Guryerovich Winery



At Rosvetta’s request, the party left town to check upon the vineyard.  Upon the approach, longtime foreman Davian Martikov was found crucified in a copse of trees outside the winery building.  Sensing danger, the group took up combat positions to explore the winery building, advancing through the loading dock where a wagon was already loaded with wine.  Kailute is in front, with Quilro and DonBrapp close behind.  The rest of the party, including Pyotr and Fyrnlocke are in the loading area, while Tomas and Rosvetta are just outside the loading dock toward the front of the building.

Directly in front of Kailute to the south, a stiff and awkward human stands, peering at him with blank unnaturally black eyes with bright red pupils.  The creature moves stiffly as if to attack.  The sound of further scuffling and the scent of fermenting grapes come from the west.

DonBrapp steps forward with his holy symbol and Buzzkiller as he protects himself from negative material creatures.  Quilro steadies himself anxious with nervous energy.  Kailute warily respects the presence of energy draining creatures.

The dwarf thrusts his holy symbol forward as the elf strains his hearing to alert the group to other threats.  Only the sounds of shuffling are apparent.  DonBrapp encounters a freshly dead walking corpse in the livery of the Guryerovich house guard that radiates strong negative energy.

The dwarf swings Buzzkiller, initiating the battle to clear the winery of undead monsters.  Quilro leaps forward with his moonblade to support as Kailute looses a rare axe that misses its target and grazes the elf from behind.

In a striking failure of invoking Vergadain’s favor, DonBrapp attracts all the undead to his person in a strange inversion of holy power.

Quilro quaffs some wine and offers Rosvetta a swig.  She declines, clearly concerned for the battle and her former staff.

A putrifying zombie joins the fight from the room to the west, disgusting all the living combatants.  Room by room, the heroes clear the winery of undead minions.  Kailute executes a series of devastating attacks and ridiculous blunders.  Rosvetta and Pyotr grieve over the horrifying loss and unholy transformation of so many of their former companions and guardians.  Horrible melding wolf-human joinlings assist the fell undead, adding another layer of dread to an already disturbing situation.

In a feat of raw strength and agility Kailute pulls himself to balcony overlooking the fermentation vats to a position of advantage.

Pyotr engages in despairing battle with his former houseguards who have no mercy upon him.
In an rolling battle of spectacular hits and disastrous fumbles the party finishes off the undead infestation.  Suffering multiple wounds, the clerics tend to those who do not ingest healing potions.

Evidence found in the winery suggests Strahd’s Chamberlain Rahadin has directed exclusive wine shipments to Heliogabalus the capital city of Damara, particularly to the Baron Dimian Ree of Morov.  The joinlings display the aura of magical constructs, and it appears some of Strahd’s vampiric minions have the unique power to walk within the light of day.

Rosvetta, Pyotr and their retainers mourn the fallen Martikov family while the heroes discuss their strategy for Castle Ravenloft.

The party returns to the tavern, and Kailute apologizes to Gertrude for not meeting her sooner.  He asks and receives a love worn doll as an item close to the child.

The companions review the mysterious fortunes told them by Madam Eva and discuss different approaches for contending with Baron Strahd.  The consensus is to proceed under the guise of a trade mission from Hillsfar and negotiate some better outcome to the people of Barovia.
DonBrapp gathers his sacred water and uses the holy font to scry what he can about Castle Ravenloft.  He further directs the blacksmith and Sieben to create missiles full of holy water, oil and silver balls.

Kailute fashions two bladders of holy water that can be used to spray and the cleric distributes garlic as a protection.  Dagnar shares some lore of vampiric undead and known ways to counter their cunning wiles.  DonBrapp gives Dagnar a Zhent magical longsword from the original raid.

After exhausting their healing the group studies its spells and settles in to rest.

6 Nightal – On To Ravenloft

In the morning DonBrapp distributes his flaming holy concoctions to Dagnar and Delvaryn.
Shortly after noon an unearthly looking human warrior in blood red livery marked with the sigil of a scarlet raven upon a black three spired castle approaches the blood of the vine.  Aside from his tabard, he is armored with banded mail and carries a broadsword at his hip.  Both armor and weapon appear aged and relatively uncared for.   Once a human warrior of power, his skin is now yellowed and taught, and red pinpoints mark where his pupils once were.  He walks in silently, making no more noise than the rustling of leaves.  He carries a scroll tube encased in blood red leather.  Walking straight to the bar, he drops the tube upon the bar and hisses in an ethereal voice “Emissaries of Hillsfar.”  Moving with robotic jankiness, he turns and makes for the door.

The note reads:

Your Excellencies,
  It is my deepest honor to host your entreaties to Barovia in Castle Ravenloft.  I shall send a carriage at three hours past noon.  I look forward with eagerness to discussing matters of trade to our mutual benefit.  Please arrive appropriately dressed for dinner and commercial entreaties.
Your eternal servant,
Strahd von Zarovich

“This appears to be regular in form, and authentic.” DonBrapp declares solemnly, adding the scroll and the red leather tube to his backpack.

Ireena has returned, composed and better rested.  This only adds to her superior beauty.  Delvaryn pledges his servitude as long as he is within the borders of Barovia, and declares “Torm would never submit to such barbaric customs.”

“Ah, but Torm is a lord of order and law, is he not?”  Ismark asks rhetorically.

“I have no interest in whatever lies within those walls, but if you insist I accompany you I shall do so.  My preference is to wait here, and if needs be…  depart my homeland forever rather than acquiesce to a union I neither want nor think would be safe for me.”
“Many arranged marriages have found love…”  Quilro comments, to the dark looks of Ireena.
DonBrapp suggests the offering of an appropriate gift to Strahd to open discussions with the unspoken understanding that any “gifts” would be recovered after a successful plunder of the castle.  The dwarf offers up his phylactery as the proposed offering.

“How many humans must die before your selfish resistance is softened?”  Kailute asks Ireena on the side.

Horrified the young lady responds “After all the deaths of my friends and villager, YOU BLAME ME?”

“There is no justice here, and Strahd is the reason for all this death.  All I ask is you join us in the hope we can negotiate an outcome beneficial to all…”

“What advantage does my presence bring that heroes such as yourselves cannot muster?
“There have been murders for days.  You will not escape Barovia without the Baron tracking you.”

Quilro interjects, “How about this;  if you accompany us we swear to protect you and will not leave the castle alive without you.”

Ireena dejectedly responds “I will not join you.  But I will abide by whatever agreement you achieve if it will deliver relief from the horrors of the night to my neighbors.”

After uncomfortable discussions, the group agrees to allow Ireena to remain in town while the companions entreat with Baron Strahd.

Quilro provides Delvaryn a potion of vitality and tells him “Stay close to me and we’ll get out of this gods forsaken rockpile alive.”

At the appointed hour, as the sun is already masked by the mountains to the west a large carriage arrives, big enough to easily sit eight in comfort.  A formally dressed driver in black wool coat, with his collar pulled up around his neck and a tall round stovepipe hat atop his head holds the reins of two enormous destriers, both stomping and chomping at the bit.  Turning, his red eyes pierce each of the party before his hisses “Baron Strahd has sent for your excellencies the emissaries of Hillsfar.”

The group enters the carriage.  The inside is rich and well appointed, if just a bit musty smelling.

As the carriage rolls along the roads, the snow covered fields turn to shrubs until the forest envelops the road past the river bridge.

Quilro checks for secret traps, observing the doors will not open from the inside and scratch marks on the right door handle.

The carriage moves at quite a speed for the terrain, but the wheels and springs beneath buffer much of the shock and the ride is comfortable.

Past the Guryerovich winery and the surrounding woods, the road becomes much steeper ascending into the Galena mountains.  A steep switchback offers a view of the village below, and a smattering of lights appear where when you arrived there was only darkness.
After two hours of travel, the road drops away and the carriage crosses an ornate stone bridge.  From the right side of the carriage, the three spires of Castle Ravenloft can be seen as the moon shines bright upon it.  Dark clouds moving south obscure the stars and suggest the imminent arrival of snowfall.

The final stretch of forest is cloaked in a darkness that is almost impenetrable.  Delvaryn fidgets uncomfortably and complains of a low grade headache the bothers him the entire way.
After passing through a valley of craggy peaks, the road makes a sudden turn west and the imposing presence of Castle Ravenloft towers above you.  Twin guardhouses of turreted stone, broken from years of use and exposure stand before you.  Through the entry, a 50’ precipice falls from cliffs into a chasm of dizzying depths.  A lowered drawbridge of old wooden beams hangs between you and the arched entrance to the courtyard.  Snow and ice spot the wooden bridge, and from the high walls of the keep stone gargoyles peer down seeming to stare at the group from their hollowed sockets.

Beyond the courtyard, the main doors of the castle stand open.  A warm light spills from them.  Torches flutter sadly in sconces on both sides of the open doors.  High above the doors a muted light flickers in a large round window.

“Keep your eyes peeled…  for evil.”  Kailute states.

“This whole damned place reeks with evil.”  Delvaryn responds.

Quilro advances into the entry foyer, and DonBrapp follows.  Fyrnlocke inspects the flanking towers in the outer courtyard.  The towers house the machinery operating the drawbridge and portcullis.   The party attempts to secure the equipment from moving, but is unable to get it to respond.

Frustrated with a lack of greeting DonBrapp marches toward the open doors, where a second set of double doors await, closed.  The dwarf knocks loudly, and the doors swing open.  Overhead, in the vaulted entry foyer, four statues of dragons glare down, their eyes flickering in the torchlight.

Moving beyond the initial foyer the party enters a large octagonal hall supported by four columns and eight gargoyles mounted on a ledge below the domed roof.  A wide marble staircase exits to the north, double doors to the east and the hallway continues to the south.  The gargoyles do not appear to moved recently.

A pale gray skinned elf in banded mail, armed with a scimitar and his black hair pulled into a tight ponytail stands upon the stairs.

“Welcome, fair and honorable ambassadors of Hillsfar.  Unless my eyes deceive, Maalthiir has reversed course on his opinion of our eldest and higher race of folk?”

The elf introduces himself as Strahd’s chamberlain, Rahadin.

“Maalthiir has reversed course permanently.” The dwarf retorts.

“Lord Strahd, the Baron awaits all of you in the dining hall.  He has had his huntsman slay the choicest stag of the mountains, and his kitchen staff have outdone themselves in delectable offerings.  I am sure it is a dinner none of you will ever forget!”
The elf beckons the group south toward two large doors to the south through which all can hear sad and majestic organ music.

“The lord seeks to entertain you all before dinner.”  Rahadin remarks.

“One of the many sophisticated delights the Baron has brought to Castle Ravenloft to enjoy.  The Baron enjoys a unique advantage here, and the entire Moonsea could be his were the bloodstone mines reopened.”

“Lord Rahadin, what do you know of the attacks on my vineyard?”  Pytor asks.

“There have been some changes to management, Pyotr.  Perhaps the Baron will discuss them with you.”  The elf turns and opens the door as Kailute enters.

The enthusiastic wail of organ music sounds from down the hall.  At the far end, a figure is bent over the keys of an large pipe organ, fiercely bringing forth a melody denoting enormous energy with undertones of dark melancholy.  After a full 90 seconds, the music rises to a crescendo and then ceases.  All is still.

Without turning, the figure in a formal black cloak straightens and in a clear voice from over his shoulder states:  “Welcome, most heralded emissaries of Hillsfar.  Your victories and exploits have echoed even over the tallest of Galena peaks.”

Clapping Quilro says “It is an honor to be here.  Thank you for having us.”

Three enormous crystal chandeliers brilliantly illuminate this magnificent chamber. Pillars of stone stand against dull white marble walls, supporting the ceiling. In the center of the room, a long, heavy table is covered with a fine white satin cloth. The table is laden with many delectable foods: roasted beast basted in a savory sauce, roots and herbs of every taste, and sweet fruits and vegetables. Places are set for each of you with fine, delicate china and silver. At each place is a crystal goblet filled with an amber liquid with a delicate, tantalizing fragrance.

Putting one leg over the other, the form turns revealing an ageless human male, pale skin highlighted by the pure white shirt and blood red scarf tied around his high collar.  He pulls the cape around him in a flourish.

“Welcome to Castle Ravenloft.  I hope you find the meal before you as satisfying as that which one can squeeze from the Blood on the Vine.  I have asked our humble staff to ensure the freshest of ingredients, and the eldest of vintages be presented in honor of your arrival.”

“A fine welcome indeed!” Snorts DonBrapp.  “Nobody to meet us!’  Strahd apologizes for the lapse of his chamberlain.

“The dwarf is unaccustomed to the ways of above ground creatures.” Quilro steps forward. “We have brought you a gift!” he says cheerily, elbowing the dwarf.

“I hope you find the meal before you as satisfying as that which one can squeeze from the Blood on the Vine.  I have asked our humble staff to ensure the freshest of ingredients, and the eldest of vintages be presented in honor of your arrival.”
He bids the party to take a seat.

“Accept this as a token to our commitment to future opportunities.” The dwarf presents the blue ruby phylactery and places it upon the table.

“You honor me with such an immense gift.” The Baron responds and encourages the party to eat.  The food is delicious and perfectly paired with the wine.

“You honor us with the best of Barovian wine!” Pyotr exclaims, noting his finest vintage served.

“Yes Pyotr.  Something your underlings appear unable to do when so ordered.”  Strahd retorts sharply.

“What news of Maalthiir deposed and this Mordak risen up?  How do you mixed group of non-humans arrive at my shores?”

The group explains and proposes an agreement on the sole transfer of goods and free trade for bloodstone.  Strahd comments how chaotic it is, and expresses his deep sorrow for the death of King Virdin and the scramble of nobles to anoint a successor.

“The bloodstone must flow!  And it must flow through Barovia!  Where better to land this bounty than Hillsfar!?”  Strahd begins enthusiastically.

Quilro offers exclusive deals on cattle and foodstores;  the Baron counters with a request for exclusive weapons.  He reiterates that Barovia is the only geographic access to the Moonsea for Damara.

“It is understood some force has called forth a horde, and this may be related to the closing of the mines.”

Kailute offers to parlay with the horde to deliver the bloodstone or reopen the mine, and Strahd is bemused by the idea.

“All of Damara is in flames.  The petty nobles make small wars amongst themselves as well as the menace this horde may represent.  The mountains of Barovia will withstand these challenges and emerge among the wealthiest of holdfasts in the region.”

It is generally agreed upon an exclusive right to trade with Barovia with the intent of providing Strahd weapons while Quilro mutters in halfling.

While Strahd toasts the deal, he mentions his pending betrothal to Ireena Kolyana.

Pyotr pushes his glass away.

“We have seen Ireena.  She is not as enthusiastic as you are.”  He states, standing.
“Pyotr Guryerovich.  You forget yourself in my home.”  Strahd retorts icily.

Dagnar attempts to de-escalate the situation, recommending a return to music.
“The next thing to be played upon this organ will be the wedding march between myself and lady Ireena von Zarovich, or nothing played here ever again!”  Strahd says forcefully and pulling his cape around him disappears.

The moment the Strahd disappears, a fierce, bone-chilling wind rises up and roars through the hall, putting out all open flames. The screech of ancient hinges and the solid thud of many heavy doors slamming shut, one after another, into the distance echos through the halls. They also hear the portcullis clang shut and the tired groan of the aged drawbridge pulling up. Finally the doors to this room slam shut and the room is filled with darkness.
Pulling the light rocks out the room is empty aside from the party and the feast laid before it.

“I fear it will come to blood, now.” Pyotr says.

“Well, you could have kept your own counsel.”  DonBrapp states.

“Both of you shut up, I am trying to hear!” Quilro hisses.

Delvaryn indicates the evil is strongest in the deep heart of the castle while the group searches for a hidden passage.  A door behind the organ is located and the group moves the enormous instrument to the side to access it.

The room beyond to the west is full of mirrors of various sizes lain against the walls.  Arrow slits allow view over the courtyard.  To the south a group of zombies is surprised by the elf leaping through the door and a shout is put out for DonBrapp.

“BRAP WILLS IT!” he exclaims but the energy of Vergadain only affects three of the undead.  The others shuffle forward.

Quilro unleashes his favorite smell, immolating the undead in magical fire and sizzling their animated remains.

The party charges through the remaining wounded zombies and cut them down after a brief but savage melee that frightened several henchmen into catatonic fear.

After clearing the empty corner tower to the southwest the party continues east along the southern passageway until it comes across a stone spiral staircase.  The long, hollow sigh of the wind breathes a semblance of life into this otherwise featureless staircase.

Quilro checks the hall and stairway for trap, cautiously advancing with blade and lantern in hand down the stairs.  This ten-foot-wide arched corridor is cold and moist, bearing due west before turning north. The cold seems to emanate from an open archway in the west wall to the north.  Due north a wooden door trimmed in iron is closed.

The archway to the west opens into a lichen covered ten-foot-wide passage running east and west. Opening off both sides of this passage are ten-foot-square alcoves that contain rotting cots, rags, and the skeletal remains of castle guards. A deathly silence fills the hall, broken by the unearthly shuffling of undead.

The group prepares for combat in the lower rooms. DonBrapp again feels encroaching evil 40’ below the courtyard level.  Kailute thrusts at the skeletons for reduced damage as the party takes up a line of battle.  Quilro volleys an enormous volley of magical energy from his ring nearly destroying one of the skeletal warriors.

“This castle is crawling with undead!” The dwarf mutters.

Quilro shakes his head, questioning again where Fyrnlocke is.

“TORM’S JUSTICE!” Delvaryn cries leaping into the fray.  Kailute makes a swing, reverses the axe and swings again obliterating one of the skeletons.

Brandishing his symbol a second time the dwarf sends several bone warriors away from the fight.  Delvaryn and Fyrnlocke charge toward the turned skeletons as DonBrapp slips and loses his place, barely avoiding two attacks of opportunity.

After several tense minutes of combat the rotten former guard barracks is cleaned of undead and looted for minor coin and valuables.

Larders of Ill Omen

Quilro checks the room to the north for traps and opens it.  Dark stains cover the floor of this area. Large oak tables, scarred and beaten, lay scattered like toys about the room, their wood crushed and splintered. Replacing them are furnishings made entirely of human bones.

The walls and the twenty-foot-high vaulted ceiling are a sickly yellow color, not because of faded or timeworn plaster but because they are adorned with bones and skulls arranged in a morbidly decorative fashion, giving the room a cathedral-like quality. Four enormous mounds of bones occupy the corners of this ossuary, and garlands of skulls extend from these mounds to a chandelier of bones that hangs from the ceiling above a long table constructed of bones in the center of the room. Ten chairs made of bones and festooned with decorative skulls surround the table, resting atop which is an ornate, bowl-shaped vessel made of yet more bones.

The doors to the north and south are sheathed in bone, but the steel-banded double doors in the center of the east wall are not. Above these eastern doors is mounted the skull of a dragon.

The east and west walls are lined with the corpses of freshly dead humans, unflinching or moving as you enter.  They are armored in a variety of armor local to the region but appear to take neither motion nor action at your arrival.

Kailute surveys the room in an attempt to determine how long it might take to burn.  Delvaryn readies a vial of ready holy flaming water by unstoppering it.

“Torm protect us all!” The paladin says, shielding the elf and half-orc through the room to the door on the eastern wall.

Quilro skirts silently through the room and listens to the door on the eastern wall, and hears nothing.  Pushing open the door, a 20’ wide hallway opens to the east.

This hall stands in deadly silence. Heavy beams support a sagging, ten-foot-high ceiling. Fog clings to the floor, obscuring everything that lies less than three feet above it. A giant shadow lurches across the ceiling as a dark figure shuffles purposefully down the corridor toward you.

“’Ello, Guv’nor…”  Quilro squeaks as the rest of the party closes around the elf.
From the far end of the hall a torch is casting an enormous shadow of a small hunched humanoid advancing with purpose toward the party.

“Greetings sir!  For such a small creature you cast a large shadow!” Kailute hails.
“Greetings, greetings…  we don’t get many…  errrrrrrr…  visitors.  Lord Strahd would like me to show you to your errrrrrr quarters…

A misshapen hunchback stands before you.  “I hope you enjoyed your dinner.  I made the very best for you!  Cyrus makes the stew.  I can show you to your room in the tower!”

The individual moves toward a door in the southern wall of the hall and laughs with a cackle.  He leads the party further south through a 10’ passageway laughing and making small talk.  Around his neck hangs a skeleton key as well as a glazed eyeball struck through.  Kailute observes the eyeball is magical.

The group peppers Cyrus with questions about Strahd’s location and ask if they could be led to the chapel to offer prayers.  The hunchback agrees, but only after all are shown their quarters.  Quickly throwing a lever, portcullis bars lock passage north and south and the ground begins to rise as the servant has initiated a stone mechanical elevator that ascends about 7’ a second.  Tomas, Dagnar, and Pyotr are left below.

DonBrapp is impressed with the handiwork of the elevator, which is a 20’ square stone block but the half-orc is nervous.  Within a minute the hiss of a gas issuing from a small hole in the ceiling begins, and Cyrus pinches his nose.  Kailute attempts to grab the dwarf’s ruff and is rebuffed.  Eventually he sticks one of his fingers in the hole and the flow is ceased.
“Your host has remarkably poor manners!” The dwarf yells, poking Cyrus in the stomach.  The elevator arrives at a dark landing ten feet wide and twenty feet long. A cold draft of wind rushes down the spiral staircase at the north end of the east wall and whistles mournfully through the room before streaming down the stairs to the south.

An ornate, square rug covers the floor to the south. Set into the west wall is an ironbound wooden door with a wooden trapdoor set into the floor in front of it. Hanging on the north wall above the trapdoor is a framed portrait of a handsome, well-dressed man with a serene yet penetrating gaze.

Cyrus assures the group his only intent was to put the party to bed and make them comfortable, as Kailute stoppers the gas with a stopper and returns below to collect the rest of the party.  DonBrapp eyes the red and tan silk and wool rug that covers the landing, with a smooth wink and nod toward Fyrnlocke.

“Tomas, Dagnar;  roll up that feckin’ rug.”  DonBrapp spits.  The group orients to the incredible heights they have ascended through the stone elevator.

Once the group has reconvened Cyrus offers to show them to their room, and Delvaryn immediately agrees.  Quilro locates a trap door beneath the rug, and crafts a trap using the unstoppered holy hand grenade and the dwarf’s flint and steel.

“Aye’v not seen a trap like that since Waterdeep!” Fyrnlocke compliments Quilro.  The hunchback manservant shows the group through a lounge area sitting room that affords a panoramic view of the western front of the castle.  Three ornate lanterns hang by chains from these beams, each casting a dim glow. The curved west wall is fitted with three windows of leaded glass in steel latticework. A bookcase sits on the east wall between two doors. Plush, overstuffed chairs and couches are placed about the room. The fabric has faded with age, and the patterns it depicts are nearly gone.

Cyrus opens a further door revealing a large bed, its four corner posts supporting a black canopy trimmed with gold tassels. Several comfortable divans are placed about the room. There is a banded door in the west wall and a smaller unbanded door in the east wall that opens to a wood-paneled room that reeks of mildew and has a ten-foot-high ceiling. Iron hooks line the walls, and a dusty black cloak hangs from one hook in the center of the south wall.
Cyrus explains the party can share the beds and couches for their rest, to the displeasure of most.

Quilro employs magical influence in an attempt to get the servant to provide details of Strahd’s routine but he offers no coherent information other than mentioning a little girl who is a guest of the Baron but is not Ireena.  The little girl is staying in the Baron’s apartment.

The hunchback agrees to inquire if the guests can bring the party to the chapel this evening and bring back snacks before departing.

DonBrapp directs Dagnar (who delegates to Tomas) to gather the rugs in the lounge, and suggests Quilro investigate the books that line the shelf.  The dwarf selects some volumes of history on the region, particularly those with maps of dwarven outposts.

Using the magical gem Kailute locates a trapdoor in the ceiling of the closet.  The party deliberates on the next steps for exploration and all agree that the chapel should be the focus.  The group also decides to move out before Cyrus returns down the stairs in the southern spiral.

The group cautiously descends to the next landing and open the door to a passageway with two alcoves that hold shadows come to life.  DonBrapp attempts to turn the undead shades but is unsuccessful.  Irate at yet another melee Kailute wrests his axe from his shoulder and charges forward.  Several claw attacks leave each of the companions nicked by negative energy and Kailute in particular is wounded.

“May the halls of Myth Drannor be vanquished!” Yells Quilro missing with his moonblade.
“Please save your potion vials.” DonBrapp reminds the group as Delvaryn falls beneath the claws of the shadow creatures.  The paladin is pallid and clammy, as if his life energy has been completely exhausted.

“We should cut off his head.  He’d want us to do it.”  The dwarf states.

“All we can do is ensure he does not come back to haunt us.”

The group picks the equipment from the lifeless form in one of the alcoves and prepares to move on.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 20:06, Sat 27 Feb 2021.