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mr-leach · 2 years ago

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Curse of Strahd Ask Meme Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Original Post by @mandisawesome

///Spoilers Ahead!///

If your party hasn’t gotten the Tome of Strahd item yet or had a chance to learn why Strahd is so obsessed with a certain NPC, and you’re worried about spoilers, you might want to skip this post!

Question 4: Did your DM make any major changes to the module?

Yes! Well, some major, some minor. Aside from maybe making the encounters less brutally punishing, here’s what @inertia-raptor changed or added:

From what I understand, a few DMs have decided to switch the roles of the Kolyanovich siblings, including ours. This is my first time playing the module so I can’t say for certain just how different it makes things, aside from making it a little more explicitly queer from the outset, and maybe determining which sibling you spend the most time interacting with at certain points. All I can say is I’ve grown very attached to our awkward little wizard Ismark, and I certainly hope he continues to manage to avoid his creepy vampire stalker.

So in order to sail past any of the potentially problematic implications surrounding the whole Vistani thing, our DM just decided to...not include the Vistani. Now there is a clan of Tabaxi that is more or less on neutral terms with Strahd. We’re also pretty firmly in the camp of ��tabaxi/catfolk are allowed to look like domestic cats if you want” which means that these tabaxi absolutely resemble domestic cats, and sometimes our actual pets will make cameos. It’s great.

Not all of the Tabaxi clan members in our game are catfolk--some are human/humanoid--but they are very much included among the Barovian Tabaxi clan that are permitted to traverse in and out of the mists, and sometimes work closely with Strahd. Inversely, a tabaxi from outside of this particular clan might get treated more nicely than adventurers other races if they were to end up in Barovia, but they’d kinda have to prove they were loyal to Strahd first if they wanted the same privileges as the native clan.

Significant NPCS that were written into the campaign:

Our DM wrote in a few OCs that have had a significant part to play in the game so far, and go beyond just fleshing out existing enemies or NPCs:

Carden is one of those NPCs that was probably meant to be more for background flavour, but then our PCs got so damnged attached to him...We just can’t do anything in Vallaki without checking in on our good buddy Carden at least once. He’s been in Barovia 50 years now (and sadly left behind a human partner on the other side of the mists) and even though he can be a little scatterbrained, still has a good deal of knowledge about vampires, Strahd, and Vallaki that has been really helpful.

So Sylras is our designated ally and we could not be happier to have them. When Carden fucked them up and couldn’t get Tatyana’s soul to bind to them, he made sure to have them given some kind of combat training before being made to send them to Castle Ravenloft, but he unfortunately didn’t think it was possible to teach Sylras how to express or even feel emotions. It kind of actually protected them from Strahd to some extent...they were still a failure in his eyes, but at least having no emotional response made tormenting them feel pointless (which is exactly as fucked up as it sounds).

Which is why we may have fucked up big time! Being with us and being treated like their own person has actually been making a difference in how they see themself and how they feel about Strahd and the way he treats people. So far we’ve taught them hatred, anxiety, betrayal, fear, self-doubt...we’re working on the nice emotions, alright!? It’s not easy when you’re in Barovia. Anyway Strahd apparently thinks that this is hilarious. Turns out, the more we rehabilitate Sylras, the more appealing they are as a target for Strahd to mess with. Whoops!!!

Thankfully we all love Sylras a lot and are ride or die for them which means we will absolutely do whatever it takes to protect them (so long as they don’t run head first into battle without telling us again nO WAIT SYLRAS STOP WHERE ARE YOU GOING--)

Baby boy...baby... When I decided to play as Sy for the campaign, I told Malcolm that he could incorporate Joshua into the story however he liked if he wanted to, and man, did he ever deliver. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but the result has been a heart wrenching motivator not just for my PC, but for the entire party.

Poor Joshua was studying away from home to become a bard and wanted to surprise his dad with a visit when the mists arrived to bring him to Barovia. Strahd manipulated Joshua’s situation, putting him in mortal danger and then “saving” him by turning him into his spawn, then convinced him that Ravenloft was the only safe place for him to live in Barovia (not entirely untrue but...come on, dude, Barovia’s only unsafe because of you). Joshua thought of him like a kind saviour, and it was easy for Strahd to convince him to become one of his consorts. Strahd hasn’t made any sexual advances towards Joshua (yet???) and has told Sy that he wants to “preserve Joshua’s purity for as long as possible” which has easily got to be one of the creepiest things a middle aged ass looking dude can say to you about your kid.

Sy kinda had no choice but to leave Joshua at Castle Ravenloft even after their heartfelt reunion, but they still exchange letters. I write Sy’s letters in an adventure diary channel in our game’s discord server, and then me and DM discuss how Joshua would be able to respond and what sort of twist Strahd would give certain events to skew his perspective, which has been a fun/interesting bit of side story to have going on in the background of the main action.

Other changes:

Adventurers love their naked bonding time, and our resident geologist said it was definitely plausible for someone to have discovered a geothermal spring somewhere in Barovia! So the story is, when Carden was setting up his alchemy shop, he was digging a well and...well. The hot spring was pretty useful for him as an alchemist, and his druidic knowledge of herbs and natural remedies meant that he could maintain a decent side business selling soaps, bath salts, and other bath related luxuries, so he went ahead and built a number of pools and facilities as a sort of side business.

Our party has made use of the hot springs several times, but for some reason, we always seem to ruin the relaxation with depressing discussion topics, stressful revelations, or...you know...not noticing one of the party members was actually absent, and the person who had been bathing with us for the past hour was actually Strahd in disguise. That was. A time.

I’ll be able to go into this more in a later post, but one more neat change our DM has made is that he set up a whole masquerade ball for us to go through, which was so much fun! He definitely put a lot of hard work and preparation into it, and we ended up playing several sessions of it, it was so eventful lol. For now, though, I think I’ll end this post, since it’s gotten pretty long! Hopefully it was a fun read, at least lol.

#dnd #d&d #curse of strahd #mandisawesome #inertia-raptor #dnd oc #friend oc #strahd meme #joshua hawthorne #carden #sylras #ismark kolyanovich #ireena kolyanovich #tabaxi #marta #victor #cat mather #art

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lycantripuwu · 8 months ago

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Session updates!!

We killed the night hag coven, Ezmerelda found Van Richten, we had a party at the vistani camp, romance and we prevented an undead attack on Vallaki.

-So after being harrassed in the woods by the night hags, we brought Ez to Van Richten and safe to say he is NOT happy with Mirre. -Van Richten was able to save Myrtle's from Anastrasya's experiment and her declining health with a greater restoration. He, Mirre and Ez had a little monster hunter group investigation of this poor little girl.

-They found marks carved into Myrtles back, three connecting symbols, one in abyssal, one in infernal and one symbol Mirre recognized from his hunters bane ritual. The three determined Anastrasya is trying to make the perfect child spawn to be a mother to.

-The only way Anastrsya could have gotten this information about the Hunter's bane is through Mirre's mentor, who we now know for sure was killed by her. Mirre has his target.

-Ez stays back with Richten, after Mirre invites her to the Vistani party and gives her a little jewelry piece to put in her hair. Which she gives him a kiss on the cheek and puts it in her hair almost immediately.

-We get back to the church to find Strahd standing outside it unable to get in because of the barrier. Mirre asks her to return Reek(Who was taken by Anastrasya and is at Ravenloft.)

-Strahd asks him if he is accusing her wife of breaking the law(Theft of the orphans), Which Mirre says yes. Amused, Strahd says she will set up a court case after the dinner and ball. She then leaves after eyeing Rhil.

-we informed Ireena what all happened while we were gone and we rest.

-Victor contacts Mirre with sending saying he had a plan to get Stella out of the Etheral plane. But we need to get a heartstone from the night hags in order to complete the ritual.

-The party plans their attack, Fiona Wachter agrees to help us knowing its a chance to save Stella. She has a method in trapping the hags on the material plane so we can swoop in and finish the hags.

-Mirre invites Ez along. Mirre, Rhil, Jace, Ez, Victor and Fiona move out to enact their attack.

-We make it to the windmill and set up the trapping circle after Mirre, Ez and Majesto sneak into the windmill to steal the contract with the hags true names on it. They are successful!

-a huge fight happens! Victor is invisible for most the fight. lots of back and forth with Rhil chasing Morgantha around in her umbral state(A gift from Pandoryum)

-The hags transform into their "Nightmare forms" and one shot Mirre, Jace and Ez. Ez nearly dies in the jaws of one of them and Mirre is able to get back up with a nat 20 and get to her in time. Rhil is able to stay up and keep Jace alive.

-The hags realize they cant escape into the ethereal plane and Victor counter spells their lair action dispel magic, they attempt to bargin with the party with "ancient knowledge"

-Mirre notices they are all linked, and have the same health pool and declines them, telling the party to hit them hard with everything they have left.

-We win with Ez getting the final shot on Morgantha.

-Rhil and Jace quickly gather the heart stones and whatever else they can from the windmill.

-Ez ran over to Mirre and hugged him, Mirre leaned down and kissed her in response. She kissed him back!!

-we burnt down the windmill with Mirre's hellhounds and got the hell out of there.

-Victor informed us he would need time to set up the ritual with Fiona's help in order to jump into the ethereal plane save Stella.

-We head off to the vistani party to celebrate our victory!

#dnd #ttrpg #dungeons and dungeons #curse of strahd #rhil darkstar #mirre uldras #jace brightcrest #ezmerelda d'avenir #night hags

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rosexknight · 2 years ago

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CURSE OF STRAHD SESSION 18 TONIGHT AT 9PMCST!!

Last session we went to the Vistani camp south of Vallaki, rescued a Vistani girl named Arabelle from the monster of Lake Zarovich. We also met Kassimir the Dusk Elf, and learned of a mysterious place called The Amber Temple. Now we find ourselves back in Vallaki. Hopefully, we can find this wedding dress and get the hell out.

All roads lead to Vallaki, I guess.

Would love for y'all to come watch us tonight~!

https://www.twitch.tv/metaisfutile/ Promo image by fellow player @/zenaquaria

#dnd #dnd stream #stream promo #dnd sream promo #curse of strahd #cos #tmif

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kidheart · 1 year ago

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Inktober Ravenloft 29 - Witch

After waking up in a Vistani camp after having escaped the Lady of Ravens, Duke remembers he's been separated from Heart. He's also injured, having had his wing clipped while he was a raven. In the camp he meets a non-Vistani woman, who tends to his wounds. He grows to know her as Granny, a witch separated from her family. In Duke’s time of regret and frustration, she tries to assure him that there is a spark in him that will guide him to his beloved. His scars are proof of how he's endured before. Then she gives him some soup to help him rest and heal to give him a boost of strength.

#duke l'orange #inktober #dungeons and dragons #ravenloft

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petalpierrot · 1 year ago

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Festival Updates

So the party arrives back at the Vistani camp and rests there for a day. The next day the camp is busy and Eidys asks the children if there is some sort of celebration.

They inform her it's the "Feast of the Moon" (basically a Hallow's Eve/Harvest festival/Day of the Dead amalgamation)

the kids show off their costumes to Eidys and she compliments them.

The Vistani are setting stalls outside the city gates. They are not allowed within city gates even during the celebration because the current Baron is mistrustful of them (something the party aims to fix) older Vistani mention that this was not always the case and that there was a time when they were allowed to set up stalls within the city, and the citizens were more trusting. But with the current Baron's influence, the citizens are wary.

This celebration is a longstanding tradition (so in a sense it's meant to also celebrate commerce and be actually fun)

As promised Baron Vargas has sent an invitation to Eidys to be his guest of honor at the festival (because she previously aided him with a personal matter)

Eidys suggests to the party that they could participate in the festivities, as a change of pace and a way to cheer up

The party agrees to this and after breakfast, they depart for Vallaki.

The party passes a darts game stall and Dris (who is SURPRISINGLY amazing at darts, like I expected him to be good but damn he blew it out of the park with the 20s and 30s to hit with 12 and 14/DCS) wins Ireena three prizes (The prizes are plush dolls of the party, Ireena picks a doll of herself, the party cleric (Veshen) and ranger (Dris) )

Veshen was low-key being a wingman for that confidence boost to him with guidance

Ireena even gives him a thankful kiss on the cheek (Strahd don't look)

Next Eidys is looking into making purchases for the upcoming Dinner with Strahd, so she goes to look at the cloth and clothing vendor.

The Seamstress inquires about if she is going to dine with the baron, but Eidys is being a bit more discreet and only tells the seamstress that the dinner is with Lord Strahd once she takes the party into her shop the "Sew and Tell". The Seamstress is very concerned by this and does her best to accommodate Eidys and the other ladies of the party.

The Seamstress introduces herself as Kala and comments that the city does not see many elves, aside from Rahadin

Eidys comments that he is rather tall (Rahadin is 6'5 in our game, so 6'0 Eidys seems smaller in comparison.)

Kala asks if Eidys is a woman of faith, and Eidys replies that she isn't overly religious but Sehanine Moonbow is one of the god's moon elves worship as well as a few others. (she is intelligent enough to realize that Angharradh isn't an amalgamation goddess even if some moon elves believe that she is)

I will eventually need to find the energy to make basic references for what everyone's suits and dresses look like but I have a basic idea of what everyone's attire looks like.

Eidys chose this: Dress

Briel (Druid) chose this Dress

Veshen chose this suit

For Dris (ranger) I just need to design one.

Ireena we haven't decided yet but perhaps next session.

The druid disapproves of the ranger not saying anything when Ireena was showing off a dress she was considering (to be fair, he is a male drow and doesn't think it's his place to comment)

Eventually, Rahadin also shows up, seemingly also commissioning some clothes for the dinner. he becomes a bit flustered when he spots Eidys, complimenting her in the dress.

Eidys thanks him with a slight blush. (these two are so cute I died)

Rahadin asks if he should wait outside until they are finished but Eidys tells him that none of them mind so he is free to stay.

Rahadin takes his place in one of the waiting chairs (DM described it as one of those chairs spouses sit in as they wait for their significant others to be done in the dressing rooms)

We had to end the session there but next week there's gonna be a dunk tank and more festival shenanigans.

#curse of strahd #alek rambles #Rahadin and Eidys are killing me

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ravenloftian · 1 year ago

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On the Way to Marais d' Tarascon

November 12, Y356 (Game session 8/19/2023)

After discovering the mauled acolyte at Sir Ranceval's Feast, the abbey's clergy decides to investigate neighboring Marais d'Tarascon. Before dawn, Sir Brandak sends two groups on separate missions. Percival Donner and Costi Negrescu head to the village of Corbeanu near the Menagerie due to reports of marauding orcs. At the same time, Marcus Vossmeyer and Valeriu Vodalescu are summoned to investigate Marais d'Tarascon.

With gear in tow, Marcus and Valeriu meet Inigo, Talia's father, at the docks. Inigo teaches them to assemble a log raft and guides them to the ancient stone circle, said to be halfway to Marais. Here, they spot a peculiar blue butterfly among the stones.

A fierce storm brews as they proceed, shrouding them in thick mist. It becomes evident they're lost. At sunset, they pull the raft ashore and camp without fire due to the lack of tinder. Night falls, enveloping the swamp in darkness, a clammy fog rises, and eerie silence prevails.

During Marcus' watch, they are attacked by a creature of nightmares–an incorporeal vampiric mist. The Crimson Jenny rises from the darkened swamp, using foggy tendrils to drain the characters' blood. The entity feeds on them repeatedly before taking on the corporeal form of a beautiful woman. In this form, the paladisn can strike true. Turning proves ineffectual.

After seemingly defeating her, the mist splits to create another entity. They defend themselves, waiting for it to take physical form before destroying it.

After a quick repast, the party sets off at dawn.

The following day is gloomy and overcast, with gray mist and clouds. The sun has not appeared since their departure, and the air is chilly and damp. A crocodile emerges from behind floating logs as they pole through deep water. The party rows quickly toward shore, followed by the menacing beast. The crocodile strikes and flounders, allowing the party to promptly chop it down.

As they journey, the raft glides through a labyrinth of tall reeds lurking beneath the dark, murky water. Although the fog has lifted, the surroundings remain shrouded in gloom. Above, the branches twine, creating a thick canopy that blocks sunlight. The sounds of the swamp grow louder, echoing through the trees. Unseen creatures glide beneath the water's surface among the reeds. A cacophony of croaks and ribbits erupts as if in welcome, drowning out all other sounds. Then, suddenly, the chorus falls silent.

Three colossal frogs launch an ambush on the party from the nearby reeds. They fall victim to the creatures' sticky tongues as the frogs attempt to drag them into their gaping maws. These enormous amphibians, each measuring six feet long and weighing 250 pounds, proved formidable adversaries. After several intense rounds of combat, the paladins defeat the monstrous frogs.

As the sunless, gray day stretches on, time seems to lose meaning for the party. Marais d'Tarascon remains elusive, nowhere in sight. Throughout the day, the sky darkens and churns ominously, yet not a single drop of rain falls from the brooding clouds overhead.

As night descends upon the swamp, the paladins spot a small island of dry land emerging from the stagnant waters. Illuminating the surroundings is the warm glow of a campfire situated at its heart. Within this flickering light, the paladins discern the distinct features of a gypsy wagon adorned with vibrant colors, two elderly mares, three cheerfully dressed children, and an old woman. A moment later, two men step into view. One is old and thin, the other young and strong. They settle beside the fire. Then the old man looks up, directing the gaze of his good eye upon them. The other eye is milky and blank. The man smiles and motions with his withered hand, inviting them to join their group.

Despite the numerous, often unsettling stories about the Vistani, the paladins set their apprehensions aside and approached the strangers. Determined to make the most of their charisma, they cleanse themselves of the swamp's muck and lay their sodden clothes out to dry by the fire before partaking in dinner.

In due time, they understand that the elderly gentleman who introduced himself as Scarengi is the head of this small family group. His wife, Ryana, a cheerful woman with silver hair and twinkling eyes, appears to be of a similar age. Their son, Carloni, is a robust young man with matching black hair and a stylish mustache. The three lively children belong to him.

Scarengi and his wife share that Marais dTarascon is not too far from their current location, but they caution against visiting on a night like this. Carloni says, "It's better to stay in the swamp." Scarengi refuses to divulge more, and his wife, Ryana, agrees, saying, “To speak of evil is to invite it to dinner.”

Before the stew is served, the door at the back of the wagon swings open, revealing a graceful young woman with dark, expressive eyes. She offers a shy smile and then settles herself by the fire. "This," Scarengi proudly introduces, "is my lovely daughter, Valana. She will read your fortunes."

Valana looks at each member of the party, her large, black eyes shimmering in the firelight. "The trouble started when I cast the runes for that quiet, lost young man," she explains with a hint of sadness. "Maybe it will end with another casting." She holds a flat pan filled with stone tiles in her hands and, one by one, drops them into the pan while gazing into their eyes.

"The lost one has summoned you!" Valana gasps, prompting her family to make protective gestures. "The dead will rise with the approaching storm, and you must find a way to put them to rest. If you fail, the rain will turn to blood! It will engulf you—all of you and all of Marais dTarascon."

Scarengi quickly ushers his wife and daughter back into the wagon. "No charge for your fortune," the old man hastily adds. "It's time to rest after today's adventures. Be our guests and sleep by the fire."

Carloni gathers the children and drapes himself with a cloak on the driver's seat. As the paladins settle for the night, they see Valana’s shapely form outlined in the wagon doorway. She speaks barely above a whisper, but they hear her words clearly. “Beware the madman,” she says. “Beware his blood.” Then, the door closes, and she is gone.

Tired from their exertions in the swamp, the paladins fall fast asleep cozy and peaceful by the fire.

When they wake up, there is no trace that the Vistani were ever there. No tracks, no ashes, nothing. The only evidence they have that they didn't dream of the encounter is the missing carved squirrel figurine that Val gives Valana.

All party members gain 600xp this session for excellent roleplay and defeating powerful foes.

#ravenloft #dnd #dnd 2nd ed #gothic horror #dnd campaign #alternate timeline

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barovianbitches · 1 year ago

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Vuk & Voron - Constantin Vasiliev

Trigger Warning: Blood, Death and Animal Attack

Snow swirled in a blurring haze before Constantin, obscuring all until he only had very limited visibility. The bitter winter had come again, much like it had been a year ago when the paladin had met the Vistana man who would become the closest thing he had to a family since he left his mother all those years ago. Yvan had taken him in, allowing him to stay with his roaming band whenever he wished. There were times when Constantin left, pursuing work and money to keep himself afloat, more or less refusing the overly generous offerings of the Vistana. He would not be a burden to these people more than he already thought of himself. However, he knew when he came back, they would be waiting with open arms and grand stories to tell of the months he had missed, of the sights they had seen beyond the walls of Barovia. Yvan always encouraged him to stay, to become a permanent fixture, but he never did. Yvan always said that there was a place for him at their camp.

That very same Vistana was the reason Constantin was out in the snow in the first place. Yvan had a tendency to wander, to leave briefly and return a few hours later. It was a regular thing for him. But not this time. Something was... Off, and Constantin could feel it. His friend had left in a hurry, not taking a moment to speak to the worried faces he passed. He bundled himself in his heavy winter cloak, sporting nothing but that and a lantern to light his way. Then he was gone in the blizzard.

That was several hours ago. The rest of the Vistani grew worried for him, whispering to each other about where he could have gone. It was Constantin who volunteered to locate him, despite it being the dead of night at this point. He was given the very same as Yvan left with, a cloak and a lantern, along with his hammer and regular gear. "Be safe," Starlene told him just before he left. He promised he would be back soon, with Yvan in tow.

He had kept his cool disposition this whole time but could feel worry begin to tighten at his throat as the Barovian trudged through the snow. Where could he have gone, and why?

Constantin pushed his hair out of his face, swinging his lantern in wide arcs as he tromped through the heavy snow that coated the land. “Yvan! Yvan, where are you?!” He shouted the Barovian’s gruff bark of a call muffled by the thick padding of powder across the ground.

Panic had not yet set in, but his stomach roiled with worry. Using his hammer as a walking stick, the man made his way through the woods, calling out frequently, only pausing to wipe his shaggy hair from his vision.

“Yvan! Come home, everyone worries for you!” He shouted again, trudging deeper into the woods, stepping widely to clear the snow from his path and find footing in the icy hellscape.

Silence followed, the silence of fresh snow falling and muffling all around it. The woods were dark and quiet, the tall pines stretching high above Constantin like fiendish claws. Barovian winters were cold and unforgiving, transforming an already monstrous land into something far worse. Crops froze, and both animals and people were prone to plague and famine. The brutality of Barovia was never more apparent than in these months.

As Constantin trudged along, vague markings appeared in the snow before him as he crossed the path of a large animal. Stretching out to his left was a trail of destruction perpendicular to his own. The undergrowth had been blazed through like a scythe, the frozen ground beneath cleaved by great claws. A mournful howl sounded in the distance, followed by another and another. Wolves.

Constantin’s eyes went wide. “дерьмо…” He cursed to himself. Leveraging his large frame, he took off through the swaths of the torn-up forest towards the sound of the wolves. The towering Barovian hiked his hammer up into a high grip and took off running, cloak billowing in the ripping winds as he hauled himself towards the sound of the Barovian predators.

The howls grew closer, seeming to circle for a moment before they became distant once more. He burst into a small clearing in the wood, a circle of trees with a larger old oak at the center. Paw prints the size of dinner plates littered the fresh snow in a circle, dark blood dirtying the clean white ground. They must have just been here-- Given by the distant crashing of branches as they seemed to retreat.

“No, no, no…” Constantin muttered worriedly. “Yvan!” Came the yell shortly after. Inexorable in his pursuit of his friend and these presumed attackers, the man carried on, even as sweat poured down his face and the muscles in his legs screamed, burning with overwork.

Constantin rounded the base of the tree, the corner of his eye catching a limp figure leaning against it. It startled, jolting to attention almost. At the movement, Constantin swung around with his full body, ready to smash whatever came across his path. With it, he held the lantern high, light shining across the shadow beneath the oak.

"Ah- Hah, you scared me, brother." Yvan chuckled weakly, wincing at the light. He had been slashed head to toe, missing his shirt, cloak, and shoes, only being left with the remnants of his pants. His skin gleamed with a mixture of sweat and blood, the light not enough to make out which was which. Red seeped into the snow below him. "I- Didn't see you there." He murmured, swallowing thickly. He smiled up at the Barovian.

Constantin looked on in horror, his face darkening. “Idiot, look at you!” He cried, walking over to fall to a knee, inspecting Yvan’s injuries, numerous as they were. “What the hell happened to you? Brother, it does not look good.” He said grimly, taking his gloves off as if to administer emergency aid.

Yvan shook his head a bit, wincing in pain from the movement. Heat radiated from his body. Gashes covered his torso and face, many of them fairly deep while others were thinner, but most of them were going to most certainly leave a scar. They layered over each other like a macabre artwork. "Ah, do not fuss over me, you... You sound like the aunties." Yvan's voice was low, lacking its distinct strength, so normal for the Vistana. Over his words was a thin veneer of humor, obviously only there to soothe Constantin.

As Constantin observed, it became more and more obvious that these wounds were not of a wild beast. No, the edges were distinctly clean from sharpened blades, not a single bitemark anywhere on Yvan. This was confirmed by the wounds littering the Vistana's handsome features. His eyelids drooped momentarily before he tried to snap himself to attention. Blood gathered on the man's brows from two X-shaped slashes on either side, perhaps an attempt to blind him. He leaned forward, almost being beckoned by Constantin, slumping against his shoulder. This allowed the Barovian to see that Yvan had been laying on two arrows piercing his back.

“Who did this to you?” Constantin growled, his voice dropping to a rageful whisper. He applied a strap of cloth to the worst of the bleeding, applying significant pressure and packing the wound before tying it in place.

The humor soothed Constantin about as well as a rap in the eye with a sharp stick would soothe an angry grizzly bear. He acted with urgency, trying to tend to the multitude of Yvan’s wounds before noticing the impalement of the arrows. He shot a glance around the clearing, patting Yvan’s face as he lulled in consciousness. “Brother, please, stay with me. It’s not your time. Tell me who did this to you.”

Yvan huffed, trying to keep himself awake while also forming any semblance of a sentence. "I, brother--" His voice was but a whisper as he shut his eyes, chest heaving. "You won't understand-"

"Over there! I hear something-!" Yvan was cut off by a storm of footsteps through the brush, a small group of villagers crashing through and toting torches and lanterns as well. They were thirty yards off, looking through the dark wood for something or someone. Yvan perked before his lip curled in pain, his eyes wide with... Fear.

Constantin turned, slowly rising from where he knelt. "Stay. Here." He ordered as he began to step in their direction. "How DARE you!" He bellowed, approaching the raging mob of Barovians. "For what you did to my friend, my brother, you will pay! Вы глупые, злые ублюдки! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

The cloaked, masked figure, presenting a very flat, unassuming frame in the low light, swung his cloak open, taking his hammer in both hands before charging at the congregation. He hauled himself across the clearing, crashing into the first few of the angry mob with a sickening crunch of metal against the flesh, wide swings of his hammer reaping crushing blows against flesh, fabric, and whatever pale imitation of armor they wore. He tore headlong into the mass of people, throwing himself into the heat of the melee which he himself had started with such violent intent.

"Constantin, wait- Ergh!" Yvan tried to reach after him, losing his strength and falling flat in the snow. He writhed in pain, hand digging into the earth to try and distract him from the pain in the rest of his body. Blood leaked steadily from his uncovered wounds, leaving an ugly stain beneath him. He lifted his head just enough to see his brother go crashing in the direction of the villagers, murder in his voice.

A dozen or so men stopped dead in their tracks as Constantin hurtled towards them, clearly not what they were looking for on this night. Several cried out to take aim, those with melee weapons readying themselves as best as they could before being thrown to the side like ragdolls. Three in front went down, meager men with crossbows firing at Constantin only to watch the bolts dink off of his armor. Some screamed, and chose to run, shouting, "Devil! Devil!!"

"You cannot escape me!" Constantin hollered, clearly furthering his rage with violence. He continued to swing his hammer before it got caught on someone's neck or arm and ripped from his hands. Luckily, he had two good fists. Surrounded on all sides by fear and men with death warrants, he jabbed, swung, grappled. Constantin had spent most of his life training to fight, and now he had a chance to let loose and show off. He was swinging for the fences, bashing heads together, mostly unaware of the fact that he was outnumbered and clearly outgunned.

A stray arrow flew past his ear, nicking it slightly, just enough to hurt. Due to his staggering height, his center of gravity was much higher than that of the rest of the men, and it only took one measured lunge toward his waist for him to be knocked off balance. The wind whirled snowflakes overhead, the bodies of men littering the ground around Constantin as their blood began to stain the snow as well. Some began to rise, collecting themselves to retreat. Of the original twelve, only four remained, but it was the strongest of them.

An older gentleman hobbled to the side of a younger-looking lad who couldn't have been older than Constantin, attempting to stir him. A grim expression crossed his features as the other men attempted to wrestle Constantin down to the ground. "Henri is dead." He called out, causing the men to stop momentarily. All was quiet for a very brief moment before they turned to look at Constantin with murder in their eyes.

"Get ready to join them." Constantin snarled before stomping on the boot of the man gripping his left arm and slamming his forehead into the nose of the one who had his right. The Barovian behemoth fought like a cornered dog, struggling to break free of their grip and make good on his threat, as they very well likely were going to kill him to avenge their fellow.

The remaining men fought as well as they could, given their state, mostly starving and near freezing in the weather. They tore at the chainmail armor he wore, managing to get a hold of a bracer on his forearm and yank it off. As the Vasiliev headbutted one of the villagers, another gripped his arm and pulled it out straight, snapping it over his knee with more force than Constantin had expected. He felt the bones crunch on impact, perhaps not entirely broken thanks to the dense muscle, but at the very least fractured.

Constantin screamed in agony, his arm hanging limply as he thrashed against the others. Blood poured from his nose, a result of the headbutt, which he followed up with another one, kicking violently at any kneecaps and legs nearby, swinging his good arm, and scrambling to recover his hammer. "I'll kill you all!" Constantin roared again, overcome by violent intent on behalf of his dying friend.

A howl answered his cry, snarling echoing from the wood as the dark face of a white wolf emerged from the bushes behind the villagers. Its teeth gnashed at the calf of the man who broke Constantin's arm, dragging his leg out from underneath him and to the ground, trying to drag him into the bushes. The beast was enormous, the size of a small horse. Its gold eyes caught Constantin's gaze as it released the screaming man momentarily, only to snap back down and shake him back and forth.

Another wolf, this one sporting a tawny brown coat, snarled and lunged at another man, its immense weight taking him to the ground as its large paws pinned him where he lay. It growled in the man's face, drool pouring from its jowls and around pearly white, razor-sharp teeth. Whoever was left quickly turned tail, dragging their dead and injured with them as the crash of tree branches signaled the arrival of something much worse than the demon in armor they had just faced.

A third wolf emerged from the shadows of the tree line, seeming to melt away from the dark itself. Its fur was as black as night, making it near invisible had it not been for the dim light of one of the discarded lanterns that lay on the ground. It was larger than the rest, clearly the leader of the small pack, as it slowly stalked towards Constantin.

Constantin was now very out of his depth. He stalked backward, fiddling for the hammer. "Don't you do it." He muttered to the wolf. He dare not look away, back to Yvan, but he was backstepping towards his hammer and his friend. Once he reached the weapon, he took it in his hands. "Go! Go on! Eat the bastards that attacked my brother, not me!" He commanded fruitlessly as if the wolf could understand him. He stood resolute, holding the hammer at the ready with his one good arm, holding the snapped one close to his chest, quite gingerly still.

It growled, lips pulling back in a snarl. Its mouth was big enough to engulf Constantin's head, and even on all fours, it stood at his chest level. The wolf's gold eyes reflected in the light, almost as if it was studying Constantin. Or sizing him up for his next meal. It sniffed the air, smelling the blood all around as it looked passed him to where Yvan lay, now unconscious in the snow. It paused, the air thick with tension as the beast had the capability to strike at any moment. It let out a rough bark, turning its back on the Barovian and the Vistana. The wolf's long tail swept the snow behind him as he returned to the darkness from wence he came, disappearing into the shadows. The other wolves backed up, growling in Constantin's direction before following after the other.

The men who they had toppled lay motionless, perhaps pondering whether or not they were dead, before they collected themselves and ran to catch up with the group, not daring to look in the direction of Constantin. The Barovian turned and limped back over to Yvan, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from a handful of injuries he'd sustained while cradling his broken arm. "Yvan, I'm here. You're safe... I just need to... I.." He paused, inspecting Yvan to see if he still had a chance, as he began to mutter a prayer.

For a brief moment, nothing happened, and Constantin feared the worst. The blizzard roared overhead, snowflakes gathering in Yvan's hair and on his dark lashes. He looked so peaceful, despite his injuries. Like he was simply sleeping. Constantin could damn near feel his heart break, a pain worse than he had ever felt in his years of training, days traveling without sleep, or the many broken bones he had sustained over the years. He had spent three years alone, with no one who would lend an ear or even share comfortable quiet with, until Yvan had allowed him into his family. Constantin couldn't bear the thought of losing all of it all over again. He couldn't bear the thought of the Vistanis’ faces at the news of Yvan's death. Perhaps they would blame him. They would throw him out, or even worse, maybe kill him in their anger. Constantin didn't know if he would have the heart to stop them should they choose violence.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by light blooming beneath his palms against Yvan's cool skin. His heartbeat was weak at best, exhaustion having overtaken him trying to stop Constantin, but by the Fates, he was still holding on.

Constantin began to quickly mutter a prayer, over and over again, channeling holy healing energies, what limited pull he had over them, into Yvan. Time and again, he had knitted together flesh and bone of his own to continue a fight, but this time, that blessing was given to another at great personal cost. As red ichor dripped from several of Constantin's wounds. he reset his hands on Yvan's chest and intoned a prayer.

"Lord above, holy in might, lend healing to this poor, undeserving soul. Spare them the embrace of death, in your name." The same rehearsed phrase, the incantation of healing, but this time, with a personal note. "Lord... Please. He's all I have left."

As his own blood poured down and mixed with that of his friend's- A dim light glowed from each and every gash on Yvan's. This had never happened when he had healed himself- This was different. The light intensified, damn near blinding as it filled the wounds with gold. Was this the Morning Lord's light shining upon his friend, his brother? The Vistana's mouth fell open as he gasped sharply as if life itself had been breathed into him. The light dimmed, fading as quickly as it had come, allowing the night to once again creep in around them. All that remained of the wounds were pale scars, those made of fresh, new skin. Yvan's breath evened out into that of a deep sleep, signaling that he was stable.

"Yvan. Yvan... Yvan, wake up. Come on, brother..." He said, shaking the Vistana gently, eyes wide with shock at the power of holy magic that he had just manifested, far beyond his skills.

It is known that often the mightiest of Paladins are able to perform divine magic known to the Arcane Schools as Laying on Hands. Using holy might to bring life back from past the brink of death, channeling holy energy as a challenge to grievous and fatal wounds. To someone like Constantin, his own power deeply limited, hardly able to mend more than a scratch, much less than Yvan’s critical injuries. Except, seemingly, for today, where his anguish and fear at the loss of the only family he had left and the fervor and urgency of his prayer of healing came pouring out in the form of restorative life, perhaps a blessing of the Morninglord’s favor, a divine gift in return for the young man’s devoutness.

He's alive. He's alive. God, my arm hurts... Everything hurts. It's so cold.

These were the last thoughts through Constantin's mind, glancing at the mended form of Yvan before he placed a hand on one of his bleeding wounds... And lost consciousness.

Unlike most nights, Constantin's sleep was entirely dreamless. Just vacant, black void. He felt as if he was floating endlessly, aware of himself but not his surroundings. Distant voices broke the eerie silence. Though warped in nature, he was able to make out a bit of the conversation occurring.

"I can't believe we actually found them. The Fates must have smiled upon those boys, I was worried we weren't going to find them until spring." A man murmured, relief threading his words.

"They should thank their lucky stars. What do you think happened, brother? Did you see all of the blood, and those scars on Yvan? And the paw prints... They couldn't have come from anything else." Another voice answered, deeper and rougher than the first.

"We should not speculate. They will tell us what happened last night when they find their strength. For now, let them rest." The first replied. As Constantin stirred from his sleep, he opened his eyes to the grey sky above and the subtle bumps of the wagon. He lay in the back of a work cart, tucked in against a bed of hay covered with heavy blankets to keep the cold at bay.

The Barovian stirred slightly, shaking off the ethereal cloak of sleep as consciousness returned before his body caught fire with pain. So used to divine magic closing his wounds, the absence of such holy healing sent alarm bells of agony screaming through his brain. "Augh.." He groaned, shifting to try and find comfort, forgetting that his arm had just been broken. Hissing in pain through clenched teeth, the man stirred further, trying to catch a glimpse of his present situation.

One of the men perked, turning to look over his burly shoulder. Perched on the bench beside the driver, Constantin was able to make out Teodor through blurry vision. "Giorgio is awake." He hummed, almost surprised. "He is not looking very good, Marku. Go a little faster, won't you?"

Marku scoffed at this softly, and Constantin could hear the soft snap of the leather reins as the Vistana ushered the strong horses to press on. Constantin blinked away the sleep from his eyes, seeing Yvan beside him, still out cold. "I'm glad you are awake, friend!" Marku called back to him, not taking his eyes from the icy road. Teodor idly smoked from his pipe, looking down thoughtfully at the boys.

"We were worried when you didn't return a few hours after you left. We were searching all night." He was right. Constantin could observe this by the incredibly low level of oil in the lanterns hanging from the cart. Teodor looked tired, more so than usual. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and though his voice seemed entirely unsympathetic, Constantin could see the worry set deep into the crow's feet of the older man's eyes.

Awake was a bit of an overstatement, but alive was true. Somehow. "Urgh." Constantin groaned again, shifting slightly to try and ease the immeasurable agony he was still in. "Is Yvan alive?" He mumbled.

Teodor grunted softly, clearing his throat and nodding as he blew smoke from his nostrils. He glanced at Yvan, briefly looking over him before he answered. "Other than all of those mystery scars... He seems perfectly fine. He's always been the type of boy to sleep away all of his troubles." Teodor looked back to Constantin. "You, my boy, seem to be hurting though. Here, take some of this. It will soothe you." He held his pipe to the Barovian's lips, not so much an offer but a fatherly demand.

Constantin smiled weakly. "I wasn't too late..?" He muttered as the pipe was shoved in his face. He didn't entirely understand, but who was he to deny a demand from what was effectively as close to a father figure as he had left. He complied readily, taking as deep an inhale as he could manage with the handful of cracked ribs he likely had from his brawl with all of those angry Barovians.

The smoke burned his throat and lungs, stinging awfully good as he inhaled. It hurt for a moment, but as Teodor pulled his pipe away, the flavor of charcoal transformed into that of something floral. The man nodded. "Now hold, boy." He hummed, his voice firm, but there was a subtle tenderness to it. After a beat, he spoke again. "Breath out, slowly. That's it..."

Instant relief flooded Constantin's veins, still aware of his limbs, but the overall aches and pains were more or less gone.

"I should have been faster. He was almost dead." Constantin mumbled as the relief settled in. "A mob of villagers... I killed s-some." Constantin trailed off, barely coherent as it was, the pain relief taking a moment to really kick in as he lie there, wounded grievously as he was.

Teodor's brows knit together in confusion, something inscrutable crossing his rugged features. He looked to Marku, who shared an equally disturbed expression.

"Villagers? They attacked Yvan?" Marku murmured under his breath, repeating it to try and understand as he looked back to the road grimly. The normally jolly man cursed under his breath in Cel, a quiet rage bubbling to the surface. "Those brutes, attacking one of our own. They should know better! Why I ought to curse them all-"

"Marku, calm, my brother." Teodor soothed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That explains the arrows..." He commented to himself as he looked back to Constantin. "Did they see you? Your face?"

"Hrgh- I... I don't know. Mask, I was wearing the mask, I don't think so. Cloak, too... They called me devil." Constantin took a shaky breath, processing the events of the night. "They were going to kill him.." Another pause, a shaky cough. "I could not control myself. I threw myself at them, my hammer, I swung to kill... I don't know how many are dead, but they were going to kill me. There were too many." Constantin fell silent for a few moments.

"I was saved, by wolves. They tore into the villagers… And then looked at me. This wolf, it had golden eyes, the largest I've ever seen… I- It just walked away. Spared me. And him." Constantin looked to his friend, his brother, the one he had set out to save, the one he nearly died for. "I should have been faster. I could have stopped them before... Before they did this."

Teodor listened intently while Marku seethed, but both were instantly put off by the description of the wolves. They shared another look. "The wolves, they spared you--?" Teodor looked between Marku and Constantin, stealing a glance to Yvan momentarily.

"Teodor, on govori o Amaroku." Marku broke his silence, keeping his voice low. Teodor shook his head at this, scoffing.

"Please, Marku, not another one of your stories. Sirenas, planinski narod, and Amarok? Don't be foolish." He barked back, also trying to be quiet. Teodor sighed, trying to rein in his brief anger. “Forgive me. I am… A bit on edge. We could have lost Yvan last night. After Estella, another young soul like that….” Teodor trailed off, turning to Constantin after a few beats. "You did well, my boy. You still saved our Yvan, something we will never thank you enough for. He is stable. You, on the other hand, are not. You must understand what you did was heroic, and you should not feel ashamed."

Constantin tried to nod but could hardly move. "I tried." He mumbles, consciousness waning as the relief from the pain gives way to the exhaustion from the exertion of combat sets in once again. "If I die, tell Yvan he owes me three silver.” He mumbles again, slurring his words.

"Just a little farther, my boy. We are almost home." Teodor offered a weak chuckle, coughing up a plume of smoke. His words seemed to slur as well, but Constantin soon realized that it wasn't Teodor but the entire world around him began to swirl. The Vistani men continued a hushed conversation in Cel, their syllables melding together into white noise as Constantin slipped back under, rocked into unconsciousness by the rhythmic bump of the cart.

"It must be Amarok, brother. If what he saw was true, then maybe you will all believe what I saw all of those years ago." Marku pleaded, giving Teodor a look.

The other Vistana shook his head stubbornly. "I will not entertain such ideas. You were drunk that night, Marku, I remember. Odetta had to fetch you from the hayloft where you had climbed after you saw the so-called legendary shadow wolf. It is one thing to tell the children, to make sure they don't run off at night. But the giorgio is a grown boy, much like our Yvan."

Marku sighed, knowing his brother wouldn't budge on this. "I know what I saw, drunk or not. A great black wolf, larger than even the strongest of our draft horses! The very earth beneath his paws shook as he emerged. You saw the tree that had been torn from the ground all the way down to the root. You cannot deny that!"

Teodor continues to shake his head, crossing his arms. "It must have been a storm. Now keep your eyes on the road."

─── ･｡ﾟ��: *.☽ .* ﾟ☆───

While Constantin was blessed with yet another peaceful sleep in unconsciousness, the Vistana who lay next to him wasn’t so lucky. His dreams were filled with firelight and the blistering cold as he was chased through the dense Svalich woods, the raging Barovian villagers hot on his tail.

Unlike the events of that night, though, the woods were endless. He couldn’t stop running, despite the dozens of arrows piercing the muscle of his back or the numbness of his feet. He couldn’t stop. He knew that if he did, far worse would happen. Yvan could feel exhaustion set deep into his bones, but as if something was puppeteering him, he continued to plummet through the snow, never quite losing the madmen chasing him.

Yvan turned to look over his shoulder, the faces of the villagers now that of his friends, his family, the Vistani who had taken him in, and one pale face who stood out from the rest. Constantin. He wielded his hammer with such fury, pure hatred burning in his cold eyes. Yvan’s heart jumped into his throat, tears welling in his eyes.

He refused to suffer a fate like this. It wasn’t his Fate. He ran as fast as he could, branches encroaching on his path and snagging at his hair and clothes. Everything hurt; his muscles burned from exertion and the pain of the various wounds he had sustained. The delirium of the dream was made apparent as faces swirled his vision around him, taunting and gawking at how weak he was now. His adoptive parents, ever worrying and fearful of what Barovians would do to a boy like him. The blurry face of his birth mother, a woman he never quite knew, with a fate entirely unknown to him. And his father, the man who had raised him, the man from which Yvan’s very own blood originated.

“You must run, Yvan. No one will ever accept you how you are. You must keep running.” His father spoke, eyes boring into his own.

#Constantin #Constantin Vasiliev #Lore #Backstory #D&D #Yvan

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