The Curse of Strahd IC

[PallentisLunam]

While few would describe life in Vudkholl as idyllic, neither is it a picture of abject misery. The town is small, but prosperous and close knit, and although life's work is hard, it's rewards are sweet. Every morning the main road is flooded with the aroma of fresh pastries wafting out of the baker's shop. Every third day there is a market held in the square. The people are hardy and friendly folk. Even the autumn chill creeping into the air does little to herald the woes of winter that a warm fire and cup of mulled wine could not drive away.

But perhaps not all is as it seems in Vudkholl. Rumors and trails have brought together an unlikely and disparate band to investigate what appears to be an abandoned manor house a short ways outside the town. On a clear day it can be seen from the bell tower of Vudkholl's church, but few in the village seem to have anything to say about it. Most change the subject or profess ignorance when it is mentioned. With a touch of perseverance it can be learned that once, several generations past a family of wealthy burghers lived there. The master of the house might have had something to do with windmills. Whatever he did, his mistress and their three children, or maybe it was only two lived comfortable lives, waited on by servants.

Nobody seems to recall what became of the family or who owns the manor these days, but since no one can produce the deed to the structure or prove inheritance through blood it simply stands there, just past the border of the town proper. Somebody must be caring for it, since it has not become overgrown or run down, but none of the townsfolk will admit to the work, nor have been seen coming or going.

[Tycho42]

Robart tightened the strap down to his backpack, and then rechecked all of the bindings to ensure that he had everything he needed. He knew, more than others, the value of preparation and making sure he had everything he needed. One more stop to make, and then he could meet the others to go to the manor house.

He walked towards the dry goods store, making a mental checklist of what he’d heard in terms of rumours. He didn’t expect any of the superstitions to be true, but he also didn’t want to risk it. “Could I have a half pound of salt, any verbena you might have...and can you trade to give me 10 silver pieces? Ah, and a sack to hold it all in?” He waited as his purchases were tallied and paid, having two of the items he needed. “I’ll take these, too, and a small box if you have one.” He picked up six flasks to augment his own supplies.

On the way out, towards the house, he stopped by the church and asked if he could receive the priest’s blessing on some holy water, which he promptly placed over his heart in a pouch sewn there into the long coat he wore over his shirt and apron. As he drew near the house, he sat on a rock, pulling out his pipe and smoking while he waited for the others.

[Luccan]

Varic was waiting already, meditating on a nearby patch of dry ground. He sits calmly on his knees, his spear and meager belongings at his side. He hadn't spoken to anyone that morning; spending most of the last decade on his own, it simply hadn't occurred to him. He nods to Robart when he approaches, however, and stands to collect his things.

Thank you for coming. There is a mystery that hangs over this house, one I cannot penetrate with only my mind. I fear my body might not be up to the task on its own. It is good to have companionship His voice is quiet, like he hasn't had much practice speaking. His intense gaze returns to the house.

[Kvard51]

Kristof unfolds himself to his full 6'7" height as he rises from his knees, his prayers for protection and wisdom to the Patriarch complete. He was glad to have companions on this investigation, if even half of the rumors he had heard were true. Hefting his shield with the Patriarch's sigil on it, he walked over to join his companions, tucking his silver holy symbol into his sleeve where it hung from his wrist by a simple chain. His warhammer and crossbow hung at his waist within easy reach, along with his lantern and a pick for cutting through stone. "I see we are all ready. I will lead the way, if you wish.", he said as he hefted the lantern at his belt.

[Hattish Thing]

O'Byrne shows up somewhat later than the others, first visible as a stumbling silhouette wandering about the beaten path. As she draws closer, she raises her right arm over her brow in order to shield her bloodshot eyes from the sun. She waves as she approaches, taking the time to point specifically towards Robart before shouting out, "Oi! Tiny man, it's good to see you again!" When she finally reaches the little group, she's sure to offer a halfhearted gesture towards the others. "And, erh, the rest of you. Honored, I'm sure." She smiles awkwardly. The woman has clearly seen better days. Her once-fine noble's clothes are tattered and stained, and her bloodshot eyes are surrounded by darkened bags. The scale mail armor she wears is dented and dirty, and the rapier scabbard at her hip is falling apart.

With a great yawn, the woman sets her backpack down before retrieving a metallic flask from her hip. O'Byrne takes a long swig of the foul-smelling brew within before cursing and shaking her head. "Nrgh. Now that'll wake you up." As she pulls up the collar of her unusually-cut greatcoat, she stumbles towards Robart. With a slightly hushed tone, she mutters something to him.

"Weren't it supposed to be just us? Who are these... people?"

[pr0l0t0r]

Zakariah Vigil - Human Hedgesummoner (Conjurer)
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A black cat with one raggedy ear and orange eyes lolls on a branch, blending into the shadows of the tree as the woman arrives to join the motley crew near the house. Rising lazily and arching its back, the cat settles into a sitting position, turning its head to look at something in the woods, well off the path.

Zakariah Vigil draws his awareness back into himself with a soft inhalation of breath. He hadn't yet gotten used to the sensation of swapping bodies with Fetch, his familiar. Everything was both sharper and hazier in a cat's body, every image superimposed by a cascade of smells and sounds that the human senses couldn't pick up. Still, he had seen enough, the others had arrived and seemed un-brigand-y enough that the wiry dark-haired man no longer suspected an ambush.

Can't be too careful round these parts. he thinks to himself as he heads towards the party, approaching from a stand of trees rather than the main path. Pitching his voice low, he calls out to the cat in a harsh, guttural language that is most assuredly not a tongue of man. <<Well done, you. Come 'ere.>>

The cat jumps onto his shoulder and bats his ear, not gently, as he emerges into the clearing near the house. He waves over at the group previously assembled, jogging the last few steps. Mornin' all. Got a bit lost in yon woods, hey? Name's Vigil, well, uh, Zakariah proper-like, but folks call me Vigil. Oh and he gestures to the cat staring at the group imperiously this little fiend is Fetch.

Turning to squint at the house with one eye, he adjusts the leather travelling bag hanging at his shoulder. Err, so who wants t'knock?

[Kvard51]

Kristof flexes hands the size of cured hams and says in a low rumble, "These hands seem made for knocking, do they not? I am happy to take the lead as we enter this house of rumor."

[Luccan]

You seem suited as any other. Let us be about our business. Varic will follow Kristoff towards the house, his spear leaning in the crook of his arm. He'll watch the windows of the house, if it has any, as they approach.

[Tycho42]

Robart smiles at the jest from the significantly taller woman. He had long accepted the name, and it was a point of recognition. It gave him a brand of sorts. “Aye, it is. Glad to see you’re here as well. Ready to venture into the heart of heavens knows what for honor and glory?” He stood up from his rock to swing in behind her and the others, taking the note and measure of what he perceived all of their capabilities to be.

“I’d be happy for you to knock, my friend. Doesn’t matter who takes the first step, I guess.”

[pr0l0t0r]

The shabby looking wizard and his black cat break out into simultaneous grins. Such a profusion of kindness! Friends, the secrets of yon house will be ours, and some riches, too if'n we're lucky, eh?

He holds out his arm in an "after you" gesture, wiggling the fingers of his other hand at his side to conjure a little spray of illusionary flower petals to mark the path for the first to approach the door.

[PallentisLunam]

The manor house is a tall, stately affair, three stories at least, with multiple gabled peaks in evidence and intricate wooden traceries and white latticeworks covering the green walls. Heavy curtains hang behind each of the house's many glass-paned windows blocking all views inside. A third floor balcony overlooks the small cobbled path leading up out of the woods to the iron gate which bars entry to the sheltered portico. Multiple chimneys climb the walls of the home, ending in tall stacks that rise to the level of the building's chief peak. Although there is no sign of even so much as a game trail leading from the road to the manor, a well worn track, trodden down to the dust through the tall grass native to the region runs around the house and from the servant's door to the covered well nearby.

After introductions are made but before any meaningful inspection of the manor or its surrounding grounds can begin, an elf comes crashing through the underbrush. His hair is grey and wild, matching with his eyes. His clothing is tattered and dirty, but this is no mere vagabond. He is absolutely armed to the teeth, and his weapons appear quite well cared for and maintained. "STOP!" he shouts causing several birds to flee nearby trees with a startled flutter of wings. "Stop stop STOP" The elf is nearly hyperventilating and clearly all but out of his mind. "You can't. Y-you can't- can't go in there." He begins to shake his head violently, causing his various weapons to clatter about noisily. "Can't. HE will take you!"

[Tycho42]

“Woah, woah, slow down there.” Robart raises and spreads his hands in a nonthreatening manner. “Who will ‘take us’?”

[Luccan]

Varic spins towards the elf, spear ready, but brings it back to a less hostile position as the elf shouts a warning. He keeps a wary eye on the rest of the woods nearby.

[pr0l0t0r]

Fetch arches his back and hisses as the late arrival charges from the woods. The cats claws dig into Vigil's shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. Gods, blast it, Fetch!

[PallentisLunam]

The elf continues to ramble as if he didn't hear Robart's question, but his breathing slows as he catches his breath after what was apparently a mad dash through the woods. "You mustn't- Mustn't go in there! It's one of his lures- one of his traps. Those who go in- they never come out!" The beautiful manor stands as if to defy any of the sinister implications of the elf's mad raving. The bright midday sun overhead seems to burn away any fears, misgivings, or threats the crazed vagabond might inspire.

Spoiler: Perception Check; Open on attempt

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Spoiler: Results <1-9

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You see one of the heavy curtains behind a ground floor window near the gated portico twitch, but you only spotted the movement, nothing more.

Spoiler: Result >10

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You see a small pale hand pull back one of the heavy curtains covering a ground floor window off to the side of the gated portico. The frightened face of a preteen girl peeks out for the briefest of moments to see what all of the commotion is before letting the curtain fall back into place.

[Tycho42]

Robart continues on, heedless, though raising his voice a little, perhaps for someone else’s benefit. “It’s alright, there’s no fighting here. Let’s all just take a breath and talk about things calmly, yes? Here...have some water.”

He takes his waterskin and extends it towards the elf. At the same time he moves next to Brandi discretely, nudging her slightly, and lowering his voice to almost a whisper. “Window, if you didn’t see. Young girl, watching us all.”

[pr0l0t0r]

Zakariah overhears the small man's whisper and confirms a little nervously. Aye, I saw her too. Was hoping I didn't, but, well, there's a l'il girl in that manor.

The cat turns to peer at the panicky elf as Vigil continues. And best thing about traps is if'n you know they're there, you can usually turn 'em.

[Kvard51]

”Are you sure you saw a child? All I caught was a curtain moving.” Kristof makes the sign to ward off evil towards the elf. “This one brings bad omens with his babble, it seems. Let us be off to spring the trap.” and with that, he draws his hammer from the loop on his belt and marches up the steps.

[Luccan]

I hope all the house's residents are as unthreatening as this child. he turns to the other elf and speaks in ElvishSpeak clearly or be off. We've no use for madmen and precious little time to be wasted

[PallentisLunam]

With the strange elf in tow, muttering snippets of, "Mustn't let them go" and "Mustn't let him take them, too," Kristof and Varic approach the main door of the manor house. The short flight of three stone steps are swept clean, their fit perfectly level, the dark slate grey complementing the house's green paint elegantly.

A pair of beautifully carved and stained wooden doors stand eight feet high and positively shine with love and care from behind a black painted wrought iron gate with hinges worked to resemble creeping vines. A simple, unadorned and unlocked latch rests in its catch opposite the hinges. An unlit oil lamp hangs in the center of the portico from a chain, level with the tops of the doors. There is not a stray leaf, bit of dust, or cobweb to be found in the portico. A thin, stark white rope with a golden end cap dangles down from a brass bell that hangs to the left of the doors.

[Luccan]

This is strange indeed. How has no one seen the people here?Varic will motion to the door You wished to do the knocking, yes?

[Kvard51]

Kristof gives the bell-pull a firm tug, ringing the bell more loudly than strictly necessary. "Hello the house, is anyone home?"

[Hattish Thing]

O'Byrne watches quietly from the side, a disapproving expression upon her face as the elven madman rambles on about the house. She'd heard of stories of 'haunted' houses from her grandfather, but the vast majority were simply that; just stories. With a scoff, O'Byrne rolls her eyes and drinks deeply from her flask, pointing a gloved finger at the supposed vagabond. "Surely you've something else you could be doing right now?" She sighs and hooks her flask back onto her belt before stepping past the man, muttering towards the assembled party. "I wouldn't be worried. A small town like this, stories turn to legends within months, not years."

The woman does notice the small, pale face in the window, however. "Huh. I thought this place was supposed to be abandoned."

[PallentisLunam]

Despite Kristof's firm pull the bell tinkles brightly, like a child's laughter. Nothing happens for a few brief moments, long enough for the explorers to exchange glances before the crisp, clear sound of a bolt being drawn back breaks the silence of the portico. The darkly stained doors swing inward soundlessly on well oiled hinges.

The daylight steaming in over Kristof and Varic's shoulders illuminates a long narrow entry hall. The middle of the room is carpeted with a thickly woven rug of deep crimson edged in gold fringe laid over more grey flagstones. Strikingly realistic oil paintings of men and women hang at regular intervals on both walls. At the far end of the hall a pair of lighter doors, both in color and weight, are flanked by two narrow, floor to ceiling crystal windows.

[pr0l0t0r]

Zakkariah looks over the shoulders of his more martial companions and, seeing the coast is clear, sidles between them and enters the house, admiring the plush carpet and the fine paintings. There will be wealth here for us all I reckon he reflects.

He channels briefly and summons a spectral hand, appearing as a three-fingered claw whose wrist is manacled with a short length of chain dangling down. The hand floats over to the paintings and lifts them one by one, shifting them aside to inspect for safes or hidden compartments. One never knew where the silver is kept. he thinks wryly.

[PallentisLunam]

Zakkariah's spell knocks the paintings askew in their gilded frames but doesn't have the force to lift them off of their mountings. The figures seem to scowl down at the magician reproachfully but nothing more. No secrets are revealed by his search, however Zakkariah does notice that each painting has a small plaque affixed to its frame, identifying the subject. It seems that husband and wife are mounted facing each other across the hall way, with several generations of the Durst family in evidence.

As Zakkariah's investigations draw to an end with nothing to show for it, he ends up standing near the second set of doors at the far end of the hall. The sunlight does not fully illuminate this side of the room and Zakkariah's attention is drawn to his magical construct. It is emitting a soft silver light that flickers like a candle's flame and a thin mist, like one's breath on a chill morning, can be seen to roll off of the claw and its chain. What's more, the skin is stretched tight over the bones, making it look even more disturbing.

[Luccan]

Varic follows the mage inside and inspects the name plates while chiding him Let us try not to break anything. The owners of this house are strange, but if indeed they still live here then knocking things about seems rude. He does not set anything askew back in its place, however.

[Kvard51]

Kristof enters the house behind the others, taking in the paintings and furnishings. Ignoring the mage's antics, he quickly strides to the far end of the room, taking up position at the double doors.

[pr0l0t0r]

Satisfied that there were no secrets hanging about in the entrance hall, Zakkariah dismisses his conjured Mage Hand with a flick of his wrist. Fetch, his "black cat" familiar, hops down from his shoulder and sniffs the carpet exploringly. It's back arches and the beast hisses before bounding back to Zakkariah and clawing its way up his back to his customary perch on his shoulder.

No surprises there, eh, Fetch? What'd you expect, the carpet to smell like fresh rushes?

The hedge summoner hangs back as his companions tromp in, content to let them take the lead at the interior double doors.

[Tycho42]

Robart enters and does take a moment to straighten out the pictures. He casts a raised eyebrow around as he noticed a few eyes looking at him.

“Either they’re alive, we’re intruders, and knocking things about isn’t going to ingratiate us to them...or this house is haunted and tales say ghosts aren’t keen on their goods being disturbed.”