Violet is content to let others take the lead, should they so desire.  If any ask her, she will do so herself, without hesitation.  But it seems the knight and small tiger-rider are more than happy to do so; thus, she follows.

She studies the structure they approach, frowning.  This land, its strange mists and dank air...it reminds her of something she knows.  "Moth," the young woman whispers, and shakes her head.  It is, but isn't; best she not assume things are the same here as they are outside of hell.

The allusion passes over her head, and she's not much in the mood for jokes.  Instead, the young woman draws out her short, recurved bow, stringing it expertly in the saddle and nocking an arrow.  Still loose, mind, but prepared.

"I suppose we should enter," she hazards, studying the gate.

As Arafarafarfa rides close on Oooh'Awww, Caesius reaches out and pats Hammer on the side of the neck.  "All is well.  They're friends." he murmurs, and the heavy horse calms perceptibly.

When they reach the gate, he studies it for a long moment as they open, seemingly of their own volition.  "It appears that we are welcome." he announces,  "Though whether that is a good thing still remains to be seen."

The smile on his face suggests that he would be happy, whatever the outcome.  He urges his mount forward...

Saeko gives Zertin a faintly puzzled look, glancing at the statue to see if, perhaps, its name is given at the base.  Shaking her head slightly, she joins Caesius in walking through the gates, striding along the center of the road.

Qvar walks beside Zertin, his his glow making a small pool of golden light in the mist around the pair.  The sombre mood does little to dispel the disquieting thought that the Sun may never rise again, and he constantly studies the gloomy sky for any sign of change... or moths, following Violet's the cryptic remark.  The only other distraction comes from his pleasure in watching the shadowy forms of the beasts and their handlers on the road ahead: the lissome union of cat-and-woman, and the powerful connection of the paladin to his charger.

His brother's merry mood at the pillars finally lifts his spirits again.  "The right path will open before us." he breathes, marvelling at this welcome change in their fortunes.  His glow momentarily brightens the rusty gates and glistens the dew as he walks through.

In this company of heroes ... Randal finds himself more comfortable in Violet's company than in that of any of the others, finding her natural caution more in tune with his own fears than the brazenly confident approach of his other companions.

As most of the others continue valiantly on, the man from Surd hangs back with the young woman and the wizard as they regard the gates and statues, nervously loosening the knife in its sheath at his belt.

Violet blinks several times as the others enter.  Well, she hadn't seen anything too untoward, barring the rusty locks.  And the magical opening of the gates.  Magic...clearly her companions have familiarity with such, but why should Violet worry about the state of her soul -- or theirs -- now?

They're already in Hell.

Qvar's optimism garners a lopsided smile from the young woman, but the shimmering light playing from his body keeps her back.  Blessed...cursed...hard to say, thus far, though she's leaning toward the former despite his belief in a pagan god.  Once again, her hand slips to her pouch for an instant -- the other holding bow and arrow in place -- before returning to lightly grip fletched ash.  "Figure this is your last chance to turn back, Randal," she whispers, almost to herself.

He won't.

She doesn't have a choice, really; it's this, or spend endless time seated before a fire.  At least by following these people, she has a chance of doing some good, of finding what she has been possibly-maybe sent to find, of grasping at some kind of redemption for a paltry life of desperate, hungry thievery.

And someone needs to bear witness to the stories of heroes.

Her boots take her forward in near silence, and she strains both ears and eyes to pick out any possible danger before it falls upon them.

"Yes, I think you have a good point there, Louise," Zertin says thoughtfully to the little weasel in his hands. "It is very odd that someone would so carefully cut the heads off those statues then just leave the heads where they fell. What's that you say? Put them back on again? Oh, no, I think we should just let severed heads lie, at least until we know who we might offend by disturbing them."

"That's diplomacy, you see," he tells Louise, tapping the side of his nose with one finger in a very meaningful way.

His boots crunch audibly in a patch of loose gravel on the road as he hurries to catch up to his profoundly enlightened brother.

Violet and Zertin finally join the rest of you, Randall hurrying to keep pace with them, fearful of being left behind. 

As the pair reach you a sound from behind causes you all to turn back, just in time to witness the gates slam shut with a loud clang that echoes in the stillness.

"And that's security!" Zertin tells Louise as they watch the gates slam shut behind them.

He doesn't hesitate long before resuming his walk toward their intended destination.

Violet slowly turns and regards the closed gates.  Somehow, not unexpected.  She could scale the wall...but a sneaking suspicion lurks that something would stop her.  And to what end would she make the attempt?

She came here to enter, not to flee.

"No sense waiting around," the young woman murmurs, continuing her slow advance.

Caesius spares the closed gate a brief glance, then urges his mount forward, along the road into Barovia.  Their goal lies ahead, not behind.  To his mind, they are on the right side of the gate, so why would they need to go back.

"Randal!" he calls out, "What can you tell us of Barovia?  Of the village itself?  What sort of place is it?  Is there a militia, or a fortress that we may defend?"

Qvar walks quietly beside his brother, unwearied by the long march but still hoping to see the light of dawn.  He gives Louise a scratch behind the ears when she comes out of Zed's cloak.

Randal nods slowly in agreement with Violet, though he takes the sudden closing of the gate in less good humour than the rest of you.

"I fear whatever power now rules these lands does not wish us to leave," the man from Surd murmurs fearfully, even as he hurries onwards, so as not to be left lagging behind.

"I've not been here before," he admits, "and while the villagers would infrequently call in at the Weary Horse, it has been a while since we've seen any but the cursed Vistani come east upon this road."

"From what I've heard, the village itself is little more than a farming community, though it has a trading store and a church ... to the god Lathander, if that name means anything to you ?"

"I believe there is a castle somewhere nearby, but it may have been abandoned long ago."

"Lathander? Hmm, sounds vaguely familiar," Zertin mutters thoughtfully as they trudge along the road.

"Old castles are usually very interesting to explore and very often they turn out to be the best or, at least, the most obvious place to start investigations when there is no better information to guide one," he adds. "I find myself becoming more and more curious about what he is going to say."

Violet shrugs.  The name means nothing to her; but then, none of the names of these pagan gods hold any weight to the young woman.  There's no denying their power, here; Qvar's unceasing aura is like nothing she has ever seen.

"Such is the way of Hell," she sighs in response to Randal's concerns.  "Easy to fall in, nigh-impossible to crawl out."  Not that it's going to stop her from trying.

"Yes!  Lathander, The Morninglord."  Qvar nods cheerfully at this news from Randal.  "Pelor's face that shines upon this land.  I would like to visit this church.  I'm sure we'll receive a warm welcome there."  He beams at his companions.

"Oh yes, I remember now. You woke me up at some ungodly hour of the morning to tell me all about him after you returned from that summer solstice dawn service when we were teenagers," Zertin groaned at his brother's enthusiasm.

Riding along the road, Caesius considers the name Lathander.  Qvar seems somewhat familar with it, and Zertin too (possibly because the name was mentioned to him by his brother).  Caesius has never heard it before - to the best of his knowledge, it's not one of Oerth's myriad deities.

And as a paladin he is taught about potential allies and enemies.

"If Lathander be a deity of light, as Qvar says, then the church may provide us with a safe haven."

Saeko continues walking, quietly looking ahead.

You continue down the road, as your path turns southwards, the tall trees looming either side and the grey mists swirling about you, as you discuss the likelihood of finding aid at the church of Lathander. 

And then the trees gradually give way to a clearing, and through the ever shifting fog you can make out the vague outline of buildings, perhaps two hundred and fifty paces distant as the way turns westwards once more ...

"Randal, are we here now? Are these buildings the house of the burgomaster or the church of Lathander?"  Qvar peers eagerly into the mist.

"He's never been here before," Saeko reminds Qvar.  "There is but one way to find out."

She increases her pace a bit, making for the vague shapes of buildings.  "Why is the wall so far from the town?" she asks the others, curiously, looking about to see if we're passing through farming plots or if, perhaps, the town used to be bigger.  "It seems it would leave the wall only more difficult to defend.  Do all plainsfolk build this way?"

"I've no idea." Qvar chuckles in reply to Saeko's questions.  "I lived my whole life in one village, and no one there had a wall meant to defend against anything more sinister than foxes - and the foxes weren't ever bothered by those walls anyhow.  Only the hounds could keep foxes out."

Emboldened by the armoured woman's lead, he grabs Zertin's arm and follows Saeko towards the buildings.  Picking up their earlier conversation  "You wanted me to visit you in the City, Zed.  Any you couldn't understand and why I stayed in Glanquin.  Then when I showed you, you slept through the best bits!"  He grins at the memory.

OOC: just edited village name to Glanquin ...
This message was last edited by the player at 01:19, Sun 03 June 2018.

"The church should be easy to recognise. Lathander's symbol of a sunrise is probably plastered all over it," Zertin suggests. "As for the burgomaster's house, it is probably the largest house in the town, so should be easy enough to find as well. As for those gates back there, I suspect they mark the extent of the local lord's landholdings, although by the way they opened and closed on their own I suspect they may be more than merely symbolic."

He increases his pace to match Saeko's but retorts over his shoulder to Qvar, "That sleep was the best bit!"

Pacing behind the group, Violet smiles faintly.  "The wall is far from the town because it isn't part of the town," she explains.  Granted, said explanation doesn't go a long way, so she quietly expands.  "These lands..."  Hells.  "They have borders.  And every border has some kind of...demarcation.  Cairns.  Walls.  Gates.  Gorges with bridges.  Something that must be passed through in order to enter another land or place between lands, like the inn we just left."

She gestures about them, still following as the group makes their way toward the buildings.  "When we went through the gates, I would hazard we entered 'Barovia'."