There were rumours.  Rumours of beasts and worse roaming the mountains.  And those rumours had brought you here.

It is colder now, the gathering mists bringing with them a chill.  And the path seems strange, the road you tread somehow different to the one you started out on, though it is hard to be sure, for the pools, making it hard to see much of anything through the darkening forest that marches alongside the road.

The wind picks up, though the mists stubbornly cling on, unmoved by the stiff breeze that whirls around you, now bringing a snatch of almost childish laughter, next a low gutteral growling ... and then a grating sound, like a knife being scraped, back and forth, back and forth ...

A curve in the trail ... and the mists relent just a little to reveal an ugly stone building, in poor repair, with missing shingles on the roof and shutters that sag, as if one weary and defeated.  A metal sign swings back and forth, as if struggle to escape the rusted chains that hold it, the flaked paint declaring this sorry place to be the Weary Horse Inn.

Though it seems uninviting at first glance, with the dying of daylight and the clammy, clutching fog, it is a haven.  As you climb the steps and open the door, the warm fire seems to call to you, if the sullen, bold stares of some of the few patrons do not, as they return to their cares and woes, their voices low and even the clinks of their mugs seem subdubed.

Behind a wooden counter, a dwarf nods slowly, a dented helm on his head, a patch upon an eye that does not cover an angry scar, his remaining orb not leaving you.

And though you are the first, you are not the last stranger to arrive at this Inn this fell night ...

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Well-worn boots scuff the entryway as a small, cloaked figure shuffles in.  The cloak billows once, opening to dispel the damp, heavy outdoor air in favour of the warmer atmosphere within the room, then settling back.  Keeping huddled in the folds of the heavy cloth - not for secrecy, but shivering - Violet pads her way across the open floor, choosing a table.

No 'back to the wall' attitude here; she chooses one adjacent to the fire, opting for heat over the illusion of security.

A few hunched movements scrape the stool a touch closer to the flames, then the young woman begins work on her gloves.  Left...right...finished.  Stretching her fingers out, she holds them between her and the hearth for several long seconds.  Then the cloak finally comes off, to be folded and dropped on the hot stone.

No fantastical reveal occurs, for Violet is a drab young woman to match her drab old clothing and gear.

A final shiver wracks her body as the heat begins to take hold, and she begins to relax.  One hand reaches into a belt pouch for an instant, checking...finding...a thin smile creases her face, amusement at her own temerity.  Her own foolishness.  Then Violet sinks down on her stool, fading into the background; it's no trick of skill or magic, merely the fact of an unremarkable person seated at an unremarkable place.

Perhaps she will finally find that for which she has searched.

The door opens again just long enough for another traveller to enter the inn. He pauses and makes sure it is properly closed behind him before glancing around the room briefly then heading straight for the bar, not even pausing to remove his cloak or backpack.

"Good evening, master barkeeper. I will have some red wine, if I may, to wash the taste of that accursed mist out of my mouth, then you can tell me what choices of meals and lodging you have to offer," he says to the dwarf behind the counter.

Poor though it may be, the inn will provide shelter.  Tethering his large grey horse to a tree, the mail-clad rider starts for the inn door.  He has no concerns for his mount, or for the few belongings it carries in the saddlebags.

Flinging open the door, he stands for a moment surveying the room.  Light glints on chainmail, and reveals a youthful face and brown hair.  His eyes scan the faces in the room briefly.  There seem to be a lot of travellers on the road this evening.  Or maybe the weather has just driven a disproportionate number to this establishment.

Then, with a satisfied grunt, he steps into the room.

"Inkeep!" he proclaims in a cultured accent, "A glass of your best wine - a Furyondan vintage, if you have one - and whatever you can provide in the way of a hot meal.  Is there stabling available here, for my mount?  Or a village nearby, where I can find such?"

Saeko pads quietly along the trail, watching the mist cautiously.  After examining the squat, decrepit building that proclaims itself an Inn for several moments - very seriously considering continuing on her way - she allows that the horse tethered without and the hint of light coming from the windows (to say nothing of the cracks in the stone walls) suggest that it's perhaps not as abandoned as it looks, nor as condemned as it certainly ought to be.

With some reluctance, then, she approaches, and opens the door.  She stands a moment in the doorway, looking over the crowd and not at all hiding the fact that whether to come in and join them, or whether to stay out in the cold, is a finely balanced choice that could still go either way.  Finally, though, as a cold breeze causes the fire to waver, she steps in all the way and pushes the door closed against it.

Once her decision is made, she simply walks further into the room, seeking neither seat nor the bar.  She ignores the stares of the other patrons entirely, but stays quiet for the moment, seeing that others are already in line to engage the surly looking dwarf.

Qvar follows the well-trodden trail through the woods to the ominous-looking tavern.  Anyone chancing to peer out of the window will see his glowing head bobbing along through the mist like a will-o-wisp.  He opens the door to the common room and waits, his holy glow brightening  the doorway against the gloom outside as he scans the crowd for any familiar faces.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:16, Tue 06 Mar 2018.

Zertin looks toward the door each time it opens, as though expecting someone. He frowns slightly at the sight of the chainmail armoured warrior but doesn't give him much thought after that. The dark-haired young woman who enters next attracts even less of his attention. It is only when the glowing, golden-haired priest enters that he finally steps forward.

"So, you finally made it, brother? I was beginning to wonder if this was the right place."

He steps forward to clasp Qvar's hand in greeting. As he shakes hands he looks a bit more closely at his glowing face.

"You've changed somehow since I saw you last. You look lighter than I remember. Have you lost weight?" he asks.

New people.

Far more interesting than the locals, even the one-eyed dwarf.  Violet studies each of them, in turn.  A scholar, perhaps...and a knight.  That could be useful, Violet ponders.  The curiously-dressed woman, all in silver, might she be the one Violet seeks?

Ah.  A haloed man.  Probably that one, Violet, the young woman muses with heavy irony.  And brothers to the scholar; curious.  'The right place'; meeting here for a reason, or a family reunion?  Who can say?

Right now, though, the bartender/innmaster/whateverthedwarfnameshimself is currently busy with other orders; she'll need to ask later, see what's left.  Hardly an issue.

But that shining man...she needs to speak to him, Violet suspects, once everyone has settled.

Qvar leans his staff against the wall and grasps Zertin's hand, then pulls him into an embrace.  "A clean soul weighs nothing, Zed." He holds his brother at arms length and eyes him up and down.  "You look like you've gained a bit!" he laughs, rekindling their familiar banter.

Releasing Zertin his eyes wander the room.  He notices the woman seated by the fire and acknowledges her curious gaze with a warm smile.  He shrugs and beams at Zertin "Evidently this is the right place."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:07, Wed 07 Mar 2018.

Oh, that's good.

Violet knows little of Gods or Demons; such things haven't been part of her life in any great amount, for which she is thankful.  But to her mind, a shining aura probably indicates the worship of something positive.  The comment about souls, another mark in the man's favour.  And a welcoming smile, to boot...Violet touches her pouch, makes a decision.

In life, one needs to take risks, even with rejection.

Struggling to her feet - the heat has made her tired body heavy, and unwilling to move - she raises her hand slightly.  "The seats by the fire are warm," the young woman calls across the room to the brothers.  "If you've been travelling, you'll probably need that."  Offering an awkward shrug, Violet indicates the empty stools at her own table.  "I know I do."

Zertin hugged his brother just as warmly before stepping back a pace to talk more comfortably,

"I must admit I probably had put on a few pounds but I think the walk here has sweated in all off again. We must try to rectify that," he responded with a grin.

When the young lady by the fire called to them he grinned again at Qvar.

"You haven't lost your touch, I see," he told his brother. "You go ahead, I'll bring the drinks."

He paid for a pitcher of red wine and took it and three cups over to the table by the fire.

"Well met, young lady. You look like you have travelled far today, too. My name is Zertin and my fair friend here is my younger brother, Qvar, or Q as we generally used to call him."

He set the pitcher and cups down on the table and shrugged off his backpack, tucking it under the table before pouring the wine.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:53, Wed 07 Mar 2018.

Still bone-weary, Violet manages a seated bow as the brothers arrive at her table.  "Zertin," she tries; curious name.  "Qvar."  And another.  "It's my pleasure to meet you."  And it is - friendly people are always welcome.  "Violet."  She waves at herself.  "Not the name my parents gave me, but the one to which I answer."

It might sound as if her words hide a story, but like the rest of Violet, there is no drama to be found: only a soul-deep need to escape all aspects of a dull, farming life, even down to her name.

The young woman studies the wine for a moment, then reaches out and pours two cups, pushing them toward the gentlemen.  None for her...yet.  "Travellers.  What brings you to this place?"  A small smile appears and disappears on her plain features.  "This...land?  Territory?  Specific inn?"  Whatever they wish to answer is fine for her.  Or no answer at all, should that be the case.

His victuals ordered, Caesius moves towards the fire, steam rising from his dark blue travelling cloak.  Finding a place to sit, he drops his backpack on the floor between his feet, opens it, and pulls out a scroll which he starts to read with a faint smile on his lips...

Do not suffer an evil to live.   But more than that, do not allow it to die without having extracted just recompense from it for its crimes.

He knows the words of the scroll by heart, of course, and lives all of his days by them.  But it can do no harm for a man to refresh his memory...

"Violet," he repeats the name thoughtfully, then nods. "A good name. I am pleased to meet you too."

Zertin picks up one of the cups of wine and raises it to make a toast. He also raises his cup to the warrior who had just taken a seat nearby as though including him in the toast as well. The scroll had obviously caught Zertin's eye and he was naturally curious but he doesn't mention it at this point.

"To good health."

Then he takes a mouthful and savours the taste for a long moment before swallowing it down, then addresses the question Violet had asked.

"What brings us here? Well that is really Qvar's story, not mine. He sent me a message inviting me to meet him here to help him track down and destroy those who attacked his church on the road north of here. When was that, Q? A few weeks ago?"

Qvar does not feel at all weary, but is glad to sit where invited.  He frowns momentarily as he notices that the young woman is struggling, then smiles when she offers him a cup.  "Thank you Violet.  I shall make good use of this." 

His attention is drawn to the mail-clad warrior after Zertin's toast.  Surely this is the owner of the fine horse he saw tethered outside.     Guessing at the man's allegiance from the device on his shield, Qvar adds his own greeting "Well met, Fist of Heironeous."

"Yes, its been a month already."  Qvar replies to Zertin.  "On the bright side though, I've heard they are rebuilding already."  He gazes about the room again then cheerfully adds to Zertin and Violet "I suspect that many have been drawn to this place on this night."

"Yes, I suspect you are right, Q. I wonder whether everyone travelled the same road we did south from Dyvers to here, or followed my footsteps from Greyhawk before that?" Zertin says thoughtfully. "Did they just happen to come this way now or was there something that prompted that journey?"

Caesius raises his glass, in response to a  similar gesture from one of the group at a nearby table.  Then he returns to the scroll...

Evil takes many forms, and the righteous man must learn to recognise them all.  Sometimes the foulest of creatures may wear the fairest of guises.  But to one with the eyes to see, the darkness seeps out to corrupt all around it.

And then, his favourite passage...

Do not fear to smite the foulness, in His name.  A Just man need fear no evil.  His sword is as the purest lightning striking from the Heavens, and his shield is as the walls of a mighty fortress.  His enemies shall fall before him, like unto grain before the scythe, even though they be numerous beyond count.

Even so, he keeps half an ear cocked towards the conversation at the nearby table.  A tale of the sacking of a church, and a hunt for the perpetrators.

Interesting...

Saeko pauses in her steady circuit around the tavern, looking at Zertin and taking a few steps closer.  "Your pardon for interrupting, but I fear you are very lost," she says.  Her Common is undoubtedly cultured, but oddly accented.  "I know this territory well, and there is no Greyhawk, nor... Dyvers.  We cannot be more than an hour from the Path of Ten Thousand Paces, from Kaze no Kyuden to Natsu no Toshi.  When the sun has won against this mist, it would be my pleasure to guide you to the city, if you would like.  Perhaps from there you can gain your bearings."

"My apologies for this intrusion, but we are somewhere to the east of Moliond Hold, no more than twenty leagues from the Hold itself, or perhaps a little more." Caesius interrupts, "Though I must own that I do not recognise the landscape, and have not seen a number of landmarks that I should have recognised immediately."

"I can only assume that I have taken an unfamiliar road in the mist."

He smiles at the man who had spoken of his location, "And I am afraid that I must agree with the lady.  You are lost.  Dyvers is many days travel south of here."

The door opens with a bang and a blur of fur and fangs enters, carrying a smallish humanoid on its back.

"Ouja, Oooh'Awww, anyalia oama chaoula oizuui!"

The female figure on the back of the jaguar-like creature speaks to it, one hand loosely holding onto the fur.  The big cat kicks the door closed with a back paw and trots towards the counter.  Every few steps it glares at those gathered inside, the figure on its back following suit.

"Aeh!  Chaoula oizuui sasa!"

With a lazy jump, the cat leaps up on the counter and the female dismounts seamlessly even as the feline jumps down almost instantaneously.  She seats herself on the edge of counter, feet hanging over the front.  With a frown she appears deep in thought for a few moments before gesturing to the dwarf behind it.

"Bring food eat." 

A coin is slapped down on the counter with a clonk on the counter and she then shoves it towards him.  The accent is thick and broken, much unlike the earlier sing-song language she spoke to the cat with.

The cat saunters over to the fireplace and plants itself as close at it can get, staring straight into the dancing flames.

Saeko spins when the door slams open, hands dropping to the hilts of her swords, but relaxes as it is quickly clear that the feline is both well trained and well mannered.  Nevertheless, she turns slowly to watch the pair cross the room.

"If I may revise my opinion," she says, turning back and taking a step back to include both Zertin and Caesius, "I fear we are all lost."

Caesius watches the diminutive figure, and the not-so-diminutive animal as they enter, and pulls his feet back as the animal goes past him on its way to the fire.

"Interesting.  Had I known that was permitted, I would have brought Hammer in with me.  Though I would have moved some of the furniture first." he says, with a lop-sided smile.

The Dwarf speaks no word to any of the new arrivals, but nods familiarly to Violet as she enters, and again to Arafarafarfa and her big cat, though somewhat more perfunctorily as if he's not altogether happy to see the pair again.

Indeed, it seems the two are, if not regulars, then at least known to the innkeeper  ... and to the other patrons as well, for they too nod their greetings with more or less enthusiasm (and, as the big cat crosses the common room, only push their chairs back from the table just enough to give them the option of trying to flee without looking as if that is their intent or fervent wish), though the rest of you garner just suspicious glances, save for Qvar whose glowing corona invokes no little muttering between them.

But though the Dwarf is silent ... by necessity, you judge, for t'would be a strange affectation for any innkeeper to be so rude by choice), he is at least attentive, producing a pitcher of wine of a deep, almost purple hue for Zertin, and a glass of the same (be it Furyondan or not, as appears more likely in light of your current discussion) for Caesius, as well as a shrug in response to his questions).

Ale too, more swiftly procured for one of the other patrons, a farmer perhaps, or manual labourer of some kind by his dress and the dirt on his hands and face, in response to a raised tankard and raised voice, "Another, Rugar, when you're ready !"

And ale again, set besides Arafarafarfa as she takes her seat, before serving the other man, and pounding on the door in the corner of the room as he makes his way back.

Perhaps half a minute ... and the door opens and a man limps out, either servant or cook or both.  Short of stature, but not a Dwarf by any stretch, he raises a questioning chin at Rugar, nodding in turn as the innkeeper points first to the tattooed creature sitting on the counter (and then quickly looking about until he locates her big cat, lips tightening as he spots it by the fire) then back to the Dwarf, following the finger which indicates Zertin then Caesius, nodding again.

Slowly, the cook, shall we say, navigates the tangle of stools and tables and past Saeko till he draws close enough to speak.

"Soup or stew ?" he asks Caesius and Zertin in turn, politely enough, if with little cheer, and while thus proven to be not so silent as Rugar, still seemingly a man of few words.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:48, Sun 11 Mar 2018.

"Stew, I believe." Caesius responds, after barely a heartbeat's hesitation.

Zertin is still slightly stunned by the recent conversations and sudden arrival of the extraordinary feline and its bizarre little rider, which seems to be taken as a normal sort of occurrence here.

"Er, stew, thanks," he responds after a moment to collect his thoughts. "And something for my brother, too. Q, soup or stew for you?"

The cook nods wearily, though he stirs enough to ask, "Anyone else ?" while he waits for Qvar to reply.

Jaws part and the head all but turns inside out as the feline yawns, displaying an impressive set of cuspids.  The big cat then stretches, front legs stretched out in front of it with claws digging into the floor, displaying their sharpness before sitting back up straight.

With the tongue lapping its nose and chops, the feline proceeds to look around at the people around it, yellow eyes piercing through them if they dare to look into its eyes.  For a moment a rumbling can be heard, deep like distant thunder.

From the counter, the small female calls out, gesturing to the cat.  "Meat Oooh'Awww!"  It is highly doubtful she means to introduce it.

Zertin looks at the big cat a little nervously. He certainly doesn't look like he wants to be any closer to that creature than absolutely necessary. Something moves slightly at his right side, under his cloak, and he gently brushes his hand across his cloak at that spot until the movement ceases.

"I definitely travelled southwards from the city of Dyvers. It is physically impossible that I could have walked as far north as you say, master warrior, and I crossed no lake or river on that journey. If that does not accord with where we are now, then there is magic at play here. Magic, or some other power interfering in the natural order of things. Do any of you know of this place or how we come to be here?"

"My name is Caesius Moliondes.  My father was Horianon, son of Agresaide, and grandson of Gamlach." Caesius introduces himself.

"I was travelling to Moliond Hold, which lays some distance northwest of Critwall in the Shield Lands, that city standing some eighty leagues north of Dyvers.  I know that I left Critwall yesterday and followed the Ritensa north for half a day, before turning west."

He shrugs his shoulders, "I had thought to cross the Veng a little south of Molag, and thence to what remains of my home, but have not seen the river or the accursed city."

"Well met, Caesius. I only know a little about the history of the Shield Lands but at least that gives me a good understanding of where you come from, if not how we could have been walking in opposite directions and somehow arrived here together.

"I am Zertin Weisse  and this is my brother Qvar. Our family home is in the city of Dyvers although we have lived many leagues apart more often than not in recent years. (Their surname Weisse is pronounced as Wheeze.)

"Who else have we here? This young lady is Violet and the big cat by the fire is called Oooh'Awww, according to its rider, sitting over there on the counter."

He looks at the other young lady who has joined  the conversation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, if you gave it. I have never heard of your Path of Ten Thousand Paces or those two place names you mentioned. Are they even within the Flanaess, which is the land where Dyvers and the Shield Lands are located?" he asked Saeko.

"HA!  Home we no.  Land giant strangeness, tales wild, lurk monsters say."

The lady of the tattoos perched on the counter shouts, louder than needed, followed by a loud mutter.  "Mjinya maouewa si nyume'ani anajua.  Frrr."

She bangs herself on the chest with a clenched fist.

"Arafarafarfa!" she shouts, still, all the r's being oddly soft as if barely enunciated.

"Oooh'Awww!" comes the next shout, fist in a straight arm aimed at the big cat.  It sounds slightly different the way she pronounce it.  The ears of the cat flick and it glares over at the "wheezy" fellow.

Saeko lifts her head a bit, about to answer Zertin, stopping and turning again to look at Arafarafarfa.  "Arafarafarfa," she repeats it carefully, almost precisely.  With a nod, she turns back again.

She smiles faintly, glances at Caesius, and then responds, "My name is Saeko, third daughter of the Yamashima Family, Fifth House of the Kingdom of Sekai, Second Kingdom under the Imperial Crown.  Flanaess," this, too, she mimics carefully, "Is not among the Kingdoms.  I am a humble apprentice of Kaze no Kyuden."  She tips her head faintly, but offers no other trace of this purported humility.  Drawing one of her katana a measured few inches from its sheath, she indicates the design engraved at the base of the hilt.  "Daughter of the Wind."  She slides the blade quietly back into its home.

"Four of us walk the Path of Ten Thousand Paces for tales wild, lurk monsters say."  Though she repeats the broken words, her delivery remains formal, with only a small smile tugging the corners of her lips.  Letting the smile grow - slightly, but into an actual smile - she clarifies, "Something has been hunting travelers.  We are hunting it."

Watching the newcomers, Qvar shrugs distractedly when Zertin offers to buy food.  "Neither, thank-you Zed.  I don't eat." He smiles up at the cook to ensure no slight may be interpreted.

He smiles warmly as the exotically glittering warrior woman with the deadly-looking swords approaches, feeling quite safe to be in the company of such well-armed travellers.  "Perhaps we needed to be lost to find each other."  he speculates, fascinated by their conversation.

He edges his sandaled foot a little closer to the fireplace, towards the big cat, watching the animal with joy.  "There is nothing like a cat on a hearth to make a place feel homely."  When the cat's rider speaks her name, Qvar silently mouths the unfamiliar syllables, enjoying the spectacle of this small person owning the room.  Grinning delightedly at Zertin, "Brother, clearly this life is going to be much more interesting than the last."  On a fervent breath "By Pelor's radiant grace."

"Thank you Saeko and you too, Arra-farra-far-far. I am pleased to meet you and look forward to the stories you can tell of the lands you come from."

He looks surprised when his brother declines the offer of a free meal.

"Are you sure, Q? I know you take your vow of poverty seriously, but since when did that extend to even eating a meal?" he asked Qvar.

Qvar and Zertin respond - favourably, which is a relief - and then the conversation shoots off on a tangent.  While Violet doesn't know where everyone is, exactly, she knows they're not where they think they are, and neither is she.  Another thing about the area - if one can name it such - in which they find themselves.

And yet another traveller enters, this time accompanied by an enormous feline.  Or is it the other way around?  Shrinking back a touch, Violet cannot help but note how swiftly the brightly armored woman reacts, and how none of the others in the room - other than Zertin - show anything approaching fear.  She finds the event rather unnerving, herself, and edges away from the spotted beast as it flops down close to the flames, keeping one hand beneath her cloak, fingers curled around a dagger hilt.

For all the good that will do.

Offering a small nod of the head when Zertin graciously introduces her, the young woman commits the names - and possible names - to memory.  Though, to be truthful, after a second of listening to Saeko, Violet gives up.  Leaning toward the cook as he passes, she quietly queries, "What's in the soup and stew?"

The others continue to speak, the conversation washing over her like the waves of an ocean.  She lets it - no sense in interrupting with this meeting proceeding so smoothly.  Pelor, the girl muses.  A god, it would seem.  Suspicions correct; thankfully so.

Eyes narrow at the man mangling her name and a hand goes towards the large, for her, sword at her side.

"Say challenge Sir Thineese?  Want death fight?!" comes a throaty growl, only to mellow slightly at she glances around.  With a shake of her head and a forlorn sigh she places her hand on the counter again, giving an annoyed look instead of the threatening one.

"Ahrh. Afa. Hrhaf. Ahrh. Fa."

It still have exotic sounds in there, not quite found in Common.

"Perhaps we did," Saeko allows, thoughtfully, in response to Qvar's observation.  "It is a pleasure to meet each of you, also."

She steps smoothly to the side when Arafarafarfa gives her challenge, but does look pleased when she sets it aside.  Turning around yet again, she walks over to the bar.  "Where is this place?" she asks the barkeep.  "What kingdom or domain does it lie within?"

Still waiting for the answer from the server - the bartender won't give her much about the food, Violet knows - the young woman coughs once, then raises her voice slightly.  "You're not where you were before."  A shrug follows that proclamation.  "Wherever that was," Violet continues more quietly.

"This place is different.  And finding the path back to where you came from..."  Closing her eyes, she considers Chaville, brilliant city of lights, and home to some of the filthiest poor on Gaia.  "That's not easy."

"Meat," the cook informs Violet as she enquires after the makings of the soup or stew, nodding if she wants a bowl and nodding if she doesn't as if it's all the same to him ... much it seems as is the fare on offer here.

Orders taken, he limps back to his kitchen, glaring at Arafarafarfa as he goes.  "S'coming," he tells her crossly.

"We are all lost," one of the other three patrons speaks up, leaving off staring morosely into his cup to meet Violet's gaze.  His eyes too flick often to the big cat by the hearth as he talks, more fearful of the beast than either the young woman or Zertin but most certainly less nervous addressing her than any of the rest of you, if only that her drab garb is more on par with his own humble attire.

"You'll not get any answer out of him," the garrulous man glances towards Saeko, though turns back to Violet as he continues his tale.  "and little enough from our cook.  Rugar there does not speak but he does write, and I cannot read, but our cook is a talented man and can manage both, though he's miserly with either.  A good cook though, I'll grant, or least the best I've known."

"Wherever he came from, that Dwarf had his throat cut for him ... yet here that wound is gone without trace, but the memory of it lingers and so he cannot speak.  Our cook's leg festered ... and again, here it is whole, yet he limps simply because he always has.  Habits of a lifetime."

"These are the borderlands ... some might say between one domain and the next, though I say it is the crossing point betwixt life and death."  He snorts at that thought, perhaps finding his own words amusing.   "It is an odd place, I'll grant.  Here I don't get hungry ... nor can I get drunk, though I'm not yet ready to give up trying !" He waves his empty cup at the innkeeper, pointedly.

He shakes his head.  "M'name's Randal.  From Surd if you've ever heard of it.  Never met one yet who has, though."

"Ahrh-afa-hrhaf-ahrh-fa. Ar-afa-raf-ar-fa. Arafarafarfa," Zertin practices the young woman's name. "No death fight, thank you. You can just call me Zertin. Is there a shorter form of your name we can call you? One that would not offend you?"

When Violet and Randal speak up Zertin listens and considers their words thoughtfully before responding.

"Thank you, Violet and Randal. How long have you been here? Arafarafarfa mentioned monsters. Can you give us any idea what we might be facing here, or where we should go to find out more about how and why we are here?"

"Randal.  Good to have your name.  Surd's a new one," Violet mutters, nodding away the serving man without ordering.  It's a good thing to hear that Randal isn't getting hungrier; she has noted something of the same, herself, and is running low on her rations.  "I mean...the world is a big place, and maybe it's just some place I've never heard of.  Like on Eurakia.  But I'm guessing no."

Nobody here has heard of Gabriel, either.

She peers at Zertin for a long moment.  "I've been wandering around this misty land for a bit.  Seems there's deviltry at work; the rulers here, of their various kingdoms, aren't particularly kind or generous.  I've no idea which one we're in now - I've not visited this way, myself, so I can't help much with that."  She stares morosely down into her wine.  "Was in a city.  Stepped through an alleymouth one night and found myself in a different one.  Couldn't find the way back, either, and not for lack of searching."

She waves a hand toward Qvar.  "Where I come from, they'd lionize your brother as a saint, just for looking that way."  A shadow crosses her face, and she squeezes her cup.  That, or burn him at the stake.

Flip a copper bit, see which comes up.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:06, Wed 14 Mar 2018.

It's  certainly an eclectic group, Caesius muses, as others introduce themselves.  A follower of Heironeous, a Pelorite, some kind of strange, savage woman with an unpronounceable name and a deadly challenge waiting for any who can't speak it...  Zertin, Violet, Saeko... not so clearly defined at this stage, but just as lost as the rest.

Even the servants.

Zertin may have the right of it, without even realising it.

"Perhaps why we are here is more important than how we are here.  Somebody, or something, brought us here.  The how has no bearing on anything, we know it was done somehow.  But the why might be crucial when it comes time to find a way home."

Zertin's concern for his welfare is nothing new, in fact Qvar has relied on it numerous times over the last thirty years.  Making ends meet is often difficult when one has taken a vow of poverty, and Zertin has been far more understanding and generous than most in their family.  Yet there have been recent difficulties that even his brother was unaware of.  "I have not needed to eat for several years, brother.  My sacred vow sustains me, body and soul.  But... I died Zed, when my church burned down.  Then, by the Light of Pelor, I was raised up and set upon a new path."  He smiles to reassure his brother that he is completely at ease with this.  "That's why I called you, because you have travelled far, from Dyvers all the way to the great city of Greyhawk, and know more of the world than one can possibly learn in one village."

He laughs aloud when Zertin hazards a guess at Arafarafarfa's name, glad that he did not try to speak it aloud.  Surely not even the gods could save one from the wrath of that tiny tigress!  He looks hopefully towards Arafarafarfa when Zertin asks if there is a short form.

"You are generous, Violet," he beams across the table at her, his glow momentarily brightening further to touch her hands and the cup they grip so tightly, "but I've done nothing to qualify for sainthood... only served one village, and failing even to defend its church."  He listens to the conversation, intrigued to learn that suffering and hunger have been assuaged from a land ruled by uncaring kings.  "Have you been here before, Violet?"

"Giant make joke short?!"

Hoping down from the counter Arafarafarfa begins to march over towards the table where Zertin is seated, her big - for her size - eyes glaring daggers at him.

"No laugh."  She stabs at her chest with a thumb.  Indeed she is not laughing.

The ears of the cat swivels towards the one who rode in on it and ripple goes through its fur, but it remains rooted to the spot, staring into the flames.  A very faint but deep knapping sound emits from it.

Zertin stares at Arafarafarfa for a moment before responding.

"That wasn't a giant joke. I do know a giant joke, though. [Language unknown: Ons be of encthaect ngdisack eeut cethi a fo, a recaun ate ur onswasout osrepr thire olla stahasrom hi? O reshouine ainicaoul p mason ietic n st rateareen a his der ioti llweho, "Eenatishe chsa u in ithtioson venon llceal wasntitra ourni?"]"

Fortunately Zertin is able to keep a straight face after delivering that one and he returns to the original topic.

"Where I come from it is very common for people to shorten the names of other people to make it easier to say or less formal and more friendly. My brother Qvar calls me Zed and I call him Q. Perhaps one day you will be ready to let us ..."

Whatever he was trying to say trails off into stunned silence as his brother's words finally sink in. He snaps his attention to Qvar, completely forgetting what he was saying to Arafarafarfa.

"You died, Q? I didn't know. But you were brought back, thank the gods. Thank your god! But how? How could you afford that with that vow of poverty you took? Is that somehow the reason you look so different now? Your hair? That's not just bleached, is it? A new path? Was that the price? Oh brother, what path do you follow now?"

The knight of Heironeus eyes Zertin curiously.  Caesius hadn't recognised the language the other man just spoke, and is unsure if he was mocking the small woman.  It could be a dangerous thing to do - the paladin has met a few halflingsin his travels, and they are often far stronger than they look.

Then Zertin changes the subject, asking for clarification concerning Qvar's remark, and Caesius relaxes a little, though still keeping one eye on Arafarafarfa, just in case.

She does seem a little volatile.

Eyes narrow into slits too small to make out the eyes through as the tattooed female stomps onward.  A noise can be heard from her, a throaty, guttural sound, not unlike a growl.  Indeed, very much like a growl.  Perhaps the joke went right over her head.

"Je, huaraiya oichwa juu ya araunda mara'aoa sasa ladha ya ueonyo." 

By the fire the cat remains unmoving, ears still tracking.

"Ioiwa unaweza ouiaraatha.  Ouara'unyuza wewe ithaouwa." 

The head of the cat turns to look at Zertin, unreadable.  It is a cat, after all.

"This path Zed." he opens his arms wide to indicate 'everything'.  "And as for dyeing... Looks like you're about to find out."  He grins broadly and sits back to watch the show.  There are some things that money just can't buy.

Caesius leans forward where he sits, and says, "Friend Arafarafarfa.  This man is not worth your attention.  His head is damaged."  He taps a finger against the side of his own head, and then moves it in a small circle... the universal sign for madness.  "Broken.  He makes jokes about strangers, without knowing how strong they are.  But he means nothing by it.  He is a harmless fool.  An unworthy foe."

OOC: Fixed typo.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:52, Mon 19 Mar 2018.

Violet leans back in her seat at the shining man's explanation.  He...died?  And has returned?  Perhaps the Church would not be amiss naming him a Saint...or, again, burning him at the stake, depending upon the means of his resurrection.  Just the idea pushes her stomach into as slow roll.

Perhaps, as the armored man states, they have all been called here for a reason, though it beggars comprehension as to why she herself would be included.

It's a struggle not to pull her hands away when his light brightens, but the glow offers no sensation against her fingers, neither brimming with the light of creation, nor hot with the flames of hell.  "I've been to this inn," she admits, "but not further on.  I've been..."

...waiting?

The young woman doesn't get the chance to decide the ending to her sentence; something appears to be brewing between the cat-rider and Zertin (who, surprisingly, seems to know the diminutive savage's language).  The armored man - Cassius?  No, Caesius - steps in, looking to cool the sudden threat of violence, and Violet finds herself nodding.  Granted, her agreement is not with his judgement of Zertin, but with the purpose behind it.  "Can we not fight?" she implores.  "I'd rather not be thrown out of the only warm place around.  And maybe we're supposed to be here, together."

Just in case, she slides her feet back, putting her balance on them rather than the chair; not for attack, but to remove herself from whatever fracas might explode.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:33, Tue 20 Mar 2018.

"This path. Really?" he sighs. "Well then, thank you for inviting me along, brother. I don't suppose you have a map for this path we are on, or know where we can find a guide?"

He shakes his head and looks around to see whether anyone else shares his exasperation. But instead of support he finds himself confronting incomprehensible anger from the little tattooed woman and the knight, if that is what he is, seems to be questioning his sanity. Zertin looks baffled by their reaction until he suddenly realises what the problem must be.

"Oh, you don't speak the language of the giants? None of you? I'm sorry, I suppose I have spent too long in the Guild of Wizardry in Greyhawk. There is always someone there who knows any of the languages I speak. Forgive me, I will translate it for you.

"What did the giant innkeeper say when an elf, a dwarf and a gnome walked into his giant inn? He looked around at the rest of the giants in the inn and asked, "Which one of you ordered the three course meal?"

"It's rather a good joke, don't you think? Not very realistic, of course, as there are not many giants with that good a sense of humour, but I don't really think that giants were the intended audience for that joke. Probably not elves, dwarves or gnomes either, come to think of it.

"But I'm sorry, Arafarafarfa. I don't recognise that language you spoke. I do have a scroll with me with a spell that allows me to comprehend languages. Do you wish me to use it or shall we both agree to speak in the common tongue this evening?"

He pauses then and looks at Arafarafarfa again.

"You're not a gnome, are you?" he asks cautiously, suddenly worried he might have misjudged her race and accidentally insulted her.

Saeko, still over by the bar, has set her pack on a chair and begun pulling a few items out.  "My thanks, Randal of Surd.  I fear I cannot say I have, but I hope one day you find your way home."

Though seeming to pay little attention to the brewing exchange behind her, she does pause briefly to look back curiously and ask, "What is a gnome?"  She uses the same precise pronunciation she has before.

While she waits for either an answer or a battle to begin, she takes out a scrollcase and quietly opens the end, draws out a piece of parchment, and lays it on the bar.  She rests a fine quill - peacock feather, by the look of it - across it, and then sets a jar of ink beside them both.  "It is Rogar, yes?  I am Saeko.  Please, if you know, and if you would, what is this domain?  Where are we?"

Qvar laughs aloud when Zertin translates the joke.  He had missed his brother's company.

When Zertin hears Saeko's question about gnomes he responds immediately.

"Oh, gnomes are little people, a bit like a cross between dwarves and elves but only half the size of either of those races. Very creative folk, gnomes are, often very skilled with mechanisms, great inventors, very fond of a practical joke, with a natural aptitude for the illusion school of magic and good with animals, burrowing animals usually."

He glances nervously at Arafarafarfa a few times as he lists the points that most resemble her.

At the explanation from the seated man Arafarafarfa slows her approach, watching the gestures.  She appears to mellow enough to not attack at the moment, although the cat by the fireplace still watches the events keenly.

The rest of them receives a snort, except for the talkative fool, according to his table-fellow.

Then he speaks the joke and she begins to growl again, fixing him with a cold glare.

"Fool giant too much speak.  If speak not stop Oooh'Aww maybe eat soon.  Good joke, or maybe not."

She smiles, if a bit too wide and a bit too grim.

A long tongue comes out and sweeps over the nose and jaw, eyes still on Zertin.  Could be a sheer coincident.  Or not.

Zertin glances at Oooh'Awww when Arafarafarfa mentions the big cat. He stares for a moment and shakes his slightly in bewilderment before he finally tears his eyes away.

"Er, yes, perhaps we should all eat soon!" he agrees fervently.

There is another ripple of movement beneath his cloak and he pulls his cloak open to allow a weasel to emerge.

"Louise, this is Arafarafarfa and her companion is called Oooh'Awww; at least I think that is how it is pronounced," he tells the weasel. He bends down to listen to its squeaking.

"Yes, Oooh'Awww certainly is big!" he agrees.

With one last glance at the big cat, Louise the weasel darts back under the cover of Zertin's cloak.

Qvar grins when he sees the weasel, momentarily forgetting the life-threatening gravity of Zertin's situation.  "Hello LouLou.  You remind me of a funny story.  What do you call a goblin with a ferret down his trousers?"

Relief settles in as the situation defuses, and Violet sinks back in her chair.  The heat slowly steals into her clothing, exiling the dampness.  She doesn't want a fight, not here, not anywhere if she can avoid it.

Fighting has never been her preference.

For a long moment she studies Zertin as he speaks to his...weasel?  Marten?  Ferret?  She's never been good with distinguishing such things, animals not being her forte.  The real question, though, hums through her mind: is the man insane?

Or does the beast actually commune with him?

Burned at the stake for sure, she considers.  Or sent to an asylum; either way, it's death.  Fortunately, this place is different from her home, a fact she learned upon her 'arrival'.  These places, these...domains...certainly this world is not the same as hers.  It's a world where magic is...well, if not the norm, then something not altogether abhorrent.  She can live with that, not having been a terribly good Christian herself.

Warm enough now.  True, but Violet remain loathe to completely abandon the fire.  She makes a compromise, picking up her chair to shuffle a little further from the big cat.  Qvar is giving out his own humour; Violet waits for him to finish before speaking up.  "If we're all from...somewhere else, what are your plans?"  She shrugs.  "I, myself, would rather find a way home.  I've tried backtracking, without success.  So I'm thinking that some exploration is necessary."

Zertin furrows his brow in thought as he ponders his brother's riddle.

"Nicolas?" he guesses, although the way he says it sounds rather like "Nickerless".

Violet's question deserves at least as much serious thought as that riddle.

"If there is truly a way back, then there must be someone here who knows what it is. A priest or a mage, perhaps. Or a bard? Or perhaps they can tell us why we are here," he suggests.

Still glaring at Zertin, Arafarafarfa exhales sharply through her nose.  After a while she looks over at Caesius and taps her fist again her temple before inclining her head towards Zertin.

"Head-broken true.  Sliding-land head."

Turning to listen to the others speaking she scoffs, gesturing to Violet.

"Not-home.  Sand-wind force shelter.  Go still and wet, home not, big dumb trees and giants around.  Some dumb more."  The tail-end of her broken speech earns Zertin another glare.

Qvar laughs at Zertin's guess.  "Ha!  But no, he's a hobgoblin."  He leans closer to Zertin and makes some little sucky kiss-kiss sounds, trying to coax the weasel back out.  "Louise would have guessed it."

He ponders Violet's question, and Zertin's speculation.  "As Caesius Moliondes suggested, perhaps we must remain here now until we do what we were brought here to do.  For my plan, I shall try to do what Pelor needs me to do."  His face brightens.  "Usually the hard part is trying to figure out what that is.  But Zertin's plan is simple, he came because I asked him."

He looks towards Arafarafarfa and smiles welcomingly at her.  "Now that you've decided not to end my brother's life, will you join us?"

Caesius releases a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.  The crisis seems to have been averted, at least for the moment - Arafarafarfa looks like she is prepared to give Zertin the benefit of the doubt.

Which could be a good thing.  Zertin might be the best hope for finding a way home, but only as long as nobody is roasting his heart over an open fire, or slitting his throat as their own idea of a joke.

"Arafarafarfa, Violet... both of you seem to have been here for a little while.  Do you know anything of this area?  For instance, where do you go when you are not here, in this inn?"

Zertin puzzles over Arafarafarfa's comments.

"Head broken? Sliding-land head? Oh, I get it. Unstable!" He laughs. "Fair enough. Some dumb more."

He raises his mug of wine to her as a toast.

He chuckles a bit more about that as Qvar explains his goblin joke.

"Brother, I hope we meet a hobgoblin soon, so you can tell him that one!" he laughs again.

"Not life kill.  Nose smash, bones perhaps snap few."  She moves a little closer to the table.  As Zertin echoes her word for word, Arafarafarfa shoot daggers his way again and gives a snarl, showing teeth.

"Maybe snap yet!"

Not taking her eyes of him her head turns towards Caesius.

"Not home.  DUMB giants everywhere," her eyes narrow, still trained on Zertin, "come here look normal tall people." A quick nod of her head indicates the bartender.

Watching the bartender with polite patience, Saeko gives him an encouraging nod and then turns again to face the gathering by the fire. "Zertin is clearly neither mad nor stupid. I shall expect no further mention of it until he gives evidence for either," she states.  Matter settled, she turns back to Rogar.

Zertin frowns and squeezes his eyes closed as though he is getting a headache. After a moment he responds to Arafarafarfa.

"Ararafarafarfa, I am not sure what you are saying. What do you mean when you say giants and normal tall people? The bartender is a dwarf. I am a human. Where I come from giants are twice as tall as humans.  Are you calling me a giant or are you saying there are lots of real giants here?"

Squeezing his eyes closed, Caesius pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  Then he opens his eyes an looks at Arafarafarfa, and at the dwarf, and a smile spreads across his face as an idea falls into place in his mind.

"Arafarafarfa... where you come from, are there any people taller than you and your kin?  Ones who aren't giants I mean."

The mangling of her name by Zertin makes her gnash her teeth, but she holds her temper enough to not attack.  For the moment.

"All here giant!  Food-maker and drink-giver normal.... Some.  All giant land here!  Think curse sent here for killing giants home.  Giants home talk not, kill and eat normal people."

She glares under her brow at everyone.

"Arafarafarfa tall home.  Kill giants with Oooh'Awww, life-friend."

"Giant here some dumb like giant home."  She squints at Zertin.  "Not ugly as home."  Now she grins at him.

Randal falls silent as Arafarafarfa threatens Zertin, the man from Surd managing just a small smile in response to Violet's reply as he watches the exchange between the two, alternatively wincing at the wizard's inadvertent indiscretions and flinching at the Halfling's belligerent rejoinders.

But Caesius's attempts at diplomacy see Randal loosing the breath he hadn't realised he was holding in, and though he all but jumps from his chair as Rugar appears at his elbow to fill his cup, he gulps gratefully at his ale, and even manages a small smile as Saeko pronounces the matter closed ... and then a belly laugh as Zertin and Qvar exchange jokes, finding the matter of neither wizardry nor returning from the dead as aught unusual.

The cook returns, the mouthwatering aromas from the bowls of stew preceding him somewhat as he offers a bowl to Arafarafarfa first, along with a platter atop which reclines a bloody cut of meat which it seems he dare not place before her cat himself ... and finally bowls for Caesius and Zertin both.

"More if ye want it," he manages as he turns away, heading back to his kitchen, pausing only to pause with obvious irritation as one of the other two patrons who have not yet offered their names, stands and pushes past him, heading towards the bar.

Back at his post, the silent Dwarf looks at Saeko's appraisingly, but finally nods, putting down his cloth on the counter and picking up the fine quill, dipping it in the ink before he begins to write, taking great  care as he pens the letters as if trying to remember how they are formed. 

The other man places his cup on the counter, nodding to Rugar as he turns to watch you, rubbing his short beard, perhaps curious as to whether the Halfling might yet make good her threat, smiling all the while, his travel-stained cloak falling open to reveal rather colourful garb beneath.

Zertin grins at Arafarafarfa.

"Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment. I don't know whether us all being brought here really is a curse or just some god's idea of a joke. I look forward to finding some answers and I welcome your company if you decide to remain with us."

He thanks the cook wholeheartedly when he delivers the bowls of stew and tucks into the meal like a man who hasn't eaten in a week, although he certainly doesn't look malnourished.

When he finishes he stands up, picks up his backpack and walks over to talk to the man who spoke up earlier.

"Greetings Randal, my name is Zertin. You spoke earlier of this being some sort of borderland. We would like to speak to whoever would be the most knowledgeable about this place and how we come to be here. Who would you suggest that we should talk to? Is there a senior cleric, wizard or bard in this area who might have some answers?"

Then he notices the bright clothing of the other man nearby.

"In a place like this, Sir, I don't suppose it would be too much of a coincidence for you to be just the man we are seeking?" he asks.

Saeko offers a nod of appreciation to Rogar as he starts writing, waiting patiently until he is done to read it.  "Thank you."  She is about to continue, but stops and turns sharply to the other man.  "Will do for what?" she asks.

"It seems my brother will be spared for now."  Qvar smiles across the table at Violet, acknowledging her preference for peace although he'd always known his brother would never let it come to come to blows.  "You look weary.  Can I help you?"

Violet considers Caesius' question.  Where....

"I'm not completely familiar with this particular area," she notes.  "I've only been here a short time.  But I've been wandering quite a bit.  This place...this...erm, world...seems to have many principalities."  It's not what they're called here, but she forgets that name.  Principalities suits her own history.  "This one is Barovia, if I don't miss my guess.  The one I came from - I'd show you the way, but those cursed mists make it hard to find - was named Nassau.  But we're pretty much just into Barovia, here."

She grimaces.  "I've just been poking around the area.  Getting a feel for it.  And..."  Her lips thin, and finally Violet nods.  "Waiting.  For others like me."

The young woman gestures toward the barbarous, tiny woman (the like of which she, herself, has never seen before).  "She's here for shelter.  Zertin's here because of Qvar.  Qvar...I guess he feels his god -" Heresy, Violet thinks, but it's automatic, not serious "- brought him here to do something.  I don't know what...Lady Saeko -" that seems safest; the woman looks Ryuan, but Violent can't tell a Shivatense from a Lanneten, and doesn't know the honorifics for either to boot "- feels on the matter.  And..."

Her gaze fixes on Caesius.  "You feel we're here for a reason as well.  So...maybe that's the way home - whatever reason."  Closing her eyes, she lets out a long, slow sigh.  "I might be trying to get home, but I'm betting I'm here for a reason as well.  And I think I know what it is, for me."  A small smile touches her lips for an instant.  "I just need to figure out the last detail."

She gives Qvar a short nod in return.  Maybe it's him I'm waiting for.  Maybe not.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:03, Tue 03 Apr 2018.

"Barovia... "  Caesius repeats the name, savouring the flavour of it.  "A strong name.  Doubtless this land is under the sway of a strong ruler, a just and honest man or woman.  One who can be trusted, and who metes out justice with an even hand.  Perhaps we are here to serve under that ruler."

Saeko glances over, but keeps her attention mostly on the brightly-dressed gentleman.  "Our host says this tavern, The Weary Horse, lies between Barovia and Nova Vaasa.  Neither name means anything to me, but it seems we are in either neutral or contested territory," she notes.  She doesn't correct Violet's choice of title, though, so that seems to have passed safely through.

Violet ducks her head, a touch embarrassed at Saeko's (implied) correction.  "He'd know better than I - I heard the name from the mumbles of a madman back in Nass...Nova Vaassa."  They're similar enough, she grants in her head.  Either the lunatic got it wrong, or she did.  Doesn't matter much either way.

Nova Vaassa.  Sounds Southern, to her; to the others, Violet has no idea.

She flicks her gaze toward Caessius.  "I don't serve particularly well," the young woman quietly admits, "so hopefully that's not it."

The man looks a little wary at Zertin's approach but snorts in amusement at the wizard's question.

"You were seeking me ?  Hah !  I was seeking you !" he says in a thick accent.

"Perhaps not you in particular," he allows, dipping his head in response to Saeko, "but for those of your kind."  He looks around the room appraising each of you in turn.

"The village of Barovia is in need of heroes." He shrugs, "You'll do as well as any."

"Here," he reaches into a pocket of his cloak, pulling out a roll of parchment. "This letter is from the Burgomaster ... for you."


OOC: See Main Game Map to view the contents of the letter ...

Ignoring the parchment for the moment, Saeko frowns.  "You were seeking?" she confirms.  "Then it was you who brought us here?  Where I come from, kidnapping is a poor way to ask for help.  I do not doubt your need, but there are those who rely upon us in our own homes as well.  What of them?"

Zertin accepts the roll of parchment and unrolls it to read it to himself first. Then he turns and carries it back to the table where the others wait. There he reads the letter to them.

"Barovia. The worms creep beneath our floors and our streets, they feast on the flesh of our dead. High in the castle, the once lord is no longer, the new lord is not yet, without form, void. All is void and vanity.

"Ireena, Ireena, Ireena! Long have I kept you at my side, long will I keep you close to my heart! Save my Ireena!

"I am the Burgomaster. The Master! Kolyan am I! Soon the worms will feast on me. Come! Do not tarry!"

He looks at the letter again silently then holds it out for whoever else wants to read it themselves.

"It seems we are invited to a feast," he finally decides. "Or a wake, I am not sure which. This Kolyan fellow must be someone important. Not the lord in the castle, obviously, but still someone important. The Burgomaster ... the head chef, perhaps? I wonder who this Ireena is? His wife? His daughter? Well all will be revealed when we get there, I am sure. I hope you are all ready to go straight away. We don't want the feast to go cold!"

Qvar chuckles "Have I been dead that long?  That 'Feast' does not sound appetising at all, Zed."  He reads the scroll for himself then places it on the table for others to pick up.  "In a place as dreary as this, when a brightly dressed person asks for aid then I feel that must be the right path."  He smiles brightly at his brother.  So I agree, we should see this burgomaster."

Zertin nods agreement to Qvar then heads back to the brightly dressed gentleman.

"My brother and I will certainly come with you. If it is not too far away I will change into more suitable clothing. I am afraid I am not familiar with the title of Burgomaster though. Is that a rank of nobility in this place, or a professional position? What would be the appropriate dress code for this occasion? What else should we know before we meet Master Kolyan? Who is this Ireena he is so concerned about? Who is, or was, the lord in the castle that his letter mentions?" he asks.

Qvar takes Zertin's abandoned bowl, with the remnant of his stew, and places it on the floor.  Gingerly he pushes it towards the big cat with his toe.  Belatedly he glances over at Arafarafarfa.  He smiles sheepishly "Mister Whiskers would pounce on me if I tried to leave the table without letting him lick the bowl."

The man shrugs.

"The Burgomaster seemed quite mad to me, yet he paid me well to seek out such as yourselves and give you his letter.  My journeys take me through those lands, but they are not my home and their troubles are not mine."

"Ireena I think is Kolyan's daughter.  As to the rest, I know not."

He snorts. "If I had the power to bring you here, I'd have no need of paltry coin !  I know not how you got here, but I am not respsonsible."

"He is Vistani," Randal speaks up, his tone scornful and accusing, though you get the feeling that he'd not dare voice this opinion if he did not feel you'd protect him should the messenger take offence at this.  "Thieves and vagabonds !"

"Ah," Zertin sighs. "I take it that you cannot advise me on what would be suitable attire for the occasion. Very well then, if he does not specify the required standard of dress then your Burgomaster will have to accept us as we are. Come then, my new friends, and you too Q, let's go see what service Master Kolyan would wish us to perform."

He slips his arms through the straps of his backpack and shrugs it into place on his back.

"Which of you gentlemen will show us the way?" he asks Randal and the Vistani messenger.

"Indeed.  If there is mischief afoot, then the honourable have no choice but to put an end to it, by whatever means prove necessary, and with all possible expediency.  Heironeous will lend His strength to the righteous, and the foes of weal will fall before His might."

Caesius bows his head, eyes blazing, and starts to murmur rapidly with his right fist clenched upon his breast...

Then he raises his head and smiles.  "How are we to find this Burgomaster and offer him our aid?"

Considering the words of the letter, Violet stares into the fire.  The flames seem appropriate, for she finally knows the truth.  The Devil is here.

It is Hell she has found.

For an instant, her hands scrabble uselessly at her belt-pouch.  But there's no point; such a thing isn't for her, cannot protect her from the Devil.  But these men...her gaze slants to them as they speak to one another.  Qvar...heretical follower of a pagan god.  And this man, Caesius; he speaks of Heironeous?  A saint, perhaps?  Or another pagan god?  What does it matter?  Either way, perhaps it is in them she must place trust, against the Devil.

And staying here, in these mists, how is it any better than Purgatory?

"I'll go," she whispers, then repeats herself more loudly.  Slowly, wearily the young woman pushes herself to her feet.  "To help."  Perhaps this is the way she'll redeem herself, Violet muses: helping another lost soul.

Clearly this Burgomaster - master of a burg?  A village?  A mayor, perhaps? - qualifies as such.

Zertin looks around at the others, obviously pleased that most have indicated they will come to meet this Burgomaster Kolyan.

He reaches under his cloak and brings out Louise the weasel again.

"How about you, Louise? Are you ready to meet Master Kolyan?" he asks her, then listens attentively as she chitters back at him. "Yes, I am sure he will have something nice for you to eat," he assures her.

With the weasel resting comfortably against his chest, supported by his left forearm, he looks around the room once more.

"What about you, Arafarafarfa? Will you and your feline friend be coming with us?" he asks.

Qvar smiles at Violet.  "To help others is the best any of us can do."

He takes his untouched cup of wine and crosses the room, stepping past the big cat at the fireplace and pausing to right the toppled stool in the corner, to stand at the table in front of Randal.  "We are all equal under the Sun." he says evenly, but glancing towards the Vistani.  He places the cup on the table and smiles at Randal.  "It may not bring you any relief, but I hope you enjoy it."

Ready to leave, Qvar moves to stand beside his brother.  He is delighted to see Louise come out again and gives her a good scratch behind her ears and under her chin "Youse a wheezy wizard's weasel, yes you are..."

Zertin looks slightly amused by Qvar's baby talk to the weasel.

"Don't blame me if she bites you, Brother," he chuckles. "Though I think you are probably safe. She tends not to chase game that glows in the dark."

Preoccupied with their meals, both Arafarafarfa and her feline friend have remained silent through the events.  It is not until Zertin addresses her that she clears her mouth enough to speak, while Oooh'Awww devours the contents of the abandoned bowl with glee.

"Not first group but fate ride in pocket maybe this time.  Not only survivor again good will be."

A grim smirk tugs at her mouth.

"More fun than here stay."

She makes a kind of clicking noise and gains the attention of the large cat.

"Un'asema nini? Una'taoa owen'tha ouwin'tha?"

The grim smirks turns into a full-blown grin.

The cat rolls his head rapidly, causing his ears to flap noisily and his fur to stand up as a low rumbling growl is more felt than heard.  He then leaps towards the small, in present company, woman and she appears to sweep up on his back as naturally as she would sit down in a chair.

The big cat throws his head back and shrieks and the woman on his back punches the air with a fist as she joins in.  It is hard to tell which one appears more savage.

Violet's eyebrow rise at the sight of the weasel.  Such things are not completely unheard of in her city of birth...but really, are pets of the rich.  She, herself, would have enjoyed having one when she was younger; if it were as well-trained as this 'Louise', it might have been able to help with her thievery, making it worth splitting her meagre food with the beast.

Such things are far behind her, now; gold no longer hold allure.

There's some amusing banter between the brothers, then the tiny savage woman finally deigns to answer...though Violet isn't certain she grasps what the answer entails.  The display a moment later?  Certainly whether or not it is meant to intimidate, it accomplishes just that.  The young woman shrinks in her chair, then slips from it, moving around the table to where the rest of this odd group sits.  Two men without any real weapons...the heathen knight...and the armed and armored woman.  Easy choice; she moves to where Saeko sits, which is further away from the cat to boot.

"Hopefully it's not a problem if I sit here," she murmurs, keeping her eyes upon the great beast and its rider.

Caesius throws back his head and laughs, "By Heironeous' Blade!  It is good to have fallen in with a group who share my conviction that we must lend aid to this... this... Barovia?  And to its Burgomaster."

Growing more solemn, he continues, "As it is written in the Fourteenth Scroll, 'When Darkness rises, He will see to it that the Righteous hear word of it, and find guidance upon their path to confront it in His Eternal Name.'  Has not that happened here, this very day?"

"Indeed, Master Caesius, I think you have the right of it. I truly hope we shall find guidance upon our path. If the price we must pay is to help in the battle against darkness, then that is a price I will happily pay," Zertin tells the paladin.

"I see that Arafarafarfa understands the proper order of things as well as my dear Louise does, too. The male is the beast of burden while the female rides in the place of honour. What about you two, Violet and Saeko? Have you your own mounts outside or will you ride piggyback on Caesius and Qvar? I would never have suggested such a thing in the past but my dear brother does seem much more robust now than I have ever seen him before!"

Saeko, who it may be noted is not sitting, but standing near the bar, gives Violet a small nod of assent when she requests permission to join her.  Zertin's comment draws a puzzled, irritated look, though.  "I have legs," she replies, simply.

Qvar recoils a step or two when the howling starts, his holy glow sputtering out in shock.  He recovers himself when Caesius laughs, his glow flickering back as he marvels at the spectacle.

Zertin's outrageous proposition leaves him agape, stifling a laugh and glancing down at his own skinny frame.  Clearly he is not up to any such task.  Saeko's indignant response suggests she is not amused.  He smiles apologetically at Saeko and Violet then squeezes his brother's shoulder and grins warmly.  "That's the reason I called for you, Zed.  You're so good with people.  You always know exactly the right thing to say."

Pulling over whatever is handy - a stool, a chair - Violet sits next to the clearly standing Saeko, much more at ease in proximity to an armed and armored woman who actually appears sane.  She shrugs at Caesius' conclusion; it's not so far off the truth.  Her eyebrows, however, rise at Zertin's query.

Fortunately, Saeko's answer seems to fit; Violet offers a short nod back at Qvar, indicating lack of offense, and waves a hand toward Saeko.  "She has the right of it."

Joke or no joke, Violet is accustomed to walking.

"Seems we should consider going there, then," she quietly states.  "I'm not...actually in strong need of food."  The young woman is here for the warmth, after all, such as one can receive in this damp, miserable land.

Zertin beams with pride at Qvar's compliment.

"Thankyou, Q. Yes, it is a gift and a useful talent that I am fortunate to possess."

He smiles and nods in acknowledgement of Saeko and Violet's willingness to walk.

"Excellent. We are all ready then. Master Vistani, will you show us the way? And what name should we call you by?" he asks the Burgomaster's messenger.

OOC: Zertin is obviously very proud of his one whole rank of diplomacy skill, which he probably had to work very hard to achieve. It is a skill that most characters never develop at all. ;o)

The Vistani shakes his head, refusing to accompany you.

"I have done what I was paid to do and now my business takes me elsewhere, far from these darkling lands."

"But if you are foolish enough to heed the ravings of a madman ... and will trust the words of a 'thief and vagabond'," he sneers at Randal, "then follow the road westwards - the village is but a day's march away.  There you will find the Burgomaster ... if his madness has not yet consumed him utterly !"  He barks a laugh at the thought.

Randal is somewhat discomfited by the Vistani's attention, but proves to be more helpful.

"I am not a brave man," he admits, "and I've no wish to die again ... if this place is truly the crossing place between life and death ... but I will accompany you and give what help I can."

"Well then, thank you, Master Vistani. I am glad that the Burgomaster paid you well to deliver his message and I wish you a safe journey."

He turned to Randal and slapped his arm around the man's shoulders.

"Thank you too, Master Randal. I am delighted to have you accompany us as I am sure you will make sure we do not get lost along the way. I look forward to hearing more of your own tale and whatever you can tell us of the history of this place and its most notable inhabitants as we walk."

He turned Randal toward the door with his arm still around the man's shoulders and started walking, still talking.

"Did you just say that you have died before? My brother says the same thing, don't you Q? I've not had that experience yet, or at least I don't think I have. I hope it won't distress you too much to tell us about your experience as we travel ..."

Zertin halts as soon as he opens the door and looks outside, if he does indeed get that far at all.

"Ah, yes, I remember now. It is after sunset already, isn't it? Shall we meet here in the morning for breakfast and set out after we have eaten?" he suggested to Randal. "Unless there is anything you think we should know tonight so we can make preparations for what we might need to deal with tomorrow?"

The man from Surd shakes his head.  "I'll tell my tale, though it is a poor one ."

"But aye, there is something you should know before you seek your beds ..."

"This place," he looks to the Dwarf behind the bar for a moment, his lips tightening, "here tomorrow never comes.  Ever we sit in the failing light awaiting a morning that does not dawn."

"Take what rest you can ... but wait not on the day that ne'er will be."

"Thank you, Randal. That sounds like good advice, to get a good night's sleep while we can. When we are all rested that will be soon enough to face a night that never ends."

He turns back to join the other newcomers again.

"Does anyone have anything else they wish to do or to discuss before we seek our beds?" he asked.

Sö... daylight never comes here. Caesius muses.  He glances at Qvar.  He. at least , might be able to correct that situation.  He is, apparently, beloved of his own god.

"Time may be of the utmost import.  The missive seemed to imply some urgency.  If morning will not come, then we gain nothing by waiting for it."

"The missive implied madness," Saeko says, turning and rolling up her paper again, putting the inks and quill away with practiced precision.  "And the nameless Vistani is correct; to follow it is foolishness."

Turning back around, she lets her bag settle over her shoulder.  "But someone must be foolish so that others need not.  For the sake of this Ireena, I will go, and I see no need to linger over a decision already made."

Qvar's mouth drops open as he looks at Caesius.  "Never?  That's not good..."  he wrestles with the earth-shattering revelation that the sun will not rise and burn away the mists, eventually managing a determined grimace of a smile "...but we'll just have to make the best of it."

"I don't know about the rest of you but I walked all day to reach this place. The village is another day's march to the west, according to our Vistani messenger. I cannot manage another full day's walk without resting first," Zertin pointed out.

"You'll not sleep," Randel puts in, apologetically.  "You'll be tired ... but grow no tireder.  Sleep won't come."

He shrugs. "It is the way of things here."

"Oh, so we really are in a different world now?" Zertin finally concedes. "Alright then, I suppose we might as well start walking straight away. Perhaps you were right after all, Caesius, that there is nothing to be gained by waiting."

OOC: It will be interesting to see how that affects the normal rules about clerics praying for spells once a day at a particular time of day and wizards requiring 8 hours of rest before preparing new spells to replace those that have been cast. That's not a problem at this stage as spellcasters would still be almost fully stocked with spells at this stage of the adventure.

The paladin of Heironeous breaks into a broad grin.  "Splendid!  The sooner we start on our way, the sooner this evil can be ended."  He pauses thoughtfully, then adds, "Since I have my own mount, perhaps I should ride a little way ahead to strike down any enemies that lurk upon the road?"

OOC: DM - There has been mention of "the failing light" and mists "making it hard to see much of anything through the darkening forest that marches alongside the road". What is the lighting condition outside now? Is it officially a low light condition where we (humans and halflings in particular) cannot see beyond the low light range of our light sources, or is it a bit better than that allowing us to see somewhat even without a light source?

"That's just in the borders," Violet murmurs.  "The...sleep thing.  Also, not eating."  She hasn't eaten a thing since she arrived in this area, and is none the worse for it.  "Sleep and hunger will return when we leave the border," she states.  It's a guess, mind, but it follows with the other borders and situations she has encountered since wandering out of Chaville to...whatever hell this is.

"I'm ready to go now," she states, picking up her scuffed and battered pack.

With Randal and Violet's assurances ... and under the mocking gaze of the Vistani, you take your leave of the Inn, Caesius quickly checking his mount's tack and harness as you set off, following the path westwards ...

Continued in Ravenloft - Barovia.


OOC: In game terms, the failing light and fog does not hamper normal vision
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:34, Mon 14 May 2018.