"I would not be so swift to rule magic out," Ashlyn suggests to Caesius as she examines the window herself, peering out at the grounds below.

The warrior-woman is equally pleased that the priest of Pelor might repair the damage wrought upon her sword.

At Zertin's explanation as to what has transpired, Ireena's panicked hand goes to her neck, though the young woman's fears are somewhat calmed by the mage's assurance that she has not been bitten again.

Qvar's utters a prayer over Saeko and swiftly discovers that the Daughter of the Wind has indeed been poisoned, though thankfully he is able to easy Violet's concern, with his surmise that the effects should be neither fatal nor long lasting.

Both Ashlyn and Caesius gratefully accept the priest's offer to repair their blades etched by demon's blood, a  matter which is quickly dealt with over the utterance of a simple orison.

Zertin looks around at the gathering then finally speaks up.

"Well then, my friends. As soon as Saeko is recovered we should make a start on our next task. If you want to make any preparations before we visit the castle on its mountainous peak, that may be a good way to fill the time before we leave," he suggested.

"How soon do you think she will recover?" he asks Qvar.

"Its a potent sleeping draught, like the Dark Elves use in our world, which should wear off about 8 hours after drinking, and then Saeko will be quite herself again." Qvar reports.  He has not found any other traces of the poison within the mansion and can only speculate what could have induced Saeko to drink it  ... his mind goes to the master of the castle on its mountainous peak ... and he also would not be so swift to rule magic out.  But he smiles reassuringly at Zertin and Violet and moves off to heal the steel then outside to complete his joyful ritual of prayer to the the unseen but heartfelt Sunrise ... leaving the front door open should anyone wish to bring their breakfast outside and join him.  That done, he's fairly bursting with sunshine and ready to visit the castle, as Zertin suggests, when Saeko recovers and all are ready.

"Dark elves?  Drow?" Caesius turns his head to regard Qvar.  "If it is a poison such as they use, then they might dwell here too.  Certainly this eternal night and mist would suit their kind."

"I believe I shall leave Hammer here, if there is a stable nearby?  The confines of the castle might be a little cramped for him, and I'd sooner leave him alone down here than in a monster's nest."

With concern over Saeko eased by Qvar's examination, Zertin's suggestion that everyone make what preparations they need is swiftly taken up.  Fasts are broken while both the priest and Ashlyn go out to the front of the mansion to make their prayers to the sun gods Pelor and Lathander respectively while Violet and Ireena watch over the sleeping form of the Daughter of the Wind.

Meanwhile, Randall leads Hammer down to The Blood on the Vine tavern off the town square where he might enjoy the comfort of the stables during your quest.

At length Saeko rouses, and though still a little groggy from the aftereffects, and with no memory as to how she was poisoned, her resolve is unshaken and she insists on her readiness to accompany you.

Final preparations made, and made more wary by Caesius's notion that Drow might frequent these lands of mist and shadow and pose yet another threat, you set out.

A strong wind blows (though perversely seems unable to disperse the mists) turning what might otherwise be but light rain to a freezing sleet that lashes you intermittently, making the going both slow and unpleasant, though at least the inclement weather serves to keep trouble away.

You pass the crossroads, taking the higher, western route past Lysaga Hill once more that the signpost marks as the way to Castle Ravenloft, following the road's twists and turns as it climbs steeply till you come out of the tree line to a view that might, in better circumstances, be considered beautiful.

Draped in a cloak of mist, you look up at a waterfall which plummets over a high cliff carved from the shoulders of the mountains.  Before you, a dizzying height above the river that runs below is a stone bridge.

Zertin studied the view and had to admit the beauty of it. But he did not let the magnificent scenery distract him. He looked for any sign of guards or hazards on or beneath the bridge before they set foot upon it.

"If we were kids, there would probably be a troll hiding beneath the bridge to leap out and eat us," he chuckled, making a light-hearted reference to the tale of the three billy goats gruff to lighten the mood of the party.

OOC: Zertin rolled 20 using 1d20+4.  Spot check.

Pleased that the lady has risen from her drugged slumber none the worse - save perhaps for a painful reminder in her head - and with no real comprehension of what these 'drow' might be, Violet heads out with the others.

'Dark' elves?  Are there any other kind of Fae?

Regardless of potential scenery, she remains wary and alert, eyes open and ears perked for any threats.  In a way, the mist is comforting; it conceals them as much as it might any ambush.  Or it would, Violet is forced to admit, if the demonic beings of this hell saw with mortal eyes.

She's all-too-convinced this is not the case.

As they approach the bridge, she keeps an arrow on her bow.  Zertin's comment regarding trolls beneath bridges garners a thin smile from the woman.  She is unfamiliar with the story he references, but gets the gist of it regardless.  And trolls...well, should one step out, towering, horned, and three-eyed, she would be sure to greet it in an appropriate manner.

Retreat, and loosing arrows, most likely.

"What are these...drow of which you have spoken?" she quietly inquires.

"Drow?" Zertin muses thoughtfully.

"There are a number of different types of elves. Different branches of the elvish family tree, I suppose you could say. You would be most likely to meet high elves, as they are the most likely to interact on friendly terms with humans like us. The gray elves are more aloof and reserved - you might call them the most noble, if you are not put off by their manner. Wood elves, or sylvan elves as they are sometimes called, are a little less sophisticated but generally wouldn't trouble you as long as you are not seen as a threat to the forests where they live. You remember the elves that stopped us in the forest and their leader who guided us to the heart of the forest? They were wood elves. Then there are wild elves who might be considered the barbarians of elvenkind. There are even elves who live in the sea, called aquatic elves.

"The drow are the dark elves. If the others are branches of the elvish family tree, you might think of drow as the roots of that tree. They dwell in deep caverns, speak a language of their own, worship evil deities and demons, and hate sunlight because their eyes are adapted to the perpetual darkness of their subterranean home."

Caesius nods, frowning, "Aye, their gods are gods of murder, deceit, cruelty, and treachery.  And those are the kindest among them.  The drow regard all other peoples as inferiors, fit only to be enslaved or killed, or both."

"It is well for surface dwellers that they prefer to stay below, and rarely raid the sunlit lands."

"Heironeous charges that his followers watch for their presence, as well as that of illithids, duergar, and other vile creatures of the Underdark, and put an end to their wicked schemes."

Violet stares at the two speakers with slow-growing horror.  There are...different kinds of faerie elves?  They live...everywhere in their lands?  Even under the ocean?  And they are on friendly - or at least neutral - terms with humanity?

And then the dark elves, these drow.

"Thank you, Zertin," she answers in a faint voice.  "That is most detailed.  And yourself, Sir Caesius.  I have no doubt that...Heironeous speaks against these dark elves.  I would rather not encounter their evil, myself.  Nor the evil of the others you speak of."

She hasn't seen anything of the like, at least until she came to Hell; all of the evil in Violet's past belonged to men and women.

It seems to her that the dark elves are likely the more honest of the lot of devil-spawn, Violet ponders.  But she doubts that the others will feel that way.  Perhaps she should keep those thoughts to herself.

Perhaps, part of her wonders, things are different elsewhere; or perhaps, comes a dark whisper from deep inside, she believes wrongly.

Distracted with marvelling at the scenery,  Qvar has only half an ear on the conversation. Surely this waterfall will look lovely ... sparkling ... when the Sunshine breaks through...

Still smiling from his daydream, he shrugs and seeks to elucidate. "The sleeping draught was like to the Drow poison, as an example that we've all heard of, potent but not lethal. I never met any dark elves in Glanquin, or any poisoners for that matter, except a few farmers slowly poisoning their livers with the drink." He chuckles but his laugh falls flat in the surrounding gloom, and he glances self-consciously at his companions. He notices Violet's look and hurries on. "Well, lets hope there are no dark elves about. The bridge looks sturdy enough... stone. Shall we go on?"

He sets off across the bridge, his wooden staff tapping solidly on the stones.

Though the discussion of the various sub-branches of Elven stock does little to quell Violet's fears, the young woman remains calm and polite in the face of Zertin's explanation and the additional information provided by Caesius and Qvar, keeping those qualms to herself.

E'en so, she maintains a vigil lest any such creatures or, perhaps more welcome, others such as trolls might lie in ambush.

As Zertin casts a searching eye over the bridge and the starkly magnificent landscape in which it is situated, Qvar begins to cross, using his staff to test the stones at his feet, lest the realities of hitherto unseen crumbling mortar prove more of a hazard than creatures but imagined ...

"More like you will find ghosts than trolls or Elves," the Burgomaster's daughter offers.

"For all their beauty, the Tser falls and the pool below which they feed into are named to commemorate a terrible tragedy.  It is said that a century ago, a Barovian villager named Tsertsimir Bobrishchev leaped over the falls to his death, driven by grief at the death of his lover.  His body was found in the pool just downstream, and his nickname is now the name by which both the falls and the pool are known."

"A sad tale ..."

Qvar listens quietly to Ireena's sad tale.  When she's done he smiles back at her.  "It feels right that you remember him so."

He presses on across the bridge.  "It seems quite safe!" he calls back optimistically.  "No elves.  Or trolls.  Or ghosts."

OOC: hope i'm not setting him up to be the fall guy.

The armoured warrior does not share Qvar's optimism, though her faith requires her to look upon the bright side.

"I doubt many on this path call upon the master of the castle uninvited," she muses. "Still, let perils come as they may that we might rid these lands of their evil."

Zertin pauses on the bridge long enough to point out a steep and narrow path that leads down the high cliff, finishing near the base of the waterfall.

"I wonder who made that treacherous little path down there, and why? Perhaps that is a mystery we might explore on another day," he muses.

"Paths are, in my experience, only created when the route is followed many times, or by many feet." Caesius responds, peering down to the bottom of the precipice, "Somebody thought that whatever lays down there was worth visiting.  Or that it was a good place from which to ascend the cliff.  Either way, the path may be worth investigating."

He turns away.

"For now, though, we have an appointment with the monster, and I, for one, would not be late."

"Neither late nor early," Violet murmurs.  "Hurrying may bring problems of its own, and paths might be walked both ways by many feet."  She grimaces down at the pathway Zertin indicates.  "We must be wary of our rearguard - something might travel up that route, and fall in behind us."

At which point they would be caught between hammer and anvil, but she keeps that part to herself - it's a safe guess everyone has figured that out, anyway.

Continuing, she again keeps her eyes and ears open for any hints of impending disaster, be it falling bridges or the Undying.

While none choose to pursue what mysteries or dangers afforded by the cliff-side trail, still all are doubly wary as you cross the bridge and continue along the road as it meanders first west then north, following the contours of the land, till the way ahead branches.

East lies the masters castle, high up in crags, though it be hidden in the mists, while to the north west you can make out a pair of high stone pillars, grey in the fog, looming up from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, twins of those that lie far to the east of here, on the other side of the town, where first you entered these cursed lands.

Taking in a long breath, Violet stares up toward the cliffs.  It's easy to imagine the castle, a looming monolith peering down into the mists and perhaps seeing through them from its vantage point.  Seeing through the mists to them.  Wincing, she switches her gaze to the pathway East.

"Would seem we go that way."  One eyebrow cocks.  "I assume there are no objections..."  Her tone indicates she would rather there are.  Even so, with a small shrug the young woman begins along the path to the East.

Provided there are, in fact, no objections.

"None at all."  Qvar smiles at Violet.  He seems pleased with progress thus far.  If he were a whistler, he'd whistle.  But fortunately he's not.  He paces along next to Zertin enjoying the view and imagined Sunshine.

Randal eyes the stone pillars thoughtfully, finally shaking his head.

"I doubt we'd be allowed to leave anyway," he states sourly, turning his gaze eastwards and upwards.

Zertin chuckles.

"Not to mention that it would be awfully rude to even think of leaving before we pay our respects to the Master of the Castle," he jokes.

You continue on, following the twisting road as it follows the contours of the land, climbing ever higher.  After passing through the craggy peaks at what seems to be a pass, the road straightens, heading south-east as it descends, the startling presence of Castle Ravenloft towering before you.

OOC: Continued in Ravenloft - Castle Ravenloft ...