[D&D 5e] [IC] The Curse of Strahd - Group 1

[SquirrelKing]

The Curse of Strahd
Group 1

12 Kythorn 1489

Through a combination of serendipity and luck – and perhaps some would say fate – the group individually found themselves along the famous Trade Way south of Waterdeep. Perhaps some of you traveled there together in groups of two or maybe even three. Whatever the case, you were all within the famous Way Inn, a veritable walled fortress that doubled as a merchant’s waypoint and watering hole along the heavily used trade route.

While having dinner and listening to travelers’ tales, they observe people from many different nationalities and hear a multitude of accents. But instead of the usual uproarious chatter and lively music, much of the conversation is subdued and quiet. Groups keep to themselves largely, but similar topics can be heard among them all. They’re all speaking of the events far to the north, as Neverwinter and surrounding areas are largely in ruins thanks to the Sundering - the eruption of mount Hotenow. Of the hordes of undead and elementals and worse horrors stalking the land there, preying on the survivors. And they speak of a thick fog that rolls out from the aptly named Misty Forest to the east – and an unseasonable cold chill to the air during this early summer settling over the area more and more.

Dinner concludes without much fanfare, but before each of you can retire and go about your merry way, a rather large man with the robes and darker skin marking one from Calimshan enters the tavern and loudly proclaims the he seeks able-bodied men and women to bring thieves and murderers to justice! Seeing this as a call to arms, all of you answer the man’s summons.

He introduces himself as Samaz, the guard leader of a caravan belonging to the Sand Lion Trade union. He tells a strange tale of a night-time ambush amidst the fog of oversized bats attacking the caravan, carrying off a few members (who were never to be found again). After the battle, Samaz says that they discovered that someone had stolen various goods. Given the concern for their merchant captains and noncombatants, the guardsmen did not pursue. Instead, Samaz’s superiors granted permission to hire a group of mercenaries (read: adventurers) to recover the stolen goods with promise of fair coin for their efforts.

The group learns that the missing items include:
- A small container of rather valuable gems
- A small box that had a small cache of magical wands within it
- A few well-crafted blades
- A small box with custom-ordered pendants for a craftsman in Neverwinter

Samaz gives the group a magic ring that is tied to the missing box of gems. It points the way to the box at all times, but does not indicate distance. And so the newly formed group of five agree to take on the job with promises of significant coin for the safe return of as many of the previously listed goods as they can.

13 Kythorn 1489

The day starts drearily as rain clouds had moved in overnight. Light drizzle greets the travelers as they buy provisions and then set out from the Way Inn. Their trip is mostly uneventful except for a trio of orcs that attempt to waylay them, which ends poorly for the outmatched would-be raiders. At night they experience the cold, cloying fog that creeps out from the forest to their east like a quiet hunter, stealing their warmth as they try to sleep. Occasionally, during the night they see fleeting dark shapes in the mist, both in the air and nearer the ground – any investigation into them reveals naught. During the day, the fog recedes to the borders of the forest, watching as an animal in a cage would, eagerly awaiting release.


http://i.imgur.com/AzvKqS7.jpg


14 Kythorn 1489

On the second day of travel, the summer rains continue as they reach the described site of the caravan's ambush. They find little evidence that any battle had taken place there, mostly due to the heavy amount of travel along the road and the rain. Using the ring provided by Samaz, they get the sense that the missing jewel box is somewhere to the east, towards to the forest. The search commences.

The day grows long and the sun begins to hang lower in the western sky. They are led by the merchant's ring in the direction of a steep hill. The fog from the forest rolls and swirls its way down the hill, meeting the travelers halfway and greeting them with a cold embrace. Towards the top of the hill, at the edge of the blurred forest line, they find a curious, if not disturbing sight. The ground is littered with dozens of dead black birds. The “beacon” from the ring points ever forward, beyond the threshold of the mist-laden forest.

An uneasy pall settles over them as they creep forward through the underbrush of the old woods. The forest quickly grows thicker and the dead black birds continue to litter the ground. They reach a small clearing and barely have time to react before screaming assailants come rushing at them from the fog. They are men and women in strangely colorful dress, brandishing swords and yelling at them in a language the group has not heard before. They have an unsettling look in their eyes, a combination of fear, rage and wild abandon as they attack.


http://i.imgur.com/gsjxuR6.jpg


After disposing of this threat and silence returns to the clearing, they hear a man’s gravelly voice not far away. He is chanting repeatedly, again in an unknown language. The group creeps forward and sees a man standing at the far edge of the clearing. The mists seem to recede of their own accord to provide them with a clear view of the scene. He is an older man, skin pale and wrinkled with a shock of graying black hair atop his head. He is wearing similarly colorful clothing, but it is faded and torn with age and wear. At his feet rest three small, opened wooden boxes arranged close together in a semi-circle as well as a pair of crossed blades. He is speaking rhythmically in that foreign voice and brandishing a short curved blade.

He seems to suddenly notice the group (or the first stealthy character) approach for the first time and he stops chanting and opens his eyes to reveal milky white orbs with no pupil. He speaks loudly and wide-eyed in a strongly accented common tongue, “I have seen you! And so I have waited! I give you Servants of the Master, forcefully taken and Servants of the Enemy, willingly ended. Your invitation is now complete and I humbly serve as the key!”

His sentence concluded, he drags the curved blade across his throat, gurgling and releasing ribbons of sanguine fluid all over the ground ahead of him. His face is strangely calm as he chokes and sputters on his own blood. He gathers a pool of the warm red liquid in his hands and flings it in an arc, the spray of blood hitting the boxes and blades in front of him.

Then, he drops to the ground face-first, lifeless.

Night draws nearer and you have confirmed that the blood-soaked boxes and their similarly-bloodied contents are indeed the missing items. As you begin to gather the goods together, the mists close in and surround you once more, bringing a deep chill to your bones. You’ve gathered them up and stowed them away, ready to return them to Samaz and be done with this eerie assignment. You search through the corpses of the attackers as well as the old man and find a small handwritten note on the old man. It simply says, “Bind them to the tarokka. You know their faces. You know the means. Send them to me.”


Okay! Welcome to the IC thread everyone!

Introduce your character and give their reactions to the other characters and any events along the way that have led you to this point if you wish. Also, indicate what you do from here. The group is still in the clearing, wrapping up the process of gathering the equipment and searching the bodies. Do what you will!

[Byunny]

It was a good crew, all in all. It was better than most, in fact; this odd quintet never left her feeling as if she'd wake one morning with a knife twixt her ribs, which was more than could be said about some street gangs. Besides, she trusted Gaven at least, and the strange Sorwan fellow had actually been a welcome sight, steel mask and all. She hadn't been able to get much of a read on the elves in their three days' travel, but they seemed competent and unlikely to betray her and leave her for dead.

Flannery cheerily decided that she liked this party, even as she ducked under a sweeping battleaxe, whirling up with a vicious uppercut into its orcish wielder's groin and following with a swift elbow to the back of his knee. It never did well to antagonize the little folk, did it?

Flannery recoiled, hand over her mouth, as the man flings his own blood outward before falling to the ground dead. "Never... uh, never seen that before," she murmured unsteadily. "Bloodshed's one thing, but what sorta Sunless place did that come from? I... if you've got any of yer learned prayers, they'd be real appreciated right now Gav."

The halfling inched forward, muttering curses under her breath as she peeked about the boxes, checking for the gear Samaz had sent them after. The activity was calming, in a way, and when she spoke again her voice was steady. "Most of the stuff we're looking for is here, though it could all use a bit of a wash. Wands're in pieces though, looks like, damn shame." She fished up the silver dagger the man had used to take his own life up. "Pretty thing to do summat so gruesome, isn't it?" she said, eyeing the silvered weapon warily.

[grifter730]

Sorwan rushed towards the madman, knowing that the slightest hesitation could cost the man his life. He nearly reached the man as he crumpled, but by the time Sorwan placed his hand on the man, it was too late.

"Savages! Is this normal behavior for people in this region?" Sorwan turned around to ask the group. "Only an unsavory host would slice himself before offering drinks first. Savages."

Flannery had appeared, and was checking the man thoroughly. Sorwan glanced at her, he had taken a liking to the halfling. She was one of the first he'd ever seen, and her humor and demeanor was pleasant to be around. A silver dagger caught her attention, and its glint matched the one in her eye.

"That's the blade that did the deed, indeed." Sorwan nodded at her. "Be wary, it may be cursed. I'd prefer to refrain from seeing another dead person before my first drink. Let me see if there's anything magical amongst the items."

[SquirrelKing]

As Sorwan's eyes take on a gentle glow in the misty gloom, he sees that a few of the vials on the old man and on the strange attackers are magically enchanted. Additionally, the remaining wand in the box emits a magical dweomer, despite the wand being cracked down the slender stem. The remaining pieces of what used to be wands have a fading magical emanation - they weren't broken very long ago, but their magic is well and truly spent.


As indicated in the loot list, the only magical items were the three potions of healing and the wand. Spending a short rest with the wand reveals that it is a wand of magic detection, meaning it can cast detect magic. It has 2 charges remaining, and each day will refresh 1d3 charges (up to a maximum of 3 total charges on the wand).

[Rookwood]

Ivellios calmly strolls towards the body, and gracefully selects one of the vials. He glances inquisitively towards Sorwan "Are these of any use, my friend?" and with his answer he slips the vial into a pouch in his clothes. Ivellios moves on to the bloody boxes and promptly closes them, cuts a section of the dead man's robe off, and wraps the boxes in them. "I suppose we are to return these?"

[Fishybugs]

Gaven surveys the carnage, and his eyes widen in surprise when the man slits his throat. He nods his head. "It was a warriors death he wanted, it seems. To die by the blade is an honorable way to go, though it looks like he lived without much honor."

Gaven looks through the equipment, scavenges a long sword with good balance and belts it around his waist. He then helps the others count things up and prepare it for transport back to Samaz.

[SquirrelKing]

With the goods gathered and secured, the group bids the gruesome scene a quick farewell. Their footsteps through the forest undergrowth are muted and shallow as the mists press ever closer. Soon, the silvery-grey mists grow so thick that they lose track of their companions. The sounds of their footfalls and their voices as they call out to each other are muffled and mangled. The mists seem to take on grotesque shapes. The sounds each person makes echo back to them as though moans of spectral pain.

The tension finally breaks as the mists thin, revealing the landscape again. But something is wrong.

The air is colder. The trees here are tall looming evergreens with branches that claw at the mist, whereas the forest was full of majestic oaks and maples and birches just a moment ago. Gone are the sounds of insects buzzing and chirping. The only noise comes from their own breathing and movements.

A few steps later as the mists recede a little more, the group stumbles out of the forest line and onto a lonely, muddy dirt road. The sky overhead is overcast and dark, well into the night if the group had to guess.

A wooden sign rests on the path before them in the gloom, having fallen off a tree. Next to it is a dead crow, frozen by rigor mortis and partially eaten by vermin. In oddly slanted letters, the sign reads:

Welcome to Barovia

[Byunny]

"Thank Lathander we're outta that bloody wood! I'll be glad for a pint of-" Flannery's words are cut off by a macabre sight. "Well, that's new."

The halfling glances around at her party before cocking her head to the side to read the sign again. "Now, I'll be the first to admit I'm no fancy geographer, but I've not heard of any place called 'Barovia' anywhere near here. And the mist from earlier..." she clutches the wicked silver dagger at her hip. "Some black magic?"

[Rookwood]

"This isn't any magic known to me, little halfing; however undeniable it may be." Ivellios replies, stiffening with unease.

[grifter730]

The suffocating fog of my childhood nightmares has gripped me, its cold touch snuffing all warmth. I am thankful for this cursed mask that hides my face, for I dare not show weakness in front of a new crew. Yet, I fear for all our lives, for I sense we were all of us drawn to this place not by chance, but through a dark purpose.

The mist has receded slightly, though the fog of mystery has only thickened. It seems we have arrived at Barovia. My comrades look about as pleased as I am. I jest with them to bring levity and camaraderie, yet I fear that approach may soon have to give way to the truth.

Whatever befalls us, I feel that the search for the reality of my nightmares is about to see its long-awaited conclusion. So I must steel my resolve, and mask my fear with a singular purpose: to do great violence upon those who have harmed me.

[Fishybugs]

Gaven slows to a stop as they emerge from the bedevilled fog. He reads the sign, and mutters "Borovia...I've never even heard.... The half-eaten raven causes his eyebrows to raise just a trifle. "Something's giving me a chill clear through to my bones." Gaven absent-mindedly places his hand on his warhammer as he looks around. It doesn't make the chill go away, but he feels a little better.

[SquirrelKing]

The five of them stop for a moment to assess the situation. The air is still and heavy, almost expectant, as if the very land itself is holding its breath awaiting their next move. The trail to their left disappears off into the heavy mists after a dozen or so yards. To their right, beyond the decrepit sign and the rotting raven corpse, the trail continues into the gloom until their eyes can no longer penetrate the nearly full darkness. The only meager light they have to rely on is a heavily obscured moon above - and even it seems different than the one they're used to.

A few moments later, the lone far-away, mournful howl of a wolf pierces the silence.

[grifter730]

I look over the group to address them, "If this is a town entrance, one path may be the same as the other. If no one has been here before, shall we?" I gesture over to the trail on the right, for no other reason than to simply choose a path.

[Rookwood]

With silent affirmation and a firm nod, Ivellios begins to stride down the path.

[Fishybugs]

Gaven, hand still on his warhammer, follows along, chill still running down his spine. Something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Torm protect us, he thinks to himself.

[SquirrelKing]

The group sets off down the muddy lane under the faint moonlight that escapes through the heavy clouds above. The mists close in behind them, seeping from the forest to swallow the road where they were just standing. Before long, the crow corpse and the moldering sign are lost to the thick fog.

They follow the muddy lane for about five minutes. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches seemingly reaching towards them to pull the nearest victim into the mist that envelops them.

After the fifth minute, a rather large shape begins to materialize in the gloom ahead. Those with darkvision are able to see it first, followed by those with no special eyesight. Jutting from the thick woods on both sides of the road are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the tall rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the massive gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet the group only with silence.


http://i.imgur.com/zSMPCbD.jpg

[Byunny]

Flannery grunts in response to Ivellios. "Damn it all. And I'd hoped this would be a simple job, an' a chance to catch up with old friends."



The halfling grips her handaxe, biting her lip as she gazes up at the mighty gate. There is something macabre about it, an unsettling chill that Flannery just can't shake off. "We're definitely not on the Coast anymore. Keep like this doesn't just escape notice so close to proper civilization." After taking a moment to steel herself, the halfling steps forward. "But blackguard's trap or no, sometimes the only way is forward. Going back and hoping the mist'll take us back home again seems foolhardy to me."

[grifter730]

This locale has the strange custom of greeting strangers with death. If seeing a man slicing his own throat wasn't welcoming enough, perhaps a couple of colossal statues with chopped-off heads may be more to your liking. What dark creatures must lurk behind these doors?

Looking at the rest of the group to make sure we're all still together, I cautiously walk towards the gate to see what lay beyond.

[Fishybugs]

Gaven looks at the entrance with a sense of doom. Nothing holy lived in this place. Well, he knew how to handle the unholy, but he wasn't too excited about sharing the risk with a bunch of strangers, and definitely wanted to keep Flannery out of as much danger as possible. "Remind me why we didn't turn around and walk back the other way?"

He carefully inspects the statues prior to examining the gates, which appeared to be standing open a bit. What kind of gate stands open to welcome visitors? Not much of a defense, which is what the rest of this castle clearly appears designed for, he thinks to himself. He looks to the others. "Deserted or trap, do you think? It can't be anything else, I'm thinking."

[Rookwood]

"Where else do we have to go?" Ivellios says, gesturing towards the path behind us, hand on his sword.

[SquirrelKing]

As the group approaches the looming gate, it opens of its own accord with a loud, long grinding metallic screech. To their left, some thirty feet beyond the gate is a corpse at the edge of the muddy road. Standing on its head is a raven that is plucking at its eyeballs. The rest of the young man's corpse has fared no better - his shirt, while obviously never in good quality in the first place, is in tatters and the skin beneath clawed and bitten horribly. His black hair is matted with dried blood, his face frozen in a wide-mouthed, wide-eyed mask of terror. The raven eyes the group suspiciously, standing guard over its meal - which dangles from its beak - jealously and letting out a shrill CAW! that pierces the otherwise eerie silence.

Beyond the gate and the corpse and raven, the muddy road continues through the thick, mist-shrouded forest into the darkness with no sign of civilization aside from the massive buttresses and gate. As the last person passes through the huge gate, it shuts slowly, squeaking loudly all the while and latches closed with a loud clang!. No guards or operators are to be seen anywhere.

[grifter730]

I sensed it would happen, and yet when the gate closed in upon itself, I was startled nonetheless. Something about this place puts me ill at ease, but there was no turning back now. Whatever danger awaits us, whatever invited us, surely lay in the darkness ahead. I fear the walls of this structure will entomb us all, and we have walked into a coffin of our own making.

[Fishybugs]

Gaven listens to the echoes of the clanging gate fade. He smiles a bit. Sounds like a jail door. Hopefully we'll be out of here just as quickly as I managed to get out of the cells, he thinks to himself.

"Alright, then. I suppose we start looking for ways outta here. I don't like feeling like a trapped beast." Gaven surveys the area they are in now, looking for any exits, any crumbling of the walls which they may be able to scale, or anything else of note.

[roll0]

[SquirrelKing]

Gaven thinks that the buttress walls extend several feet into the forest on either side, though it's difficult to ascertain the exact distance due to the fog and the thickness of the forest. The walls seem to be swallowed up by them. The thick forest would certainly serve to stop all but the largest mounted forces, but it seems feasible that anyone can enter the forest and walk around the admittedly intimidating gateway. As for cracks or weaknesses in the wall, he does not see any. Due to the style of the architecture, a skilled climber could probably scale it given enough time.

He turns around to share the news and spots something unusual. The corpse at the edge of the road has something clutched in its left hand. A crumpled scroll or parchment of some sort.


No other belongings of note are on the young man's corpse. The raven holds his ground and pecks at anyone's hand if they get too close to the face, flying away only if attacked or swatted at.

The parchment in his hand is a tightly gripped rolled up parchment, causing it to be greatly crumpled. The hand has to be pried open, but eventually it releases its prize.

In slanted, cursive handwriting, the note reads:
Hail thee of might and valor:

I, the Burgomaster of Barovia, send you honor—with despair.

My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena Kolyana, has been these past nights bitten by a vampyr. For over four hundred years, this creature has drained the life blood of my people. Now, my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. He has become too powerful to conquer.

So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with the symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the Devil may be contained within the walls of weeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.

There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all long departed for a better life.

Kolyan Indirovich
Burgomaster

[grifter730]

"We've just arrived here," I said to Gaven. "We may as well learn more about the place before going straight back out."

As he bounded off to examine the walls, I walked over to the squawking bird, kicking in its direction to deny its gruesome meal. Seeing something clutched in the corpse's hand, I pry it open and discovered a crumpled parchment.

My heart stops with cold dread as I read the parchment, and I clench my hands to stop the shaking. Whatever brought us to this place, be it chance or this vampyr the missive speaks of, I can no longer walk away from this. I mean to have this place cleansed.

I walk over to the group and hand the parchment, before moving cautiously forward once more.

[Byunny]

Curiously, Flannery snags the scroll from Sorwan, browsing its contents briefly. "Barovia... vampyr... oh damn it. Place is full of ghosts and zombies and monsters, innit?" She looks about at her allies, eyeing her masked friend's back in particular as he continues onward. She passes the parchment to the nearest member of her party. "Corpse is still fresh enough to get picked at by birds, means this poor bastard's not long dead and his missive's not too old."

The halfling scratches the back of her head. "So I guess you lot want to save the day, huh?" she calls forward. She leans from one foot to the other anxiously for a moment before shaking her head and striding after Sorwan. "Always wanted to save a princess, I guess."

[SquirrelKing]

Having examined the grim note and decided to continue forward to meet their fate, the group puts away the plea from the burgomaster and continues down the faintly moonlit path. Silence greets them on their journey. Silence and a faint breeze that sways the thick foliage on either side of them. The mist does not dissipate in the breeze, but instead swirls and roils in place as if angrily and stubbornly refusing to budge.

An hour later, they finally clear the forest just as the faintest hint of a sunrise hits the horizon behind them. So we're heading vaguely west, they figure. It promises to be a gloomy day, full of thick, heavy gray clouds threatening rain. When the forest line thins and then ends altogether, they find themselves looking out into an expansive rolling plain. Set against the dark sky to the northwest(?) is a gradually increasingly tall series of cliffs and mountain that blots out the sky. Further southwest and west of where they stand, the plains continue, but they're full of hills and rolling terrain befitting foothills of that massive mountain. Many miles to the south and north both are particularly tall mountains that form the borders of this valley.

The forest line continues due north and due south from where the road spills out from it. In the faint light of that early morning, about two or three miles to the west, they can make out the small silhouette of a town or village huddled at the base of that large mountain. The mist does not spill out from the forest, but instead remains within like a patient hunter waiting for unwary prey to wander too close. Meanwhile, the road beckons them to the west, bound for that village. Perhaps there they will find answers?


Here's where I have a question for you all. Would you like a map of the area you're in, or would that spoil the exploration?

The group can go whichever direction they choose. To the north the plains continue into steeper and steeper foothills. To the west waits the town - perhaps Barovia? To the south and southwest lay open field descending in elevation slightly. Those with the keenest eyes can barely make out the hint of perhaps a river about a mile south at the basin of those lowlands.

[Fishybugs]

Gaven studies the area, looking intently in each direction. His uneasiness has never waned, and his right hand has never left easy reach of his warhammer.

"The village. Let's start there. See if anyone has heard anything about the burgomaster, or any other odd goings-on. That term makes me hungry for some reason. Burgomaster. Hmmm."

[grifter730]

I look over at Gaven and nod my head. I can sense his nervousness, weapon out in hand. I can only wonder what I must seem to them. I clench my fist harder still, hoping to keep the shaking at bay once more.

[SquirrelKing]

The journey along the muddy road is uneventful. Pale morning sun begins to grow a bit brighter at their backs as they travel west, though the sun does little, hidden as it is by the dense clouds. Still, it is good to be able to see the tall grasses wet with dew at their sides. The fog still covers everything but not quite as thick and ominous as it was in the forest. It is still difficult to make out shapes too far in the distance, however.

Thirty minutes pass on the road before shapes begin to loom out of the chilly, cloying mists. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of darkness. No sound cuts the silence as they enter the village of Barovia. Nestled among these solemn dwellings are a handful of closed-up shops. Even the tavern is shut tight at this early morning hour.

A soft whimpering gets your attention though. Peering through the gloom, you see two children standing in the middle of an otherwise lifeless street. The girl is taller and older than the young boy, the former perhaps around ten years of age and the latter closer to six or seven. Judging by the similar jet black hair, strong chin and pronounced cheekbones, and because the girl has her arm around the boy, you would guess they were siblings. The young boy is clutching a worn, ragged stuffed doll and is sniffling and evidently the source of the whimpering you heard a moment ago.

As the group draws near, the girl half-steps forward and shushes the boy quietly and then turns to you. "Th...there's a monster in our house!" She points to a tall brick row house that has clearly seen better days. It's windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.

[grifter730]

My heart leapt at the sight of two poor souls in dire need of help. Even so, the very air of this place stirs my skin restless, and I look over the children to spot a sign of anything amiss, even as I draw my weapon and move towards their home.

"Who else lives with you?" I ask the children.

I just want to see if there's anything amiss about the children. Not sure what kind of check I need to make. Also, any kind of noises coming from their home? Anything sticking out as even more unusual about our surroundings?

[Fishybugs]

Normally, Gaven would leap into action at the request of aid from two small children. Maybe that's what slowed his response. He regards the children carefully for a few moments. This strange land had him on edge...of course he should help. His hand, still resting on his warhammer, finally pulls it out.

He waits to hear how the children respond to Flannery's questions.

Insight check on the children: [roll0]

[Byunny]

Flannery gave the children a wary berth, eyeing them uncomfortably. After everything they'd seen, two poor innocent children seemed about as likely to turn into horrible flesh-eating monsters as actually be what they seemed. But still, Flannery hesitated, biting her lip. Whatever horrors might be, it was hard to turn away from the lost souls; she couldn't really abandon these kids out of fear.

"Don't worry, we're friends. And we're also skilled warriors from... well, far from here. You're safe with us!" Flannery says. She looks the ominous house over and sighs. "Are your parents still inside? And is there anywhere safe you can stay if we were to go look for them?"