect and help. So... I'm helping you.”

She hid the fact that she was the leader of a monster hunting order from him. He didn’t need to know... She looked at the bat examining her curiously.

She blushed, “What, I'm trying to say is. You haven't done anything to make me sway one way or the other... Sure, you are said to be this devil, this monster, but all I've seen is just a man.”

She pet the bat more, “One that frustrates me because you go from making threats, and being suspicious of me, to playing the piano with me. So.. I am just going to continue to observe you and try to find Timothy. And maybe find out how I can help you while I'm here."

The bat’s ears twitched, "I suppose that is fair. Do you... have any questions of me that you weren't able to ask, or were uncomfortable asking in the presence of the young lord and his... manservant?"

Linda nodded, seriously, "How do you go onto holy ground, and go out in sunlight? Also,” she pursed her lips, “is it really coming up on your birthday?"

Strahd paused, weighing whether or not to trust her...

"I made a spell very early into my vampirism that would allow me to bypass the holy auras for a short period of time.” He revealed, “Over time, I have gotten really adept at disguising magic work as simple gestures or habits. Because that spell requires a certain bastard incense burned... I turned it into a smoking habit. As for being able to walk in sunlight...”

The bat locked eyes with her, “I made an artifact that absorbed my damage from sunlight. It is stored in Castle Ravenloft... but it is more of a relic now. I no longer need it to walk in the sun... so now its use is just to absorb some damage that I take from battle.”

Strahd seemed to sigh, “And yes, my birthday is on the seventeenth, four days from now. I do not usually celebrate it, but rather mark it, as it is a day where I grow more powerful, or lose a weakness."

Linda blinked, stunned, "I didn't expect a straight answer, though I appreciate it,” she regarded him curiously, “So are you really just turning four hundred and twenty-nine? How can you do things that vampires way older than you can't do?"

The bat tilted its head, "It may have something to do with the fact that... I am...” his voice paused, hesitating, “...The First Vampire..."

Linda furrowed her brows. It didn’t make sense, "You are the first. But not the oldest... how?"

"Nine Hells if I know...” He listed his facts, “I know that I made the term, I created others like me... accidentally...” He added, “But I know that time is... off here. I have had visitors from the same world claim that it was different dates, centuries apart when they arrived. I can only assume Barovia's time is independent from your world or others... and that the Mists do as they please to bring in visitors."

Linda made a face of deep thought, "So you actually have no idea how old you are outside of Barovia's timeline.... you could be centuries older if you lived in my world.” She blinked, “Speaking of... what world are we in?"

"I forget the name of the world Barovia was once a part of. Only that it now rests in the Shadowfell because of my dark pact with Death."

Linda was shocked, "The Shadowfell.... we should not exist right now."

Very few who ever ventured into the Shadowfell ever returned... or came back utterly insane from the experience.

"And yet, here we are...” Strahd replied, “There are others like Barovia. All of them ruled by a creature of darkness."

Linda thought back to the journals, "What about this Death? Do the other rulers also have pacts or is that not something you could know?"

The bat blinked and paused, "As far as I am aware, I am the only one who has made a pact with Death... or the Dark Powers that rule the Shadowfell. Others were simply brought here. Not only was I the First Vampire, but Barovia was the first... Dread Realm of the Shadowfell. There was a point where entire nations merged themselves to Barovia's border, but I went through great pains to separate them."

"So are these Dark Powers what keep you from leaving? They control everything?"

The bat folded its ears back, nodding, "They are the wardens to my prison. I have some influence over the Mists, yes, but the Dark Powers ultimately decide what crosses my borders. Only the Vistani can freely travel. Their people weave an old magic I have yet to understand."

Linda raised a brow, "Have you thought about killing the Dark Powers?"

The bat’s eyes widened, "Does one normally entertain thoughts of killing godlike beings?!"

Linda nodded, "It's happened before. Some of the gods in Faerun have been killed."

The bat seemed stunned, "Then... it is a possibility? That sounds like good news, but also blasphemy. In which case, as a blasphemous creature, I am open to...” he mused, “But I don't know how one would go about challenging a god, much less actually destroying one."

Linda offered, "I can do some research into how the gods were killed where I'm from."

"In any case, it is an interesting idea, and one I haven't tried yet...” His voice seemed skeptical and uncertain, “It is something to think about.” He had the bat look up to Linda, “I think I will let this poor creature go, and let you rest."

Linda watched as the bat’s eyes glazed over again, and Strahd’s presence left the creature. She put it back in the top corner of the room and slunk into the bed, dimming the candlelight to rest.

#story update #curse of strahd #linda tacklemeyer #aric rein #ruki von holtz #writing #d&d #long post

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spoopysammymoose · 6 years

Text

So... my tiefling character is deciding to act out like a teenager, since she never really had the chance growing up...

DM: The chapel seems to still be a wreck, rubble is strewn about and the pillars still show damage from Argynvost's assault. But the stained glass has been replaced and repaired. On it a stunning depiction of Tatanya ascending into the sky. Sergei is there but an ugly smear of red obscures his image, the red runs down to the frame. In the distance Ithil can hear the sound of an organ.

Ithil: In the back of her mind, Ithil wonders who would have had this made, as she was sure Strahd would not have had Sergei included at all. She looks for a moment at the image of Tatanya with a smile, glad that she really was gone from this place. Ithil continues on, heading towards the sound of the organ.

DM: The organ music gets louder as she wanders down the main corridor leading to the front door. The music seems to flow from an open door to the left, a decayed dining hall last you knew. The music is somber but fast, like a melancholy waltz.

Ithil: She continues to head towards the sound, having not heard this sort of music before. It was.... sad... but deep and beautiful.

DM: You walk past the main junction without incident, the grand stair case lies empty and the front door is closed tight. You stand before the room with the music, the doors closed. You can smell the sickening mix of delicious food, rot, and dust.

Ithil: Ithil goes towards the doors, pausing with her hand near the handle for a moment before opening it. She opens it slowly, not wanting to disturb the sanctity of the playing.

DM: The music washes over you, making you feel almost warm. But that warmth is quickly replaced by a chill of fear as your eyes unwrap the scene before you. The table is set for a small dinner, five figures sit at the table in various states of decay, their dinner rotting before them. The candles of the table are brightly lit, illuminating their demise. One was speared by an arrow through the eye. Another seems to have had their heart ripped out. A third lies face first in a bowl. A forth lies chained to their chair, their whole figure wilted and thin. and a fifth still struggles in their chair. Iron straps bind him to the chair. At the head of the table a figure sits with his back to you, his black cape hiding much of his figure. He plays the organ with vigor, pouring his whole body into the music. The music ends with a flourish of his hands, leaving you in deafening silence. For a moment, all is still, then with a sweep of his cape he stands and turns to you. His face contorted in fury. Strahd Von Zarovich.

Ithil: Having been noticed, she feels her mouth break into a nervous grin and she fully enters the room, looking around at the gore. "Love what you've done with the place..."

DM: His face seems to calm a bit, and he silently walks to his bound prisoner, placing his hands on the vampire's shoulders. "Much has changed about this place, but it seems your meddling has not, Ithil." "My servants lie dead and a soon to be bride has gone missing, I can only assume your hand was the cause of this." You notice despite his calm voice and inviting expression, his nails dig deep into the vampires shoulders.

Ithil: Her smile brightens and she begins to shrug off her layers of cloaks onto a nearby chair. She gives a bit of a shrug and finds a bit of the table to lean on. "Ah, it seems you do know my name afterall. We never really talked the last time that I was here." She studied the wall a bit. "At that time though I'll admit I was quite a bit weaker and stupid... well, you could say I'm stupid for being where I am right now after what I've done but.... I don't regret it." Ithil's eyes wander over to the organ. "You play beautifully, that was something I did not know."

DM: Strahd: "I make a point of learning all about those that have killed me. As for your intelligence I can only assume you're cunning, at best, an imbecile at worst. Whether luck or skill has influenced your deeds, only time will tell." He glances at the discarded cloaks with a disinterested gaze. "The music is something I have been working on for years now, a tribute to Tatanya. But I fear it will never be perfect."

Ithil: Her eyebrow raises at that. "Music will never be perfect, as nothing ever is, but we take things as they are and enjoy them while we can. So... you really did love her." She pauses for a heavy moment. "I don't blame you for that, I was even moved when her soul appeared. She was beautiful and gentle... I wish I had known her. We knew Ireena but... she was definitely different."

DM: "She, WAS perfect. The music, and Ireena were only a pale reflection. As well as Marina, Vela, and the rest." He releases the vampires shoulders, leaving deep claw marks. "She was mine, and mine alone. And you took her from me; for that I will destroy you piece by piece." He looks up at you, anger deep in his eyes. "But you know that, so why are you here? Have you given up all hope of escape this time? Surely you would at least put up a fight."

Ithil: She hisses, her own claws digging into the table and her eyes snapping over to him. "Don't think me a coward or a lunatic! For those I am neither. You would be gravely mistaken if you think I am not holding back fear or a desire to start firing off my spells. Those are natural impulses and I could definitely entertain you with a fight if you wanted. But I am not here for that." She takes the Staff of Power and throws it next to her cloaks. "Fighting you on my own would be an instant death, though apparently many of your servants were not so much of a challenge." Ithil actually laughs out loud. "The one in the dungeons mocking the wizard with the one he had killed, he was already seized by the prisoner by the time I showed up and I stood right in the open. He didn't even see me there." She steps away from the table and crosses her arms, a snarl still on her face. "My original plans were only to help my party's friend when I came here, however I got tripped up on how many innocents had already been captured by this place. If I let them be, then I likely would face elimination by my own allies." Her eyes close for a brief moment and she attempts to relax herself. "Sometimes I hate the part of me that is a demon, usually its whispers don't take hold of me so readily but this time it has. My first time being trapped here broke a major part of my teachings though I shouldn't be so surprised. I didn't have the best Master. The scars on my back are proof enough of that." Her blank eyes open once again. "But that doesn't matter, what matters to me is that because of this place, my beliefs on vampires and the undead are confused. I should hate them, but I don't. My confusion keeps leading me here."

DM: Strahd puts a hand to his chin, pondering. He slowly begins to circle the table. "So, here you stand. Weapons discarded but my servants humiliated and my play things escaped. Your teachings muddled and your curiosity... " Strahd picks up a rotten apple. "... Ravenous." Strahd lets the apple tip out of his hand, it hits the ground with a sour squish. "It is strange that Exethanther cannot quench your confusion, instead you have sought out me... your captor, your lord, your undoing. If I were a less patient man I would be satisfied with snapping your neck here and now, or even turning you, finally becoming a monster so much of the world thinks your kind was born to be. Perhaps that's what you desire..."

Ithil: Instead of revealing any form of fear or distaste, her lips curled upwards in a devilish grin. "Ah but just simply killing me now would be.... so boring." Absentmindedly, she approached the table again and began to flick something on one of the corpses. "I have sought Exethanther near three times now. The dark gods have their appeals but... even some my other half finds horrific. We recently have slain a broken man there whom had accepted every gift the gods put forth. His mind was lost, it's not something I desire. His own profession lies in necromancy, and while he amuses me, I understand him. It's the vampires I can't figure out. Escher seeming to have been completely bound to you and now out there with that other group, also being led by our lost companion." She smirks. "And to think my group hated her so for practically doing what I am now."

DM: "She was a fool, then and now. Kept safe solely by means beyond even me. Escher... " His lips curl in disgust. "A coward seeking only the lavish things he desired in life. He will rot in a prison of his own making, I will see to that." He waves his hand away, dismissing the thought, Strahd sets his eyes on Ithil gesturing at her with his outstretched hand. "Ironic that you, of all people think vampires difficult to understand while you stand defenseless before me. I struggle to understand your intentions Ithil, you argue against lunacy yet I can assure you that you will not leave my castle alive." He circles closer, lifting up the dead figure in the bowl for effect. He drops the head, its impact shattering the bowl. "Killing you outright would be terribly boring and a disgrace for how much strife you have caused me... perhaps I should have you brought before your allies and kill you there."

Ithil: She watches him, her eyes bored. "I have no intentions of fleeing either, for I know what happened last time, even though I am uncertain if Bucephalus has indeed returned to you." Her head tilts onto her shoulder, "I'd apologize for some of my previous discretions except I desired a bit of revenge. I did not have many blows against you in that final battle and I must say I carried quite a bit of anger for my last moments almost being a fish.... flying through the air." Ithil's expression becomes unamused for a moment before she shakes her head and brushes it away. "I'm willing to trade.... some information in return for some answers. Whatever you decide to do to me afterwards.... or before...." she sighs sadly, "I honestly do not care what happens to me. But I have to warn you... do not underestimate my allies." Her gaze is steady. "I spent all of last night in one of the north towers, undisturbed and left to be well-rested. Security could be... better here." Ithil holds back a small giggle. "Afterall I guess my presence here and my activities over the last day have shown some obvious weaknesses here. I don't want to be so bored."

DM: Strahd laughs. "Your life in return for an... interview? I must say I am surprised, but this has held my interest. As for the castle, most dare not venture here and those that do often have my invitation." He has finally circled around to Ithil, standing between her equipment and her. "I will tell you all you want to know Ithil and perhaps you might do a better job at defending my castle from intruders..." His eyes seem to spark, inviting you in. Give me a wisdom saving throw.

Ithil: 11

DM: The eyes fill you with peace and you feel yourself relax next to him. Strahd smirks and turns away and takes a seat at the head of the table. He steeples his fingers and looks at Ithil. "Ask me whatever you desire, Ithil."

Ithil: She blinks a couple of times, and feels inclined to walk towards him. One of her feet takes a step. "My questions may make no sense to you or any who hear them but they will satisfy my own curiosity and that is fine with me." Her bright eyes find his dark ones once again. "The soul of the one you chased. You loved her, truly, I can see that and my words mean no offense. I must ask, over the hundreds of years, did you ever try anything different from just making her one of the undead?"

DM: Strahd stares at you, his expression unreadable as he ponders the question. When he speaks it is with a grave seriousness. "I loved her truly. She could never accept me for what I am, not for the reasons that you might think. This land that is my prison and my kingdom... is against me. I attempted to court her when Berez was once prosperous... Patrina was her name then... dark hair that desperately wanted to curl but I could see the beauty within her." Strahd's gaze drifts upward, lost in the past. "The villagers feared me, so to did the Elves. I won her hand, true then, but it was not to be. The Dusk Elves, in their great wisdom, stoned her to death, to prevent me my prize I had strived so much for. They feared her a vampire." A flash of anger passes of Strahd's face "I tore their village from the earth, cursed every member, and left them to the snakes. For the Dusk Elves... they would never see a child again, as I'm sure your aware."

Ithil: Her expression remains blank except for her mouth momentarily popping open. "It's true of the curse... none of us were willing to listen before but the dark ones have been the actual source of this curse since the start. Feeding on misery and intervening to cause more of it." She almost laughed. "I see our fates were of being naïve. We deserved to be brought back here for our actions in haste." She shakes her head to stop herself from rambling on more about it, and puts a hand to her face. "Maybe things could have been different at one point, this much time having been passed if they didn't disturb the outcomes. When.... or did you actually become aware that the dark gods you made a pact with are continuing to feed off of your emotions?"

DM: Strahd gestures vaguely to the air. "I knew from the moment I became Vampyre, a stalker of the night. They are not without a sense of humor though, near the edges of Yester Hill, when the sun rises, my homeland can be seen in all its shimmering glory..." Strahd's voice becomes wistful, enjoying the sight of it in his mind. "But I know it cannot be... it lies so far away from Barovia yet its there. They must give me hope, or I am worthless to them. They are gleeful in their torment of me, I know that now."

Ithil: She cocks her head like a bird, curiosity spiking again. "Homeland? I believed Barovia to be that for you." A couple more thoughts came to mind. "And it seems they have given you a few more things to chase, with the hag and that soldier that I've heard have been causing problems."

DM: "No, I came to this land as a conqueror, dispelling my enemies as easily as I do now. Armies fell before my might and they fled to this place. After their slaughter I made it my home." Strahd cocks his head at mention of the hag and soldier. "I created them, dragged to Barovia through hubris and theft. Without strife, the Dark Powers would discard me." "A queen sent her armies to me, now they wallow in this land, slowly being whittled away, day by day, year by year."

Ithil: Ithil nods. "Her I met, angry woman, very rash. I didn't much care for her." She waved her hand, "Anyways she's not too important herself.... So the gods would discard you? How would that take place?"

DM: Strahd smiles. "I'm afraid that information is beyond even me. The gods are ever mysterious and cruel. For all I know they plot me another bride."

Ithil: She looks down at her hands. "I have no more to ask, I thought I was confused when in fact I was merely lacking very basic information in the first place." Her shoulders begin to shake, but when she looks up, she is just laughing with tears stinging at her eyes. "The world of people, of humans, I should have stayed well away from it. The jester gave me hope but he was just like the others, gone, whenever I needed him the most. 10 years of looking. I guess in perspective of time that's nothing. 10 years of trying to do good and I manage to continue to jump blindly into situations without weighing out all sides of them. Meant to hate you while we support Exethanther as he hunts down humans to use in his own projects. Killing a Beholder that was trying to run a government by controlling people but unleashing riots that may have killed more people than we tried to save. Last time I was here, I personally turned over the wizard that helped us during the battle to the lich..." Ithil's voice trails off. "I deserve this fate laid before me, this much I know and I accept it." Her face turns to him. "I think I know why I couldn't seem to leave this place." She wouldn't let her face betray it, but despite all that she said and all that her mind tried to scream at her, she felt bad for this monster in front of her, though perhaps it was merely a side-effect of the charm.

DM: The monster in front of her smiled, humored by Ithil's ramblings. He rises from his chair and begins to approach her, calm and confident. "You need not bother worrying about the past, the adventures you've had, the people who have suffered, it doesn't matter. This land is a land of trades, what you get you must sacrifice for. You have done so much for this world and its people. It's time to start doing things for yourself. " Strahd brushes the hair from Ithil's forhead, his hand trailing to her neck. "We are not monsters, simply those cursed to rise above the weak. I offer you that gift, to rise above, Ithil. Accept my lineage..."

Ithil: She felt her body burning, from embarrassment at the closeness of the vampire and anger at herself for all the thoughts that crossed her mind. Every ounce of sense left in her mind screamed at her to run, back away, just say no. But none of that was what bubbled to the surface. Ithil wanted an escape, even if it was mostly from herself. "Y....yes....." With those words she couldn't bear to look at him, she had fallen to exactly what he wanted.

DM: Strahd leans in close, his presence like ice. He can feel her heart beating faster as he pulls her closer into his embrace. The hold is gentle, for there is no escape now. He brushes the hair away from her neck, savoring the moment of victory. His fangs sink into Ithil's neck with ease and a faint tremble runs through her. Heat rises within Ithil as her blood is drained away, her senses fading. The room seems to spin, the rotting feast, the dead guests, the restrained vampire, all a blur. Darkness tinges her vision but before she faded she felt dripping on her lips, blood, from Strahd's wrist. He had stopped drinking and she had not even noticed. Her last image before her vision fades is Strahd's cold eyes and his smile, as blood runs down his mouth.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #curse of strahd #strahd #strahd von zarovich #vampire #vampires #tiefling #demon #devil #barovia #ravenloft #transformation #turn #bite #turned

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