Enter Freely and Share the Warmth That You Bring: Expedition to Castle Ravenloft

[Artemis97]

Our adventure begins, as many do, inside of a tavern. This particular tavern was the Weary Horse Inn, a small but cozy roadside establishment near the border of Barovia. A fire has been lit in the hearth, warding off an early autumn chill that encroached as night fell. A man with a fiddle and a woman with a tambourine sat near the fire, playing music which filled the air. The common room was populated mostly by farmers from the surrounding countryside, drinking and joking. A pretty young half-elf with fiery red hair brought drinks around to the patrons, and more than one young man was trying to catch her eye. She flirted with each, but promised them nothing. The proprieter, a portly human with a bald head, cleaned glasses behind the bar while listening to the woes of dwarven fellow who was already well into his cups. At one table, a halfling couple was discussing something with a third man, all three speaking in a foreign tongue. Our adventurers, too, are here, amongst the smoke, the music, and the laughter.

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=12456571#post12456571)

[Halae]

Sitting at the bar is a mousy haired young woman not paying much attention to what's around her, seeming more focused on the glass in front of her, which happens to be empty, than anything else. If one was to watch closely, they could see that she's floating it into the air, spinning it slowly, and other midair things.

The reason for this is fairly simple; despite her extremely good looks, many people have no wish to interact with a mage. Keeps the men off her, and she can get in a little spellcasting to boot. It's nice not having to worry about men hitting on you, though this didn't stop some of the more adventurous ones. She wears traveling clothes rather than any sort of robe, knowing that wearing a robe is just stupid out on the road when you could have better, more durable clothing.

[Shadow of the Sun]

The door opens, letting the warmth of the bar to escape for a couple of moments when a young man blusters in. He's short- shorter than most, even, and seems to be somewhat clumsy. He's wearing a headband that clashes with his ashy-blonde hair, very well tailored silk clothes, and a signet ring. He looks, quite frankly, like a noble born twit, and the way he's acting- slightly pompous and condescending- doesn't help that. Anyone in the tavern who would be looking for a good mark to steal from later would probably mark him down as a worthy target- until they saw the rapier at his side, perhaps.

Still being quite pompous and blustery, he takes a seat, a short way away from the fire. When asked whether he'd like a drink, he responds with a question about the wine list, and whether they have a specific- and reasonably expensive vintage. The general impression he gives off is of a young nobleman who has no idea what he's walked into, or where.

If anyone is watching him closely, and has a good eye for detail - and it would have to be a VERY good eye - they might notice that he's very attentive, and that his blunders are all calculated to provide maximum effect of making him look stupid while minimising the chances for him to get hurt. And, they might notice that he's listening to the men speaking the foreign language, to see if it's one that he recognises.

But they'd have to be very good- his act is almost perfect, and the disguise that he wears fits the part just as perfectly. He sits, watches, and listens, looking for every opportunity; he came to this bar for a specific purpose.

[Shadowcaller]

As the man steps away from the door it's only closed again for a moment before it opens once again.

A figure dressed in a thick fur clothes is revealed standing just outside, seemingly hesitating a moment before stepping over the doorstep.
This wanderer is obviously dressed for a different climate and certainly doesn't seem to be around here.

The fur is white, made from a single animal and is hanging loosely again the body, completed with a hood covering and white fur gloves that seems to have been made from the same animal.

Taking off the hood, it's revealed it's a woman with straight short-cut blond hair. Fair skin which have exposed to much sun with of dark blue eyes which curiously look around the establishment.

She seem new to all this, apparently finding a lot of things to look at, especially the other people who have gathered at the tavern.

[Gullara]

"<Outta the way, Tyri. Ya blocking the door.>" Comes a loud, boisterous voice in accented elven. Another woman follows behind the first, trying to give her a nudge out of the way, none too gently either.

Similarly to the first, this woman is dressed in white furs, though one can tell she's shed some of her clothing if Tyri is any indication. Peeking through the furs is a fine suit of silvery chainmail. Mithral to the trained eye. She carries a large pack, some variety of spear, and a bow on her back.

They do have some similarities in appearance. Her hair is very pale blond, long and pulled back into a tight braid that trails down her back. Her eyes are all white, save for two black dots that are her pupils. One trait certainly separates her from Tyri, however, and that is her pointed ears. The elf stands over half a foot shorter than her human companion.

She's still arguably more imposing to her companion. Her body, despite her slender frame, is made up primarily of corded muscle. Her face, exposed arms, and presumably much of the rest of her skin is covered in scar after scar after scar. She seems none the worse for wear for her old wounds.

"<They have drink here, right? I could use a couple right now.>" She gins, baring her interesting mouthful of teeth. Many have been pulled out, likely due to poor dental care. She's gotten replacements it seems. Teeth made of ivory that are a tad sharper than her teeth would have been naturally.

[Shadowcaller]

"<Patience.>" Tyri reminds her as she gently steps aside for the elvish woman. While she speaks in the same accented elvish, her voice couldn't be more different. Light, feminine and most of all, calm. Something you expect to hear from a scholar or diplomat rather thena fur dressed traveler from distant lands.
"<I told you all the way here, we need to have patience with these people. I'm sure they have plenty to drink if you just ask them.>" She stares at the elf for a moment before adding. "<Politely.>"

[Gullara]

"<Politely.>" The elf scoffs. She doesn't put a lot of stock in the value of being polite. She sweeps past Tyri and heads straight for the bar, where she seats herself. Her every move is powerful and fluid. She moves like a warrior, even when at ease like she is now.

"<Get me a drink.>" She calls to the barkeep. If the barkeep doesn't respond, looks confused, or in some other way doesn't appear to understand Elven, she'll repeat herself. "Get me a drink. Something strong." This time it's in the Common tongue. Her speech is harder to understand in common, like she's not well versed in its use.

[UncleWolf]

An older man at a table near the bar ignores the newcomers for now, more intent on brooding over his glass of water for the moment, pondering deeds past. He's average height for a human with a sheet of closely cropped mostly-gray blond hair. His face is scarred, by either beast or blade, making it so any beard he'd try to grow would result in nothing but scraggy ruins. For the most part, he wears nothing better than a gray traveler's robe, but when he raises his left hand from his lap to take a drink from his glass, he reveals a large metal gauntlet with a sapphire eye on the back, marking him as a follower of Helm.

To his side, a small pack sets on the ground and a simple wooden staff rests against the table, within easy reach. When he hears the two Northerners speak though, he can't help but smile. <If you're looking for something strong, I suggest the stout. If you'd rather be able to taste it, go for the brandy.> He tells them in Elven. His accent is likely quite a bit different, much more southern compared to theirs. <I don't drink, but I hear those are the choices.>

[Gullara]

The elf turns to the man, a grin spreading across her face. "Make that a stout." She calls to the barkeep before moving to sit across from the man.

"<Don't drink, huh? Why not?>" Her eyes move down to the gauntlet, but there's no recognition there. "<And don't give me some mammoth **** excuse like it's not good for ya.>"

[Shadowcaller]

Tryi rolls her eyes as she hears the exchange and takes a seat next to Katla. <"Good tidings to you gäst(guest), it's good to hear someone speaking our tongue in these lands."> She interrupts them before he can answer. <"I'm Tyri and this is Katla."> She introduces them with a smile. <"Who're you? I trust you speak common?">

[Shadow of the Sun]

The fellow who has made rather a twit of himself is looking around, examining various features of the bar and muttering to himself things like "Such rustic decor..." and others. His eyes linger on the newcomers, particularly the rather...brusque...elven woman. His face contorts into what could best be described as polite horror.

[Artemis97]

The barmaid, a tad confused, explains to the "noble twit" that there is no wine list. Only red wine, or white wine. And he was lucky to get that choice.

The barman doesn't speak Elvish, but knows a drink order when he hears it. He pours a mug full of a good, dark stout and sets it on the bar to be served.

A few patrons look over at the armored woman at her outburst, wondering what was wrong, but soon go back to their drinks and conversations.

[UncleWolf]

<I don't drink, because I simply want to remain clear headed.> The older man explains. <What are you two doing here so far south?> He asks after a moment, looking between the pair with curiosity.

[Gullara]

Katla shrugs. "<Tyri can explain if she wants.>" She glances back toward the bar and sees her drink is there. She stands and goes to retrieve it. On her way back she tries to catch the eye of the aptly described twit and give him a mean, pointy toothed grin. She proceeds to return to her seat.

[Halae]

The woman at the bar looks curiously at the two obvious northerners, but continues to do nothing but spin the glass in her hands for now. She has no reason to go over to them and see who they were. Something told her they were important, however.

[Shadow of the Sun]

The noble fellow, who so openly radiates the aura of "twit" looks disappointed upon being told that there is no wine list. He asks for a glass of white wine, and leaves the matter.

He then notices he's being smiled at, and smiles back at the elven woman. He then opens his mouth, and she might be surprised to hear that he can speak elven almost perfectly, except for a slight overuse of consonants.

"<Well met, and good luck to you and your family.>"

To be fair, he IS a noble. Family is generally all they think about.

[Shadowcaller]

<"We are explorers actually, we come here in search of things to trade and experiences we can share with our by (village)."> She explains while just ordering something to warm her up. She isn't particularly familiar with the menu so she goes with anything the staff recommend.
<"We are looking for njåd's (shamans) and druids in particular if you happen to know any. But enough about us, tell me your name stranger. What is you story?">

[Gullara]

Katla's eyebrows shoot up. He can speak elven, eh? She decides to change course. Tryi can handle herself. Not like she was all that interested in the conversation anyway.

"<Well met to yourself.>" She says as she moves over to the nobleman. She isn't exactly familiar with nobles, but she can tell his type from a mile away. He's the type that she'd take great pleasure in introducing to her fist. "<Let me guess, you're a long way from home too?>"

[Shadow of the Sun]

"<Reasonably so, yes. Certainly I'm not familiar with this land.>"

He looks relaxed, entirely relaxed, and completely off his guard.

Looks.

[UncleWolf]

<My story is one involving much sorrow, but for now all that is necessary to know is that I am merely wandering.> The man says before offering his unarmored hand to shake. "Call me Jean."

[Shadowcaller]

Tyri looks curiously at his outreached hand until she seem to realize something and gently shakes it. "A common ritual here. The handshake that is." She replies in perfect common.

As she let's go of his hand she turns to the drink which her player assumes have been delivered to her and takes a sip. Looks like they have even more company, people around here were so open.

"So what can you tell me of these lands Jean?"

[Gullara]

"<I could tell.>" Katla smiles perfectly innocently... Well, she smiles. "<I heard that most men are expected to buy their female conversation partner's drinks.>" In fact she's heard no such thing, but with any luck she'll get a free drink out of the deal.

[Shadow of the Sun]

"<I'm sure you have. And while I'm not sure if it's the custom here, it certainly is back home.>"

He waves over a bartender, drawing 5 gold pieces from a pocket on his belt.

"<Please get this fine woman anything she wants to drink.>"

He gives Katla a smile.

[Gullara]

"Another stout." She calls to the barkeep. She should probably not have too much to drink. Try to tell her that, though.

"<So you got a name? Mine's Katla.>" She says, not even bothering to thank him for the drink. That might not be unexpected, however.

[UncleWolf]

"Not much." Jean admits to the tribeswoman. "We're right outside Barovia, Barovia. Ruled by Count Strahd von Zarovich. About a day away. Other than that, not much. I'm a wandering monk and just pick up a little here and there." He tells her before taking a sip of his water.

[Shadowcaller]

"Perhaps he rules the people, but I have yet see a man rule the land itself." Tyri replies as she suddenly glance over to Katla and the newcomer. Hopefully that didn't require her presence, her companion was a troublemaker.

She turns back to Jean however, trying to relax as she takes a sip from the beer she ordered in with a mixed reaction. "An interesting crowd here, I thought we were going to be the odd ones but this entire inn is filled with strange characters." She comments. "I must say that we have been avoiding the people of these lands until now. Strangers aren't as welcome in our lands as they are here."

[Halae]

"The kinds of people in the land are plentiful and myriad," comes a voice from the bar. The young mage, her trade evident by the glass still spinning above her hand, is looking rather amused at being called odd, "I'm somewhat new to these parts myself. Anything more you can share with us, Jean? I'd appreciate it."

[UncleWolf]

"Are strangers really welcome anywhere?" Jean asks hypothetically before turning to the interruption. "As I said before, that's all I know."

[Shadow of the Sun]

"<So you got a name? Mine's Katla.>" She says, not even bothering to thank him for the drink. That might not be unexpected, however.

He pauses momentarily, although it's not really noticeable. He then smiles, and extends a hand. "Samuel. Samuel Harrow, <in full, of the house> Harrow." His name doesn't translate well into elvish, and he knows it.

He doesn't comment on the lack of thank you, or even to really notice it.

[Artemis97]

Those inside the tavern may hear the sound of hoofbeats fast approaching. A horse whinnies, almost a scream. There's a heavy thud and a grunt. Scrambling footsteps, approaching the door, which is soon thrown open with a bang that breaks through the sounds of the tavern. The conversations end. The music stops. Everyone stares at the man who just entered the room.

He was a fairly short man with dark hair and eyes, dressed in mail and leather, stained from the trail. He looked exhausted, and terrified. He tries to speak, but is too out of breath to form words.

[Halae]

Sasha is almost shocked. The first she does is, for just a moment, stare at the many who just came in, but then her better nature takes effect and she moves over to help him.

Her first response is to move over and see if she can't help him stand. She'll then try to move him to a chair so that he can sit and rest enough to tell the crowd what's wrong.

[Shadowcaller]

Tyri, just having opened her mouth to introduce herself for the second time today freezes and turns in the direction of the door as horses can be heard outside.

As the man enters she makes no move to help him however, partly because Sasha was already doing it and partly since she was held back by her own customs. Drawing attention to yourself among so many strangers? She felt a bit uncomfortable doing it.

She just hoped Skrack hadn't caused any of this, he could be a handful at times, especially in these areas.

Eventually she get's up however, letting the man calm down a bit before she asks, "Can I get you something? What happened?"

[UncleWolf]

Jean looks up suddenly when the newcomer enters and without waiting goes to him to try and guide him to the fireplace. "Come and warm up. This is no place to be out at night." He tells him in a kindly voice.

[Gullara]

Katla is suddenly interrupted from their conversation by the man entering. She raises an eyebrow at the proceedings. "<What do you figure that's all about? Probably outran some bandits.>" Nothing she has personal experience with, but there are some fools in the world that don't know enough to learn to stab someone.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel stands up and draws his rapier. The look on his face is entirely focused, and his movements are precises and lithe- the rapier seems to spin over his knuckles into his grip as he draws it, and he drops into what is an obviously practiced en garde.

<"Perhaps, but it's best to be on your guard. I've killed people in situations like this before.">

Well, there goes the noble twit. Instead there is a focused young man who talks casually about killing.

[Artemis97]

With the help of Sasha and Jean, the man is led over to a chair by the fireplace, and seems grateful for it. Soon enough, he catches his breath. "We... we need help. Will you help us?" He asks, looking up at the group that has surely gathered around him. "Please?"

[UncleWolf]

"Take a couple breaths to calm yourself and start from the beginning." The wandering monk tells the newcomer. "We'll be glad to help but you have to tell us what happened first."

[Gullara]

Katla raises an eyebrow at the supposed twit when it's clear that's no longer what he is. "<Put your sticker away. No one's trying to kill us right now.>" Paranoid much? The elf casually stands and goes to move nearer to the gathering. Might as well see if she's getting dragged into something.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel doesn't put his weapon away, although he does lower it from the en-garde position he had taken up. "<They could be luring us into a surprise attack. It is best to be on guard.>"

To maintain communications, he moves as Katla does, although he keeps his voice low so that only she can hear.

[Artemis97]

The man takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It seemed to help, a little bit. "There... there were things on the road, when I left the village. Terrified the horse... and me." He admits, swallowing hard. "I was only asked to deliver a letter. The Burgomaster himself asked me. He said I needed to find help. Quickly." He scrambles to search his pockets, pulling out a crumpled letter, sealed with red wax. He shoves it into Jean's hands, almost desperate to be rid of it. "Here. Take it. I was told it was important it got out Barovia, and to someone who can help."

He looks around at the people in the tavern, his eyes lingering most on the scarred visage of Katla and Samuel's drawn blade. "You will help us? Right?"

[TwoBitWriter]

In the back of the tavern, in a corner of seemingly little coincidence, a dark figure stands. He is tall, taller than most men, and broad of shoulder. His cloak is thick wool died black with a trim of burgundy and coated with dried mud. His boots are rawhide but stained with years of travel by foot. He still wore his armor of boiled leather studded with heavy metal rivets to provide extra protection. The armor comes complete with cuirass, greaves, paldrons, and gauntlets.

Across his back rests a massive greatsword resting in a cracked and worn scabbard. Bits of metal adornments long fallen and never replaced. With his movements you can catch glimpses of other implements of war dotting his person, a stout mace at his waist, a dagger in his boot, and a crossbow slung criss-crossed with the greatsword.

The massive figure draws back his hood, revealing a thick-skulled human-like face, only his slight pug-nose, pointed ears, and elongated lower canines belie his orcish heritage. His hair is short, black, and travels down coarse sideburns to meet at his chin in a well-trimmed goatee.

His red eyes fall upon the recent arrival and he strides forward, his steps heavy and causing the wooden floor of the inn to creak in protest.

"These things you saw on the road, were they man, beast, or something else?" he says in a deep bass, made slightly flat by his tusk-like lower teeth. Despite his savage demeanor, he speaks intelligently. He reaches into a small pouch at his belt and withdraws, amazingly, an entire bottle of red wine. He snaps off the cork with his teeth and offers the entire bottle to the frightened man. "For your nerves, friend. A cheap vintage works wonders for those who are troubled in mind, body, and soul."

[UncleWolf]

Jean takes the message gently, giving the man's hand a reassuring pat before he examines the seal carefully, looking to see if it's a sign he recognizes. With a sense of reverence, he slowly breaks the seal before opening the message to read it.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel tries to read over Jean's shoulder. "If you don't mind, I am a diplomat...among other things." His eyes are, however, moving from side to side, never stopping, looking for possible angles of attack.

He is indeed very paranoid.

Oh, and he hasn't sheathed his rapier yet, either.

[TwoBitWriter]

The half-orc glances over at the funny man with the rapier. "Hard to be a diplomat with steel in your hands, friend."

[UncleWolf]

Jean stops himself from opening the letter and looks up to give the man a glare. "Don't. Touch. Me." He says with annoyance and a hint of anger, eyes flashing. "Put your blade away before its done for you."

[Gullara]

"Funny, I find it easiest to be a diplomat when I have a weapon." Katla grins at the half-orc. She turns her attention back to the man briefly, but soon shifts it over to Tyri. "<What do you think? I say we see if anything needs to be killed.>" She shifts back to the more comfortable elven tongue.

[Shadow of the Sun]

"Mmm...no, I won't, if you don't mind." The rapier is pointed at the floor, and he's not gesturing with it or doing anything threatening.

"Perhaps, and I may be the only one thinking this, but perhaps this could be an ambush? A set up? As someone who was trained as a diplomat from a young age, I was reading the letter to see if it was genuine. Then- and only then- will I put my rapier away. Because this is how people die, you understand? They walk into a situation that appears to be one thing but is really something else, let their guard down, and then they are dead."

He's not being threatening, or not like he is intent on violence. He is merely giving what he considers to be the best council.

"So my apologies for touching you, friend..." and he tugs his forelock at Jean, "...but give me the damned letter, okay?"

[UncleWolf]

"And the priest won't be able to tell?" Jean asks with a raised eyebrow. "No offense, but I don't trust those who refuse to put away blades in a tavern." Jean says as he backs away from the sword-wielder to open the letter. Once open, he'll read it out loud.

[Artemis97]

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!


There is no signature.

[Shadowcaller]

<"It could be worth investigating."> Tyri replies, <"A perfect opportunity to create a diplomatic contact in these lands."> She tells the elf before giving her a light bump on the shoulder. <"And that means no walking around with your weapon pulled.>

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel grinds his teeth- in fact, so hard that it's audible throughout the bar- and continues looking around for possible angles of attack, routes of escape, and the like.

[Gullara]

Katla replies only with a short laugh and a shake of her head. Whether or not she intends to follow Tyri's advice is yet to be seen. But hey, at least she isn't being hostile yet. For now she'll just wait to see what exactly is going on.

[UncleWolf]

Jean frowns at the words and looks at the messenger. "Where did you say this came from exactly?"

[Artemis97]

"The Burgomaster." The man says, looking confused. He didn't understand why he'd been asked to deliver such a garbled message.

[TwoBitWriter]

The Half Orc looks over the assembled group. "Well, the way I see it, people are asking for help. I suppose it's only right to check and see what the problem is."

[Shadow of the Sun]

"I'll go with you. My skills are...broader...than your typical diplomat, and you might need me.

He still seems to be waiting for an ambush, looking at windows, doors, and shadows in the corners.

"But I would prefer that we go soon."

[Sophistemon]

While the newcomers debate amongst themselves, a five-year regular of the Weary Horse Inn finishes his drink in a long, slow pull. The alcohol flows over his tongue and down his throat to fuel the fire that already burns his belly. The smoke of those internal flames waft up to cloud his mind, helping to blur the line between what's real and what isn't, what was and what wasn't, but it isn't quite enough to stop the voices in his head. They just scream even louder, forcing him to remember. He's about to raise his hand to order another drink, thinking to drown the voices in wine, this time, when the Diplomat says something about preferring to go soon. Something about the 'soon' resonates with him, partially restoring a tattered shred of mnemonic tapestry. Who was it that had said 'We need to go soon, or it'll be too late!'?

He can't recall, but the surge of remembrance forces him up and out of his seat so quickly that the stool topples, with a clatter, to the ground. "I'm coming with you!" he states, his speech slurred and his voice a little too loud for comfort. His rheumy, drink-reddened eyes stare out at the newcomers from beneath the hood of a well-worn traveling cloak, and his face is gaunt and rough with unshaved beard. He suddenly deflates. "I... I want to go."

[Gullara]

"I looks like we will go too." Katla says. She may be trying to come across as unconcerned about the whole thing, but she can't hide a certain eagerness. Finally, something to do.

The scarred woman peers at the newest arrival for only a moment, and proceeds to immediately dismiss him. She won't protest to him coming along if he really wishes to. It's not her concern.

[UncleWolf]

Jean looks at the others and gives a bit of a sigh as he folds the paper and puts it in his pack before grabbing his walking stick. "It'd be safer for us to move in the morning, but I have the feeling that time is of the essence, and it'd be a dereliction of my duties if I didn't go."

[Sophistemon]

"Yes!" says Zane, now nearly thrumming with excitement. He darts towards them and stumbles, nearly dropping to the ground, only avoiding a nasty fall by catching himself at the last second. His eyes are wide and slightly glazed as he stares at each of them in turn, almost plaintively, with a crooked smile on his dry and cracking lips. The scent of alcohol pours off him like miasma, strong enough to crinkle the nose, and he reels on his feet. "We need to go soon," he pleads, liking the feel of the words in his mouth, as though they belonged there, but he couldn't be sure. "Or it'll be too late!" The last two words echo in his head, pounding loudly, like harshly-beaten drums, against the inside of his skull: too late, too late, too late...

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel looks at Zane, and doesn't seem to have any issues with him, even though he's drunk.

"I'm sure you have skills that will come in useful. Although I do not know what those skills are. But, well... He chuckles softly. It could be considered somewhat chilling, but then again, perhaps not. "...well, I haven't gotten to show mine yet.

He's still holding his rapier, although in an at ease position. He is not threatening, but he is wary.

[TwoBitWriter]

"Amateur..." The Half-Orc mutters, seeing Samuel still holding the rapier in his hands. It was the first rule of fighting, discipline. You didn't simply draw your weapon unless you intended to use it on someone or something. This man was obviously all bravado with little real training to back it up.

"Call me Sheriff." Sheriff says to the assembled adventurers. "I suppose we should get to it."

Without another word Sheriff strides toward the door. He waves the others to follow, and exits.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel hears Sheriff's quip, but he doesn't respond. His facial expression doesn't even change. In his experience, the truest sign of an amateur is someone who can't keep their head or their focus in the face of small things.

He's keeping the weapon at the ready not because he's undisciplined, but because he's perhaps a little bit jumpy or even paranoid. He was expecting the need to use it as soon as he heard the sound of something odd from the outside. Best to be prepared - and have your weapon at hand- than not.

"After you... 'Sheriff'."

He sheaths his weapon. It's an odd movement- the blade seems to spin over his knuckles, back into its scabbard, but it's not something that just anyone could do. He's practised being able to draw and replace his weapon within moments if needed.

He'd have preferred to keep his rapier in hand as he left the tavern, but walking with a rapier in hand is not particularly easy.

[Shadowcaller]

The sudden appearance of these new characters seem to make Tyri slightly uncomfortable and for a moment she shrinks back from her usual open self and just nods slightly at the decision being taken. She will follow along the group for now.

[Artemis97]

Outside the tavern, the air is cold. To the north, dark clouds can be seen rolling in, covering up the star speckled sky like a blanket. A lone horse, still barded and saddled, wanders the yard. White mist billows up from its nostrils. A weathered sign at the crossroads creaks in the wind. One of its placards points to the long road that leads accross the plains, north to distant line of trees. In faded letters it reads: Barovia.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff tightens his cloak about him and instinctively flexes his fingers against the hilt of the knife at his belt.

"I guess there's only one way to go. Fortunate that our trail is so clearly marked." He says, taking the lead down the road.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel nods, although he looks distinctly uncomfortable.

"I'd rather take the plains than the road. You're less likely to be seen, and I'm still suspecting an ambush. Oh, and one other thing that's important."

He immediately begins removing his clothing, tossing it on the ground, and pulling more worn and travel ready clothing. Once he's completely changed, which his mail vest on top of his shirt instead of underneath it, he stomps on his old clothing.

He no longer looks like a noble. He looks like a reasonably seasoned adventurer; the clothes he's changed into has bloodstains, which seem to be reasonably fresh.

"Been years since I had to wear drek such as that. Glad to be out of it. A shame that I don't have the time to bury or burn them, but that can't be mended."

[Sophistemon]

Zane leaves the tavern behind the others, his heart leaping joyously behind his ribs. He was going somewhere, he was doing something. Granted, he didn't know where he was going, or what he was doing, or even who he was going with, as he'd been too busy drinking to hear that part of their conversation. Not to mention, he reminded himself, that the road to Barovia was likely to be a long one, and fraught with terrible dangers the likes of which he'd been trying to avoid these last several years. He's in the process of turning around to go back inside to his nice, comfortable stool when he sees Samuel strip his clothes off and stomp them into the ground. Zane himself had done something similar on several occasions, although of course he had lacked the foresight to have with him another outfit to change into. But what else was someone supposed to do when he had spiders crawling all over him? Especially when they're spiders that nobody else can see... He shudders, remembering the legs.

He raises his right hand to catch Samuel's attention. "W-why are you afraid of an ambush?" he asks, the words so slurred as to be nearly indistinct. "Do you think that there's danger ahead?" His head swivels as he searches for invisible opponents.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff chuckles at Zane. "There is always danger on the road, my friend. You simply have to be prepared for it.

He looks around at the group. "Most of you I can identify what you are best at..." his gaze lingers on Katla a moment. "But for others it's harder to tell. What are you best at?"

[Gullara]

Katla watches as Samuel changes, eyeing him up like some piece of meat. Apparently she finds something funny about the display, as she chuckles quietly before turning her attention to Sheriff.

"What I'm best at is sticking this into people until they don't move anymore." She reaches up to touch the blade of her ritiik poking up from over her shoulder. A toothy grin accompanies the action.

[TwoBitWriter]

There is the barest hint of a smile as Sheriff nods toward Katla.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel shrugs. "No real need to hide it from you if we're going to be on the road together. I'm an assassin."

He's very light and easy about it. It's almost as if he's saying he was a carpenter. Be he certainly moves gracefully, and the bloodstains on his shirt rather indicate that yes, he is telling the truth.

He looks at Zane, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he works out what the fellow said. "I'm not expecting an ambush, per say, but I am open to the possibility of one. If I was doing something like this, I'd have set it up so that as soon as you walked out of the tavern you were attacked."

He shrugs.

"I know how killers think. I've got a tendency towards introspection."

[Sophistemon]

While the others are discussing the potential for danger and their own aptitude for violence (Samuel's statement especially has Zane taking a cautionary step to the side), the drunkard slides a set of thin fingers into one of the smaller pouches on his belt, the one containing several tablespoons of ground mica. He's lost a lot in the intervening years, more than he'd care to admit, but should it become necessary, he will be prepared to defend himself from, no matter where it comes from. He steels whatever nerve he has left before taking a purposeful step towards Barovia. "Enough talk," he snaps, his feigned bravado cutting through the drink-induced mush in his voice. "Let's get a m-move on before we're too late to d-do anything."

[Shadowcaller]

While she did agree it might be best to delay if there was such an hurry, they hardly knew these people and they hardly knew them.
From the sound of it though, Katla wouldn't be the only bothersome person she would have to deal with on this journey. But here they were to learn the ways of these people, to keep an open mind, they were an envoy after all. Sort of.

So far they hadn't seen any real leadership among these people but this village might change all that once they dealt with whatever danger they were in. In the meantime they should try to study them.
Though not the way she's studying them Tyri mentally adds with a glance at Katla, she really wasn't the best example of one of their kind, but sadly she might be a better representative of their ways then her.

Ah well, better get the introduction over with at least. "We're." She says as she stand a bit closer to Katla. "Envoys of the gwaith, we're a people that live far north of here to learn more of your ways." She explains once they are outside the inn, never having to have bothered with taking off her outside clothes, they had only planned for a short stop anyway. "It will be an honor to travel with such experienced people to our destination."

[UncleWolf]

Outside the tavern, Jean takes a moment to kneel down in pray, speaking quietly to his god, Helm. His whispers are low enough that only those who specifically listen to them will hear it, and if they do, they'll find that it's a prayer for Helm's protection over the group and for their journey to be fortuitous.

Once finished, he takes a slow walk back to the rest of the party, following along behind. "I am Jean Valjean, Repentant Priest-Warden of Helm. Helm and I will serve as your saviors through this journey."

[Artemis97]

With haste, our adventurers set off on the road to Barovia. The night is cold and dark, and grows even more so as the clouds roll in. The road crosses the open plains and soon passes the treeline. Those with some local knowledge will know these are the Svalich Woods, rumored to be full of dangerous beasts. A cold mist gathers at the base of the trees. The canopy towers overhead, filtering out the light of the moon and stars. In the shadows of the undergrowth, one swears they can see and hear things moving, but it is likely only the wind stirred up by the oncoming storm.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff's slightly-pointed ears twitch, listening for danger. He walks down the road, sullen. He says little, and replies to attempts at small talk with annoyed grunts.

This place was dangerous, and there was no need to distract themselves from it.

[Sophistemon]

Zane is a distracting person to travel with, as he's not content to just stay in one position as he walks. The man seems compelled to double-back, his head twisting like a swivel to catch hidden pursuers in his ratlike gaze. He's also full of questions - inexhaustibly so, it would seem. He pesters each and every one of them with the same list, sometimes multiple times, as though trying to catch them in a lie. He's much like a beaten dog - desperate for interaction, but equally paranoid, with a hint of savage violence underneath. "Where are you from?" he asks. "What do you do?" he inquires. "Why are you here?" he interrogates. And then, when he's done with you, he moves on to the next. And always, always, he's watching for something to come charging over the horizon.

[Gullara]

Katla seems entirely unconcerned with potential dangers lurking in the woods. It's your guess whether she just doesn't realize the danger or doesn't care. She'll talk casually with Tyri as they walk, and anyone else that's interested in chatting with the blunt woman.

Well, except Zane. The man gets on her nerves. After the second or third question from him, the only response he gets is a snarl and bared, sharp teeth. On the bright side, he probably learns that she's from the North.

She barely pays attention to the surrounding woods at all, aside from the occasional glance.

[UncleWolf]

Jean doesn't speak to his new companions as they travel, instead choosing to speak his passages as he walks. "Though we travel upon the road to enlightenment and redemption, the faithful are beset upon by distractions of the Vices and the Unholy. The path of the Repentant is coated in the glass of our past misdeeds..."

Even though he mutters to himself, he keeps an eye out on his surroundings, knowing that they could be ambushed upon on any moment.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel's demeanour has changed significantly. He's being overall generally silent- he'll make a soft grunt every now and then, but other than that, he has kept his voice down as low as he can.

He is still sending numerous scanning looks from side to side, and even behind. The possibility that they are being followed is there and, overall, he'd rather know that sooner than later.

His hand rests lightly - although not relaxedly - on the hilt of his rapier. He is a man who sees trouble in every shadow, and he wants to be prepared.

[Shadowcaller]

Well, this was certainly a colorful group but having recovered from her initial nervousness Tyri have no problem being social, not even with Zane.

"We're from gwait as I explained before, it's our people, our tribe as your people would call it. Among my people I'm known as a druid, we have been blessed by mother earth and father sky to uphold the peace between civilization and nature. We are here to hone relationships between our tribe and your people while learning as much about your ways as possible." She explains to him as he asks, wherever he actually wanted to know all that or not.

A while later however a wolverine emerges from the woods as they walk, stinking of blood and intestine. It ignores the other party members and walks straight up to Tyri who smiles at it. "There you are Skrack, I almost thought you weren't coming." Bending down quickly she kisses the wolverine on the nose and ruffles it's fur a bit. "Looks like you got something to eat at least." She grins as the animal seem to nod it's head to her voice.

"Come on, we got some place to be." Tyri says before continuing walking along with the wolverine not far behind.

[Sophistemon]

Zane leaps backwards, away from Katla, and one hand dips instinctively towards one of the smaller pouches on his belt. He stops himself at the last second and cackles wildly. "Almost made me waste it on you, yes you did." He exaggerates a frown. "That would have been very bad, yes; I'd have had to buy more, and it doesn't come cheaply." He finds better company in Tyri, and seems excited to learn that she's a druid. "A magician!" he squeals. "I've not talked shop with another magician in ages! Not since..." he trails off and looks confused. "I can't remember. A long, long time." He lapses, then, into silence.

[Artemis97]

The shadows of the forest coalesce into distinct shapes, which our adventurers will see before they are ever heard. Creatures with smokey fur of black and grey and eyes that glow like coals. One would identify them as wolves if it were not for their size. Each stands as tall as a man at the shoulder. A trio of these beasts walk beside the road, staying back from it a good distance, but definately keeping pace with the party.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff's greatsword is in his hands in the blink of an eye. He doesn't adopt any combat stances at this time, but makes sure to alert his companions to this new development. "We got company..." he says.

[Gullara]

Katla's eyes light up at the sight of the shadowy wolves. Yes. This is why she's here. Not for a diplomatic mission, Tyri be damned, but the thrill of combat. She unslings her ritiik from her back and readies herself to attack. Her muscles tense, she locks her weapon into her gauntlet. Any moment now...

[Sophistemon]

Zane sees the creatures, their inky fur and burning eyes, and his stomach tightens into a knot of apprehension. His feet itch with the urge to run, and the instinct is so strong that he almost does so, and would have if not for his panicking brain suddenly screaming If you run, they will chase you! And so he stands his ground. Better to face them together, he tells himself, than to run and risk being caught. He glances over, sees the tooth-bearing Elf ready a strange-looking polearm, and reaches his own hands to the pouches suspended from his belt. He opens several and quickly rifles through them, searching for the proper components. He hums a strange little tune to himself, a wordless mnemonic to help him remember what goes with what to produce the wanted effect.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel, who tends to be ever preparing for these situations, grunts as he draws his rapier. He immediately drops into a trained fighting stance- one set perfectly for mobility, and the ability to lunge if he needs to. He holds the stance, waiting, for something to happen, for an opening, for an attack.

[Shadowcaller]

Tyri notices both the creatures and the fact that the others seem to be intending to fight them. She of course have a more diplomatic approach. "Just be calm, don't do anything too hasty." She warns the others. Hostile or not, it might be better to wait to see what they were going to do.

[Artemis97]

Jean and Tyri will recognize these creatures at Worgs: magical beasts in the shape of massive wolves. They are stronger and more cunning than their smaller cousins. These creatures have their own languages, and a rare few can communicate in Goblin and the Common tongue.

Seeing a few of you draw weapons, the Worg in the lead, a large black beast, lets out a low growl in warning.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff growls back.

[Artemis97]

For now, the Worgs make no approach, opting to pace back and forth just beyond the road, watching the stopped party.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel narrows his eyes. He's paranoid, and not above stabbing these... things... if they would cause trouble.

But his paranoia is one that is learned; it is not an illness- he has taught himself to examine every possible situation.

Currently, one running in his mind is, perhaps, that these things are werewolves. And Samuel, for for all his seeming bloodthirstiness, prefers to avoid fighting if possible. Admittedly, that's because it's easier to kill someone who has no idea that you're there and isn't prepared, but he isn't averse to the idea of discussion, either.

In every language he can speak, which is quite a few, he says loudly "Friend or foe?"

Best to be sure- the possibility of avoiding a fight is worth trying, and he knows that they've seen them already. He has nothing to lose, and a slim chance to gain significantly.

[Sophistemon]

Zane stares at the others, confused and more than a little unnerved. They weren't fighting. What good were they if they wouldn't fight? Not even the crazy elf with the hooked, spearlike polearm was fighting, although she at least looked like she wanted to. The magician grit his teeth as his instincts war with each other over what to do. A part of him wants to run. It's the facet of his his personality that he's become the most familiar with over the last several years. Another facet, long buried, wants to test his magical mettle against these creatures, to see them slinking back off into the darkness with their mangy tails between their legs, like he used to be able to back when... when... He shakes his head and glances back at the group. "What are you doing?" he hisses.

[Artemis97]

It doesn't take long for Samuel to get a reaction from the worgs.

"That is yet to be seen, human." The lead worg growls out in the common tongue. His red eyes glint as it watches the party, perhaps looking for an attack, or appraising potential weaknesses.

[Sophistemon]

Wolves that speak like men. What madness was this, and why hadn't Zane yet experienced it? He has a great familiarity with mental infirmary, but not once has an animal addressed him in such a manner. His wine bottle, occasionally, but never an animal. "They talk," he murmurs. And then, to Samuel: "And you knew they could talk. What kind of a wolf can talk?" He pauses a moment before addressing the wolves directly, his weedy voice raised loud enough for them to hear: "We mean no quarrel," he states. "We're just heading towards civilization."

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff's experience is that the best combat situation is one that is avoided. He keeps his sword at the guard position, but allows Samuel and Zane to speak with the beasts.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel looks at Zane, and smiles a little. "No, I didn't. I'm just willing to try every possibility."

He turns to the lead worg, sheathing his weapon as a sign of respect before bowing. "My name is Samuel of the house of Harrow. We mean you no issue. We simply need to go further down the road; we have been entrusted with a task. We ask for clemency."

Even though he's sheathed his weapon and bowed, he is still holding his weight on his rear foot, so that he can draw his weapon and lunge at a moment's notice. Sheathing your weapon when there's the possibility of avoiding a fight is prudent. Not being prepared for a situation to go bad is not.

[UncleWolf]

"Don't insult them. They aren't wolves. Wargs are much smarter and more impressive." Jean tells Zane as he steps forward. "We don't wish to cause any harm and merely wish to pass. Would you honour us so?"

[Gullara]

Katla growls a little and straightens. She still keeps her ritiik pointed in the general direction of the wargs, but doesn't look like she's about to rush at them and stab them to death... for now.

[Shadowcaller]

"And I'm Tyri, ambassador for the gwaith. As he said, we mean you no harm, we are simply trying to help other two-legs who have called for our help." The druid argues as she steps up near Jean, Samuell and Zane.

[Artemis97]

"Then pass." The warg concedes. "But do not leave the road. We will be watching." He warns.

[Gullara]

Katla lets out a low growl and mutters under her breath. "<Try watching us when I put out your eyes.>" She's speaking Elven, though it's more out of habit than any fear the wargs will hear her.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel nods, and then looks thoughtful. "'Do not leave the road'... is that a warning, or a threat?"

His paranoia is still rampant.

[UncleWolf]

Jean gives a nod towards the Warg. "Thank you. We won't stray." He promises them before looking at Samuel. "Why would there be a difference?" He asks rhetorically before gesturing that they should move on.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff nods approvingly toward Jean and Tyri while sheathing his massive sword. "That was well-handled. The best battle is one that never takes place at all." He says. He moves to the front of the group again.

[Sophistemon]

Zane slightly lowers his hands, which had risen into the obscurely arcane casting posture that had sprung into his mind when the wargs had first appeared, and glances towards the others. "What?" he whisper-hisses. "No! They'll turn on us the first chance they get!" He gestures plaintively at Samuel. "We'll turn our backs on them and they'll be at our throats - you know that! We cannot trust these wolf-beasts." And then, to Katla, the blood-hungry elf: "You know, too! You know they can't be trusted. Better to slay them now and be sure than to risk an ambush later."

[Shadowcaller]

"No." Tyri says loudly, her voice clear and collected as she looks over the group. "We don't have the time to hunt down these worgen. If they leave us alone, we shall repay them in kind. I suggest we focus more on getting to those who have requested our aid then trying to kill everything we encounter."

[Gullara]

Katla starts nodding in agreement with Zane, though her motivation is different. Tyri's words cause her to redirect her attention, however. She just stares at Tyri for a moment. "We'll just have to watch our backs then." There's more than a little venom in her tone.

[Sophistemon]

Zane's hands lower all the way and the magic fizzles out with an audible pfpht and a visibly dying glow of multicolored motes. He looks between Tyri and Katla before his gaze settles on the former. "You'll get us all killed," he says, sadly. "If not now, than later. I've seen it happen before." And he has seen it happen before, even if he can't quite remember the particulars. He knows that he has, the way that he knows that his name might have been Zane, and that his favorite drink is 'anything alcoholic'. He finishes his protest by saying, "Do you think they'd not attack us if they weren't afraid of losing?"

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff grins at Zane. "Then they are all the wiser for not engaging us in battle. He who willingly fights a losing fight is a fool. Simple as that."

He looks around him. "I see no reason to fear those creatures."

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel raises an eyebrow at Zane.

"You are no strategist. If they don't attack us, then we'll have the ease of not having to deal with them. If they do attack us, we'll be expecting it and have the advantage.

To Samuel, this is obvious. As clear as day. But then, he looks at things differently than others.

[Shadowcaller]

Tyri shakes her head at Zane, "If they had wanted to ambush us they had done so already, not ruin the advantage of surprise by showing themselves first so we'd be prepared next time. They gave us a warning, simple as that and I don't feel like discussing it anymore. We should be pressing onward, not stand here talking among ourselves all day." She says while looking at the horizon, ignoring her elven companion venomous tone.

"I understand your fear but I feel it might be safer if we stay on the road, not getting ourselves lost in some dark forest as the sun sets. We might even make it to town if we hurry." An empty promise but to her it was still better then hunting down the worgs.

[Gullara]

Katla snorts loudly. "<Lost.>" She starts walking forward before anyone else can speak. Anything is better than standing around yapping at each other. She's not going to wait for them, and they'd better have a damn good reason if they want to make her do so.

[Artemis97]

As most of the group stands around talking, the wargs melt back into the trees. It's almost a certainty they're still watching, just out of sight.

Then a sound comes from the north. Those with sharp ears will hear it first. A quiet hissing, steadily growing, building force into a low rumble. A few heavy, cold drops of water fall from the sky before a wall of rain comes in a silver sheet, engulfing the forest, and our would be heroes.

[Shadow of the Sun]

As it starts raining, Samuel looks up to the sky, a smile on his face.

"The gods favour us, it seems."

He shakes water out of his hair and shivers a little. It is obvious that he is not particularly comfortable, but the rain appears to have significantly improved his mood; he seems to be fretting less, moving in a more relaxed way.

"Now that it is raining, we have two choices. Moving forward, or making a camp to wait out the rain. I would personally prefer to keep moving, but I can understand the appeal of making camp. Fire, it seems, will be out of our grasp...or would be, were it not for our esteemed friend."

He nods his head at Zane.

"If we keep moving, the rain will provide cover for us, and will ruin any tracks we might leave." His tone and demeanour mark that he considers this to be very much a good thing.

"I leave it up to you. I am happy either way, provided we choose a good site."

[Sophistemon]

The thin man looks at Samuel and says "Fire?" He scratches his head with a gnarled fingernail and searches the interior of his brain for something the word can connect with. He perks up and suddenly smiles. "You mean magic! You mean magic fire!" He then frowns, despondent. "No, I can't do that. I never was that much good at combustion. Stupid of me. Someone - I can't remember who - someone once told me that I'd be no good to anyone without the explosions." The rain pours down, first beading in and then flattening his roughly cropped hair. He hops nervously from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm, and fiddles neurotically with the loop of rope he has hooked to his belt. And then, a sudden flash of insight! "Wait!" he calls out. "I can't make fire, but if you're looking for a warm place to stay the night, then I know just the one!" He grins, widely.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff grumbles at the sudden downpour. He checks his scabbards to ensure that they remain watertight, and he wraps his travel cloak about him and pulling his hood over his head.

"It is late, perhaps a dry spot to camp for the night is in order."

[Gullara]

Katla looks into the sky, enjoying the feel of the cold water on her face. This country is too warm. She knows, however, that it won't feel so pleasant when she's soaked through. "We should camp, yes." She agrees.

[Sophistemon]

The crazed magician looks from Katla, to Sheriff, to Samuel. "Yes?" he asks, seeking confirmation. "Yes?" And then, giggling madly, he removes the rope from his belt and un-loops it so that it falls in long coils to the ground. Gripping one end of the rope in a thin-fingered fist and raising the other hand in an arcane gesture, he shouts "Yes!" and hurls the end of the rope into the air, where it sticks fast to nothing. He looks at the others, his eyes wide, a crooked grin disfiguring his features, and points to the suspended cord. "Well? Who's first?"

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel raises an eyebrow. "May as well be me."

With both arms, he grasps the rope and begins to climb. He does so easily, with a lithe grace.

[Gullara]

Katla glares suspiciously at the dangling rope. Magic. At least Tyri's magic she could make some sense of. This, however, is foreign and unfamiliar. She's not about to show any more hesitation at a rope, however. that would make her look weak. The elf grits her teeth and deftly climbs the rope right after Samuel.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff is, likewise, put off by such a casual display of magical power. To him, it was little better than the would-be bravos back home who would wave their swords around and trying to intimidate those that had no hope of fighting back, or were unarmed.

Still...the rain was miserable, and the road dangerous, if it offered some comfort for the night, Sheriff was all for it. He climbs up after Katla, unable to help but appreciate her muscled legs and backside as he ascended behind her. Obviously this woman had seen battle, and her scars and muscles held an appeal to the half-orc...

When they are in the special, magical alcove, Sheriff reaches into his magical bag of holding and withdraws a bottle of wine. He deftly removes the cork with his tusks and takes a long draw. He offers the bottle to Katla, wiping his mouth. "Care for a nightcap?" he grumbles in his low bass voice.

[Gullara]

Katla gives Sheriff a toothy grin and takes the offered bottle, and immediately takes a few large gulps from it. There's no savouring the taste with this one. She cuts off with a satisfied exhalation of breath and hands the bottle back. "Sheriff, right?"

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff doesn't answer at first, preferring to take the wine back and drink deeply first. He wipes his mouth again before answering. "Yeah, was one back West, name stuck."

He hands the wine back to Katla. "What damn fools we are, eh?" He says, glancing out at the hard rain.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel is always Samuel.

And that means he is always vigilant, always practical.

He's not entirely knowledgeable about magic, and as such, he's treating this little villa as if it were any other shelter they'd found- a cave, perhaps.

He sits, and watches the entrance, his eyes narrowed and his hands crossed over himself in such a way as to be warming as well as too put his rapier within reach for quick-drawing.

"I don't know about magic all that much. But even if I did, I'd suggest that we sleep in shifts and watch the entrance."

He continues to watch, waiting for the rest of the party to climb up the rope. He's still concious that one of them or more might have been attacked before getting to climb the rope.

[Sophistemon]

After the others have climbed into his conjured sanctuary, Zane grips the rope in his thin-fingered hands and gives it a sharp tug so as to attract their attention. "Pull me up!" he calls. "Once the rope and I are inside, the dimensional bubble will be nearly undetectable from outside!" He waits, tapping his foot impatiently, and looks nervously over his shoulder. Now that he's alone, outside in the rain, undefended, he regrets waiting for the others to go first.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff obliges, yanking hard on the rope with his powerful, skillful arms.

[Gullara]

"Katla." The elf says, unsure if she's already told him her name. She looks outside as he's pulling the rope and chuckles a little. "You think this is bad weather? Come up north for snowstorm, I show you bad weather. Can't see, can't breathe, dead in minutes."

[Shadowcaller]

"I'd ask how it works, but it probably wouldn't make any sense to me." Tyri mumbles as she looks at the end of the rope doubtfully. They called it 'magic', a term her mentor had claimed was things were out of this world, part of another. She on the other hand communicated with nature and asked for favors, it wasn't 'magic', it what was people called the natural laws or whatever. She just used them in her own way. Or at least that's how she understood it.

She takes the rope and slowly climbs up, just in time to hear her companions comment.

"It's not that bad Katla." She reminds the elf. "But it's certainly is a lot worse then this." The druid comments with a smile before settling down on the ground, taking up her pouch of water to drink.

[UncleWolf]

Jean settles in next to Tyri and takes a sip from his own wineskin. He's quiet, and after a moment, closes his eyes and begins his nightly prayers. He'd have preferred to do so indoors and next to a warm fire, but if this is what Helm wished of him, he would settle for it and persevere as he has always done.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff nods thoughtfully at Katla and Tyri's comments. "I've heard the snows are ungodly up North. I'd sure like to see it sometime, if I ever happen to wander in that direction. I always seem attracted to the worst that nature has to offer... Beats living in the city, I suppose, where it's not the weather but your fellows that you have the most to fear."

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel chips into the conversation. However, he doesn't look around. He keeps his eyes focused on the entrance, and the window. The others should be able to tell that this isn't supposed to be an insult; instead, it's about the sheer level of crippling caution that he puts into everything.

"I, on the other hand, was born in the cities and have spent most of my life in them. I've had to move about quite a lot, though. Probably lived in 10 cities in my life so far."

If his appearance is a good way to judge his age, and why wouldn't it be, that's quite a lot of moving about for someone so young.

[Sophistemon]

Once he's pulled up into the extra-dimensional pocket, Zane quickly retracts the rest of the rope and loops it to hang from a hook on his belt. "There!" he says, twisting around to face the others. "All comfy-cosy in my little home away from home." He grins at them, and it is discomforting, showing far too many teeth. "Did you know that I haven't paid for a night in an inn for over five years? I just sleep here. Well, not here, since it's a new pocket each time, but you know what I mean." He settles down into a seated position and rocks himself back and forth. "It's so nice to be useful for once. Usually it's 'Begone, filthy beggar!' this and 'Eurgh, it's him again!' that." He stops rocking at stares at them intently, shifting his focus from one face to another. "The pocket will last us about twelve hours, by last count - I had to stay awake to find out! - so there's plenty of time for us to get a good night's sleep and wait out the rain."

[Gullara]

"I prefer wilderness to cities." Katla states as she nods in agreement with Sheriff. Things are simpler there. At least, in her narrow view of the world. The elf levels her gaze on Samuel, then Zane. "Does city make you so jumpy?" She asks the former.

As she waits for a reply, Katla begins the process of removing her armour and damp furs for the night. She's entirely unconcerned that her remaining clothing amounts to little. Around her waist is a simple loin cloth and made of some much lighter and softer fur. Her chest down to the bottom of her rib cage is covered similarly with loose furs. What's left exposed is as heavily scarred as her face, some looking particularly nasty.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel quirks an eyebrow at her.

"I'm not jumpy, I'm cautious. What makes me so cautious is that I'm a wanted man in at least ten cities."

He gives a small smile, continuing to watch the outside of their little ethereal palace using the conveniently provided window.

"Within a week of my leaving each, there was generally a high profile political murder."

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff alternates from stealing leering glances at Katla and frowning at Samuel.

"I'll go ahead and take first watch, just in case. I don't fully trust this... pocket..." He says, not moving to remove his armor. He glances at Samuel, then Katla, "and I'm not particularly sleepy at the moment. I have more than enough consitution to stay active for long periods of time."

He does remove his cloak and spreads it out, helping it dry faster.

[Gullara]

Katla smirks openly when she spots Sheriff stealing one such glance. She doesn't bother covering up at all. Modesty is such a pointless concept as far as she's concerned. "Go ahead." She doesn't mind sleeping.

But first, she has to return her attention to Samuel with some obvious scorn evident. She takes a moment to come up with the word in Common, but gives up in favour of simpler words. "Paid killer?" She spits the words.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel raises an eyebrow at Katla.

"Paid? No. I am a noble. I don't need to work for my money."

He spreads his hands and smiles.

"No, I am put to use by my king and my family. Helping secure the political interests of the state. Really, I'm kind of a knight.

But where your typical knight is a sledge, I'm a scalpel."

He then turns to Sheriff. "Don't worry about me. I am a killer. I won't deny it. But I have honour, and you may rest assured that you are safe in my company. I would gain nothing from killing you- politically or materially. You are safe."

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff replies only by shaking his head. "There is no honor in what you do. A knight, you call yourself? I have known knights, my friend, and while they are a varied bunch, I know that you are no knight."

He sits up and stares at the exit of the dimensional pocket they are resting in. "There is only honor in facing your opponent directly...like a man does." He puts extra emphasis on the last part.

"I do not fear the likes of you. I used to put people like you away, daily."

[Shadow of the Sun]

"Honour only in fighting an opponent face to face? I disagree. What if one death stops a war? What if a single assassination saves lives?"

Samuel shrugs, and raises his hands to face level, both empty and open, to show that he is not armed.

"If you're really bothered, I'll leave my rapier and bow in your custody until morning. As a sign of faith. I am a man balanced on the precarious balance of necessity, and while I'm not a good man, I am an honourable one. Allow me to whet my blade, and if you desire it, I'll surrender it to your custody until we start moving again."

He smiles again, tugging at his forelock.

"Besides which, I have some skills you might find useful- I have significant skill in languages; when I said I was a diplomat, I was telling the truth. It was my cover, true, but I had the skills."

It might strike those in the party that Samuel's willingness to surrender his weapons is out of character. If one considers it in a deeper level, however, it's not.

Samuel is practical, and cautious. Having to share a living space with people that don't trust him isn't useful, nor is it prudent. He wants to ease over any conflicts they might experience, because he's in this for the long haul.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff chuckles. "I said I have no fear of you. Keep your blades, Sam, and get some sleep."

[Artemis97]

Night passes and our heroes are kept safe and dry inside the dimensional pocket created by Zane. Any who remain awake on watch will see little more than the continually falling rain drenching the forest floor below. Occassionally, the night is broken by the flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder. Once, near midnight, a haunting howl is raised by the Worgs who reside in the forest. There are far more voices in this chorus than the handful that was met on the road.

The storm breaks just before dawn, leaving a wet chill in the air. Below, the forest floor is obscured by a layer of white mist, hiding the thick mud on the road which will be discovered by the first to climb down once the rope is lowered. The mud makes the journey along the road a slow and tiring task. Fortunately, it is not long before you reach the border of Barovia.

Cold, grey light filters through the trees, the sun still hidden behind them. In the distance a structure is seen. Wreathed in fog, high stone pillars loom up from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road. Huge iron gates hang from the stonework, dew clinging to their rusting bars. Standing before the pillars are two stone statues of armed guardians wielding wicked polearms. Their carved heads lie among the weeds at their feet, neatly broken from their stone shoulders. Tendrils of dark ivy twine their way over the stone and iron, slowly reclaiming the structure for the forest.

[Sophistemon]

Zane had been the first to leave the bubble, for no better reason than he had been the first to wake up. His sleep had been plagued, as always, by a sinister slapdash of malformed memories, terribly incomplete, with terrifying implications. He had awoken today with a whimpering "I'm sorry!" before using the rope to slip down to the road, where his boots sank into the mud. The storm had left the path a mess of puddles and slime, and so Zane took the opportunity to relieve his aching bladder by the side of the road. He looks up at where the bubble would be, as indicated by the rope, and thinks. His new companions bothered him. One of them, Samuel, was a killer, and apparently so good at what he did that he didn't fear to make it known. Another, the Sheriff, regarded Samuel with repulsion. Katla, the elf, was wild, and the scars that snaked across her skin spoke volumes about her history of violence. Zane didn't feel safe among them. "I should go," he whispers to himself. "Head back to the bar, pretend this never happened. Never, never happened. People there don't like me, but at least there's bread and beer and a fire to sit beside." He shuffles, dancing from one foot to the other, his steps squishing in the mud. "But they need me," he argues. "They'd have been cold and wet and sleepless without my magic. If I follow them, I could do some good, I could help..." He stomps a foot down with a splash. "They didn't thank me!" he retorts, his voice rising with anger. "Didn't say, 'Good job, Zane! Thank you for the floating room!' They didn't even talk to me! Just ignored me like everyone else, everyone else. Filthy beggar. Worthless old man." He looks down, sees his face reflected in a puddle, and stomps his foot into it with a screech, wiping it out with an explosion of muddy water. "Useless!"

He's calmed himself down just enough by the time the others emerge from the bubble that he doesn't appear distressed.

[Shadowcaller]

The keeper climbs down the rope quickly, she had slept well enough despite their unfamiliar surroundings. She couldn't help to feel tired however, seeing all these new things just took more energy somehow.
It was nice to have slept inside though, for all the good things in nature, she actually preferred to stay inside while she was sleeping. Mostly since you usually froze to death if you fell asleep in the wilds where she's from, but still.

As they finally reach the borders Tyri looks curiously at the statues, her people had never made such things mostly since they had never seen any need for them. She can't help being amazed at how much time and effort people must have used just to make these stone men which now slowly are being reclaimed by nature.

"Impressive, I've never seen such a thing before. Your lands have very talented sculptors. People do very interesting things when they don't have to struggle to survive all day." She comments while slowly walking closer to the two statues.

[Gullara]

Katla moves along with the group at a restrained pace. She'd like to pick up the pace a bit, but she resigns herself to staying in step alongside Tyri.

When they arrive at the statues, she looks up at them and snorts, evidently not as impressed as her companion. "Waste." She mutters and prods at one of the heads with the back end of her ritiik.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel keeps silent, his eyes examining the gate, trying to ascertain if they're locked and, if they are, if they're locked using a method he recognises and can bypass.

[Artemis97]

When Tyri closes the gap between the group and the gates, a deep groaning sound eminates from the structure. There's a rustling in the ivy vines that cover the old iron gates. The gate was slowly forcing its way open, struggling aggainst the vines. All at once, there are many snapping sounds as the vines break. Bits of debris are thrown off. With a great squeal, the gates slam open and shudder to a stop.

[Gullara]

Katla points her ritiik at the gates as they begin to move and drops into a ready stance. Her eyes dart back and forth, looking for a threat. When it becomes evident that the gate simply opened on its own, the barbarian straightens and spits. "Magic."

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel narrows his eyes, and draws his rapier, which seems to slide over his knuckles as he does so.

"Be on our guard, perhaps?"

He takes a step forward, ahead of the group.

"Maybe you'd prefer not having an admitted murderer behind you. So I'll go ahead of you. That way, I can search for traps."

He narrows his eyes, which are constantly darting, looking to anything that could be an ambush, or a trap.

[Sophistemon]

Zane looks at Katla and smiles broadly, revealing twin rows of slightly yellowed teeth. "Maybe not, mm? The door might have opened mechanically, via a series of weights and pulleys." He could find out easily enough, as he possesses a spell that would allow him to detect magical resonance. It may - he can't quite remember, exactly - be one of the first spells he'd ever learned, back at whatever school of magic it had been where he'd acquired his education. But it doesn't really matter how the doors open, only that they did. In any case, the wizard nods to Samuel. "Yes, yes," he says. "Go on, go in, go find an inn. We'll have to find a place to stay; I'll need my drink before too long. I haven't been this sober in years and it disagrees with me." He plucks an invisible, twelve-legged spider from his sleeve and casts it aside before it can lay its thousands of slimy eggs inside his skin. "The delusions are starting already and none of us want me going mad again, mm? That'd be trouble for all of us, I think, yes. I'm at my most coherent when I'm slightly sloshed, so let's not waste any more time." He points to the gate. "Chop, chop, all! In we go."

[Shadowcaller]

Tyri pays no heed to Katla's first comment, looking in awe at the gates in motion. It was like seeing the subtle motions of nature like how the thaw causes great chunks of ice to break loose during spring.

"We'll be on our guard." She promises Samuel, only really half-listening to him as she steps towards the gates, intended to enter. The druid wanted to see what possible wonders which could wait within. Sure, the whole place was foreboding but that it was no use standing here doing nothing and she found it easier to met these things with wonder rather than fear.

[Artemis97]

The party walks through the gate without any trouble. No traps trigger, and nothing leaps out of them from the underbrush. Once they pass, however, another fatigued groan emanates from the gate behind them. Faster than they had opened, the gate slams shut with a deafening clang. Birds, startled by the sound, take wing from the trees. The vines that cover the gates shake from the movement, and finally settle, looking as if they had never been disturbed at all.

[Gullara]

Katla prceeds with the others, none too pleased with the situation. She prefers foes she can see, understand, and stick something pointy into should the need arise.

So when the gate swings closed behind them again, it's safe to say that it does little to improve Katla's mood. She growls under her breath looks around for any sort of threat.

[Shadowcaller]

Unlike her companion, Tyri isn't looking for something to fight, instead she focuses on any more signs of the unique architecture she saw at the gate. Could it be possible to build something like that back home?

As the gates slams shut the wolverine next to her growls loudly. Distracted from her sightseeing Tyri kneels down to calm the animal down. "Shhh... it's okay." She says, but does take a look around, alarmed by Skrack's growl.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff nods at Zane. "I know a few tricks about mechanical devices..." he glances back at the gate. "And traps of a magical nature. However, magic itself...I have little trust for." He follows this up with drawing his greatsword. He walks beside Katla, the massive blade resting on his right shoulder.

"I doubt there is much that you can't handle under arms, Katla..." Sheriff murmurs as they trudge along.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel remains mostly silent, his eyes twitching from side to side ceaselessly, looking down at his feet, and up in the sky. Looking for any possible traps.

Finally, he pipes up. "Once we enter any buildings, you will not walk ahead of me, unless you want to end up caught in a trap."

[Gullara]

Katla chuckles and favours Sherrif with a toothy grin. "I am not in ground yet, am I? The thing I cannot handle will be the cause of my death. Nothing more, nothing less." She says confidently.

[Shadowcaller]

Tyri looks up into the skies as she calms down the wolferine which appears to have been startled by the birds. "Who would place a trap for us? The worgs? This is a clear sign of civilization which we just happen to be looking after, just look at the sun bringers." Tyri comments as she points at the ravens. "They are a good sign, we're on the right path." She tells the group while slowly standing up again.

[Artemis97]

Stretching ahead of our would be heroes is a dirt path cutting through the forest. It was not particularly well maintained, the underbrush encroaching on both sides, thick limbs closing in from overhead, shrouding it in shadow despite the rising sun. The road was still choked with mud from the previous night's rain, and a thick mist clung to the ground, writhing around the trunks of the trees. A slight chill will be felt, stepping onto the shadowy path.

[Sophistemon]

Zane cackles upon hearing the Sheriff's statement. "Oh, hoh -- he doesn't know!" the half-mad wizard rhymes, shortly before stumbling and catching himself only a fraction of a moment before tumbling to the ground. "Magic's no more frightening than that sword in your hand, child. There's nothing much too scary about a hunk of lifeless metal. But when you take that metal, and hand it to someone who knows how to use it, and you give them foul intentions... that's when you're right to be afraid." He lopes his way back into position. "But you needn't worry about old Zane -- no, no, he may not be normal, but he's not a threat and you shouldn't fear his magic. He's helped you once already, mm? Made that lovely floating cottage to keep us warm and dry?" At that point, he sees the patch that cuts across ahead of them. "Ah!" he exclaims. "A path! Fortune smiles upon us in her hateful, vicious way." He mutters something and picks at his ear. "No, no, I didn't mean it. It was a joke."

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel purses his lips as he sees the ravens - which he can see quite clearly - and looks at the path ahead of them.

"Personally, I would prefer it if we did not continue to follow the path. We were tasked to come here due to a crisis, and that crisis could lead to the road being watched by someone who is not as willing to let us pass as were the worgs."

His hand is resting on the hilt of his rapier, his eyes narrowed.

[Gullara]

"I doubt very much you cause fear. Not from Sheriff, not from me." Katla says distainfully. Even the suggestion that she would fear anything, let alone his tricks, is an insult.

The next target of her distaste appears to be Samuel. "But maybe you make this one fear. He already fears much." She bares her teeth in a mean looking smile. "If we are stopped we put them down."

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel gives Katla a return grin, which is rather mean in return.

"I don't have fear, my lady. I have caution. And be thankful that I am the member of my family you called a coward- were we in other situations, there would be a duel.

But you are useful to me, so I don't think I will run you through. Yet."

His hand is still laying on the hilt of his rapier, and his weight is on his back foot. He's ready.

[Sophistemon]

Zane cackles. "Oh, you people..." He wipes an eye and motions them forward. "Whichever way we go, however we decide, we need to be going now, please. I'm starting to see things that aren't there, and it won't end well for any of us if I start casting to get them away from me." He swipes at something in midair, and then frowns. "Damn. Almost got that one. In any case, if you two want to fight each-other, and I'm not saying that it isn't something that I'd like to see, you can do it in town, yes? Fights are best witness with a cold mug of something in your hand, anyway, mm? Come now, poppa needs his medicine!"

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff shakes his head and points forward with his massive sword, held aloft by one broad arm. "We go then..." he grumbles, stalking forward.

[Gullara]

Katla gives Samuel a hard look for a long moment... and then bursts out laughing. As if Samuel told a particularly good joke. "Come." Is all she says before following Sheriff.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff fights a smirk himself, sharing it only with the warrior woman. His gaze travels to and fro. Everything he says indicates this as a strange and hostile land. If there were Wargs about, then there were possibly goblins, or worse, that allied themselves with that ilk.

The heavy blade resting against his shoulder provided comfort. They were not simple travelers, but hardened adventurers. The perils of this land would not take them so easily.

He looks to the sky, and frowns.

[Shadow of the Sun]

Samuel, as is his wont, is entirely focused. His mind is running furiously as his eyes dance from side to side, looking for any possible traps or ambush routes.

He doesn't doubt that he and the others could take any enemies they came across. But he has learned that prudence is more powerful than the might of man or beast- often by experiencing what happens when one his targets has not been prudent.

[Shadowcaller]

Tyri have already started walking along the path, more interested in the path ahead then at their argument. "Try to enjoy the sights around us instead of being at each others throats. Katla, can't you sing one of your famous traveling songs?" She suggests to the elf with an smile. Of course, infamous might be a better word to describe her songs.

[Artemis97]

As the group walks, the mists around them become thicker. Soon, the gate behind them is completely lost in a field of white. Strangely, the path before them remains relatively clear. Yes, the majority of the fog was concentrated behind them, now, flowing and building, obscuring the direction from which they had come.

[TwoBitWriter]

Sheriff pauses, sniffing the air as the mists surround them.

"Sorcery?" he asks, looking to Zane.

[Gullara]

Katla laughs. "Few would understand, and I would not want to offend the noble with crude barbarian songs." She leers back at Samuel.

...

The barbarian's earlier mirth is lost at the sign of a potential threat. No, not any threat. Something she could sink her ritiik into would be welcome. This mist is just frustrating.

[Sophistemon]

Zane grins and wags a finger. "I can't tell just by looking, warrior. I would have to use magic of my own to discern it. Shall I?"

[Artemis97]

The fog grows thicker, and forms into snaky tendrils that seem to wrap themselves around you. Horrific forms shape themselves in the mist. Gaping mouths and bony claws attached to monstrous forms that shift with the smallest movement of the air. The faintest hint of ghostly moaning reaches your ears, sending a cold trickle of fear down your spine.

[Gullara]

Katla's head whips back and forth as the... things emerge from the mist. She can't fight these. She doesn't stand a chance, none of them do. With a fear the barbarian has never felt in her entire life, she turns and runs down the path. She doesn't make it far, however, before she loses her footing in the slick mud and hits the ground hard.

[Sophistemon]

Shortly after addressing Sheriff, supernatural goings on begin to occur, and the stringy wizard begins to back away from the grasping claws, the gnashing teeth, the wailing voices. "Oh, no," he can be heard to mutter. "I must be more sober than I thought... damn that barkeep, I knew he was watering his wares! When I get back to town I'm going to turn him into a..." At that point, Zane begins his expeditious retreat, about-facing and booking it as hard and as fast in the opposite direction as his legs will take him... before abruptly slipping on the moist earth and crashing to the muddy ground in a tangle of limbs, robe, and beard. "Oh, no!" he wails, and reaches up to his face to tug on his mustaches. "No, no! I didn't mean it! I swear that I didn't mean it! I thought you could get out! I really, really did! I'd have never left if I thought you couldn't get out..." And then the panic overtakes him, and there are no more words, only a huddled, sobbing mess that has contracted itself into the fetal position, a weeping wizard hugging his knees to his chest in the mud, rocking slightly and truly, truly pitiable.

Get a hold of yourself, coward! his conscious mind retorts. Be sorry later, over a mug of crude beer. You know your hallucinations; are you sure that these are they? Where are the spiders? The bleeding walls, the ghastly cries for help as flesh is torn from bone? I don't see or hear them; do you? The wizard shakes his head, no. Then what do you have on you that you can use, Zane? What can you do to get yourself out of this? Because if you die here, in the mud, like a squealing baby, you're never going to make it right, and they'll have died for nothing! "No!", shouts the wizard, and he reaches into his belt pouch for a handful of finely-powdered iron, salt, and silver. He pushes himself up onto his knees and quickly scatters the concoction around himself in an uneven circle that, once completed, flares with light.

Actions:
Zane is using his Standard Action to cast a Magic Circle Against Evil (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=365288) around himself.
Hopefully, this will be enough to keep the creatures at bay while he thinks of a plan.

[Shadowcaller]

The druids fascination over the landscape quickly wanes as the fog starts to descend over them. Of all things Tyri hated fog and darkness or rather what they did; clouding her vision, hiding the world from her.

"Keep calm..." She tells the group as the mist start to surround them but is perhaps talking more to herself. She seem slightly nervous though, this was no ordinary mist, it didn't behave in a fashion she was used to.

Then all of sudden Tyri freezes, was that movement in the mist? "Let's walk a bit faster." She suggests to the group as an sudden dread start to wash over her like the mist surrounding them. The world seemed to quickly grow darker and all of sudden she could see it.

Stopping dead in her walk, the druid simply turns around and flees as she feels her instincts taking over, all she knew was that she needed to get away as far from here as possible. Skrack have an similar reaction, and whimpers loudly before fleeing.

But as the two flee in panic Skrack knocks the druid over as he runs past her, causing her to slip down in the mud and fall prone while the wolverine quickly disappears into the fog.

[TwoBitWriter]

Too much

It was too much for even the likes of Sheriff. He nearly held his composure, and certainly his will held longer than his companions. But this was too much.

"We have no choice... we must flee!" He barks, dashing away from the specters and losing his footing in the soft mud. He falls to the ground with a loud swear.