Curse of Strahd Solo Run (IC)

[RandomWombat]

Sokol picks up the shield and begins using it to clear dirt away, a little ways away from the tree roots. Gweyir takes the bucket. "I could have taken the form of some digging animal, but I used up all of my power earlier in the night. Not that I regret it - those blades would have hurt a lot more without it."

As the three of them work, Spider scurries around and above. Its quickly woven webs will do little to keep out smaller insects such as mosquitoes, but it should keep the eerie bats away and in their caves.

The work of digging takes hours, to make the grave deep enough not to be dug up by predators. Here upon the edge of the cliffs, in the higher parts of the valley, there is no worry of water flooding it out and away. By the time they finish, the moon has fallen beneath the trees and out of view, stretching darkness through the small nook of their campsite. The Spear of Light, perched in the ground like a streetlamp, oversees the last of their work.

With help from a few of Spider's strings, Anton is lowered into the grave and the undertakers climb back out. Still dressed in his suit jacket, his hands are folded in front of him, glasses tucked into his suit pocket and eyes drawn closed as if sleeping.

Then begins the work of the burial. Faster work, but no less strenuous. When at last it is done, and the patch of freshly moved dirt lie still once more, Kellon and Gweyir are tired out by the hard work. Sokol displays no signs of fatigue as he holds his hands upon his hips and looks upon their work.

Gweyir takes some stones from beneath the crags and lays them out as a grave marker. She sets Anton's wooden wand upon them, nestled in to rest above his head.

[Prehysterical]

It's hard and grueling work, but it's honest work. No slouching or cut corners for the man who fought, bled, and died beside them. As Anton is laid to rest in the grave, Kellon holds the man's journal and ponders it. There is a momentary temptation to keep it, to read the man's logs and gain more insight into his world. Ultimately, Kellon instead places the journal into the folded hands of his dead comrade. Anton's thoughts were his own and Kellon wishes to respect his privacy. Let the dead have their dignity.

While Gweyir sets up a cairn tombstone for the grave, Kellon stands still and bows his head in deep thought. There needed to be a sendoff to the man to speed him on his way home, but Kellon simply could not find the words. He had not truly known the man that long, so a traditional eulogy would ring hollow. Perhaps something more personal? Yes, like a sea shanty...

As the morning sun rose, Kellon finally raises his head. He thinks he has the proper ballad to commemorate the man's sacrifice. This country of Barovia was like a run-down ship, poorly maintained and helmed by a cruel captain. Far better that Anton should be far away from this place. With that in mind, Kellon sucks in a breath. His song comes out proud and exultant, tinged by sadness and grief and uncaring of any unwelcome attention it might bring. Anton deserved this moment.

"I thought I heard the old man say,
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her...""

[RandomWombat]

As Kellon begins to sing, Gweyir joins in. Though her time with the pirate hunters had been short, such shanties were commonplace on the wind and the waves. The first few verses Sokol only listens, but as the chorus comes around again he joins in, lending his deep rumbling voice to the harmonies.

Only Spider does not really sing, only swaying on its perch above to the tune of the song. Above Spider's web, the falling of the moon and the return of day sees the clouds ascend, shrouding the sun as it rises. A tide of white, a wall like the Mist itself chasing the colors of daybreak and replacing them with dreary filtered light that casts all in a somber tone.

As the shanty comes to a close, Kellon happens to look up. Atop the cliffs of the valley, far above them, is a skeletal figure on a horse of pale pearlescent bone. In one hand a tall shield of wood and tarnished bronze, in the other a polearm hanging beneath view. The figure seems to regard them for but a moment, before it turns its horse and gallops out of view. Death itself, come to preside over the funeral? Or just another of Barovia's macabre sights?

Whatever the answer, their rest has waited till morning. Perhaps for the best, the light of day chasing the nocturnal predators to their nests, lairs and burrows. With a deep sigh, Gweyir slumps down and gathers together some grass into a pile as a makeshift pillow, lying down upon the dirt. Sokol begins to pace the campsight idly, twirling a branch in his hands. Spider is curled up above upon its web, perhaps already rocked to sleep by their funerary lullaby.

[Prehysterical]

Of course this godsforsaken land can't allow a single moment of the sun shining... At least the stars got their fair time. The horseman is a puzzle, but one that likely won't rear its ugly head for a while. Right now, all the problems of the world could hold for just a couple of hours.

Kellon retreats into his shell atop Anton's grave. Hopefully, a quarter ton of tortle will help firm the dirt and safeguard the corpse of the hero within.

[RandomWombat]

Under the lukewarm light of a shrouded sun, Kellon slumbers in his shell.

Spoiler: Long Rest

Show

The party's long rest is completed without interruption, and they recover from their wounds.

By the time he wakes once more, Kellon stirs to noonday light, hanging high above behind the clouds. Sokol is standing at the edge of camp, watching the woods, and Gweyir has already risen from her meditation. There are a few bats hanging above in the webbing, wrapped up and drained to jerky by Spider.

Gweyir sets a wooden bowl from the house down in front of Kellon, trail rations inside mixed with a few freshly picked berries. "Picked a few from nearby. A little tart, but good to eat."

"Seen some things moving," Sokol comments. "Never come close, but watching. Look human, or human-shape at least. I'd watch our backs wherever we going from here."

[Prehysterical]

Kellon chuckles in good humor at Gweyir's thoughtfulness. "I'll take anything that can make it a little more appealing!"

As Sokol expresses his concerns, Kellon swallows and suggests, "Well, if they are sticking close to us like fish to a shark's tail, we might as well nip that jellyfish in its head. But let me get some fuel in the old furnace here. There's something else needs doing before we can leave today."

Once Kellon finishes his breakfast, he stands and finds a rock to stand on. He closes his eyes and opens his other senses, smelling the forest and the earth and the open sky, the moisture in the air. Gods, how he had missed this in that foul den of evil! If anything, Kellon feels like his connection to the elements is even stronger than before. Like the tide going out and coming in on a beach, Kellon allows the flow to weave through him.

Finally reattuned to the elements, Kellon asks for a pair of copper coins. They should have been placed atop Anton's eyes before his burial, but they had neither the power or time to do this properly. Hopefully, this would be enough. Kellon does what he can by burying the coins at the base of the cairn and sprinkling some salt over the grave marker. The prayer he recites over the grave seems almost chaotic and whimsical, but the fluctuating sounds and inconsistent stresses on syllables are dead giveaways for anyone with the ear for the Primordial tongue of the Planes.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Kellon performs a Ritual casting of Gentle Repose over the grave of Anton.

[RandomWombat]

Sokol pulls out the old pockets of his ratty jacket and finds a couple copper pieces, turning them over to Kellon. As he digs down and buries the coins, performing a prayer over them, Gweyir watches with interest. When he finishes, Kellon and feel a hum of magic sink into the earth.

"Keeping him fresh until we find a way to revive him," she says, part speculation but mostly for Sokol's benefit. "That should extend the window to two thirds of a month."

"If only the Dursts thought to use the same magic, perhaps I would not smell so bad, ay?" Sokol jokes, making a motion of sniffing his armpits. "I assume. To be perfectly honest, the smell of rotting flesh is disconcertingly appetizing these days. But worry not! Sokol Twiceborn is no man of feeble will."

Gweyir looks up at him, half amused and half concerned. "Alright. If you say so."

From up on its perch, Spider descends on a strand of web, landing beside Kellon. "Where are we going today? It's super nice to be outside again! I wish Anton was here to see it."

"If I may beg a favor," Sokol holds up his hand, with a silver ring around his ring finger. With some difficulty, he slides the ring off of his rotten flesh and holds it in his palm. "Unless many many years have passed, my wife and my daughter may still live in the village. Would like this returned to them, but ah." He rubs the back of his head through his hood. "Prefer them not to see me like this, yes. If someone could be kind and give this to my wife, Mary? Maybe tell my daughter, Gertruda, that I died a heroic death slaying a vampire spawn of the devil Strahd or something otherwise more glamorous than the truth, hm?"

[Prehysterical]

Kellon chooses not to correct Gweyir, but revival was not his intent. Even if by some miracle they found a way to bring back Anton and not some puppeteered corpse, there was still the problem of Anton missing an arm. The tortle was more concerned with ensuring that Anton would receive proper rest and not be raised as some foul undead in a twisted form of irony.

He regards Sokol curiously as the zombie makes his request. "I would be willing to, but there is the major problem that we are all outsiders. You, of all people, should know how outlanders are viewed in the village." Kellon steps forward and accepts the ring.

"We could spin a story about how you went down swinging against a squad of skeletons and a shambling monster, but there is one thing to consider: what if your paths cross again, however unlikely that may be? How are you going to explain your undeath then? I know that it would likely be hard for your family to see you like this, but don't they deserve to know that you still love them and think about them? Doesn't your daughter deserve to know that her father, even as a zombie, is still fighting the good fight against evil? It seems that hope is lacking in these lands, Sokol Twiceborn, and though you may not feel like it, you carry that hope forward... even if it's through luck."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Persuasion: (1d20+3)[15]

[RandomWombat]

"Ah, they will get used to you in time," Sokol waves off Kellon's concern with his now unadorned hand. "The ones that matter? In this sad land, they remember kindnesses. Repay in kind." He looks away as Kellon works to convince him to return in the flesh, unliving though it may be. It is the first time since his 'rescue' that his dead grin twists down into a grimace.

"And if she finds another man, finds new love? Who am I to deny that, to bring the sorrow of my face to her doorstep. Ack, but you are not wrong, my friend, and I cannot know for sure. If you believe true that I should, I shall go."

Gweyir's ears twitch and she turns towards the trees. Spider, too, has heard something and spins to face it. She points out among the bushes, shapes that have moved through them silently and now loom around the campsite. "Blights. Not friendly."

Shapes in the shrubbery and in the shadows of the wood stand in near-human forms, with gangly stances and empty mockeries of faces. One of the smaller ones, woody and covered in twigs, tilts its head slightly with a wooden creak as it is spotted. A taller one with needles and thorns adorning its back and arms bristles threateningly.

[Prehysterical]

The heartfelt moment is washed away on the tide as Gweyir alerts the party to the encroachment of their hidden watchers. Kellon does not know much about these things. Perhaps they are territorial?

He wagers that these creatures don't speak Common, but maybe gestures would serve just as well... Keeping his movements slow, Kellon grabs the alchemy jug and the wooden bowl. He pours fresh water into the bowl and sets the jug aside. Kellon steps toward the blights, making a show of taking a sip from the bowl of pure water. With a little water still dripping out of the corners of his beak, Kellon offers the bowl to the larger blight.

[RandomWombat]

The heads of the creatures nearby turn as Kellon moves, as if watching him. The one he holds the bowl out towards does not look at the bowl, but a few puffs of tiny dust like particles shoot out of small porous holes in its sides, hanging in the air and dancing around. As though on order, one of the smaller ones takes creaking steps towards Kellon and plucks the bowl form his hand, returning it to the large one.

Taking up the bowl, the large one dips a finger in and swirls it around. Almost immediately it drops the bowl in what looks like disappointment and points an arm at Kellon. A spray of needles shoots out of its fist and clatter against his shell.

The small ones begin swarming towards them, on jerky, creaking limbs. It appears Gweyir and Sokol were prepared for things to go south, as they respond quickly. The druid's sword quickly separates the first of the little creatures to charge at her into two halves, which fall to the ground in a cloud of wood splinters. "I'm pretty sure these things prefer to drink blood!"

Sokol steps up next to the bushes, stabbing with his short sword through the chest of one of the ones on the edge. Its body begins to turn grey and lose motion, like petrified wood, as Sokol yanks his blade back out. He grabs one of them and bites it on the face with yellowed undead fangs, breaking off a chunk of the empty eye socket. He spits it out on the ground. "Sap tastes like maple!" Taking offense at his tasting, the creature digs its claws into his unfeeling legs and begins tearing at flesh.

Spider skitters up to Gweyir's side and bites at one of the twig monsters, but the creature grabs Spider's fangs and holds it at bay for now.

One of the creatures springs from the bushes and jumps up on Kellon's back, sinking its claws into his shoulders. It makes no shrieks or cries of savagery; its demeanor is only silent, focused purpose.

Spoiler: Initiative

Show

Twig Blights A,B,C - 17
Gweyir - 16
Spider - 15
Sokol - 15
Twig Blights D,E,F - 13
Kellon - 12
Needle Blight C - 12
Needle Blight A&B - 10

Spoiler: Combat Log

Show

Needle Blight C shoots a needle spray at Kellon, but misses.
Twig Blights A,B,C Dash forwards.

Gweyir slashes Twig Blight C for 9 damage, destroying it.
Sokol slashes Twig Blight D for 7 damage, destroying it. He bites Twig Blight E for 3.
Spider bites at Twig Blight A, but misses.

Twig Blight E claws at Sokol, dealing 5 damage.
Twig Blight F claws at Kellon, dealing 2 damage.

It is Kellon's turn!

[Prehysterical]

Well, he tried... Kellon readies his warhammer with a familiar flourish and tries to repay the splinters with cracked bark.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Kellon attacks Twig Blight F
Attack: (1d20+6)[15]
Damage: (1d8+4)[7] Bludgeoning

[RandomWombat]

The warhammer scatters the blight's body as easily as he would some bushes in his path. Its pieces fly against the cliff face as its lower body greys and locks in place, as if petrified. His victory is short lived, as a better aimed barrage of tiny stinging needles embeds itself in the side of his face, narrowly missing his eye.

A scattering of needles flicks along Spider's side, leaving a few stuck in the carapace. Swerving around the grasping claws of the twig blight in its way, Spider delivers a deadly bite through its eye sockets, the blight twitching and going still as its dead form petrifies. Spider scuttles away, to confront the creature needling it from afar.

Gweyir circles around the twig blight in her way, taking a swipe along her side as she moves towards a needle blight peppering her with painful stings along her arm. She slashes her blade across the larger blight, leaving a sap-leaking wound across its torso. It seems to feel no pain, standing as still and calm as ever in spite of the damage.

Grabbing onto the twig blight beside him with his free hand, Sokol grabs onto its 'throat' with his teeth and rips it apart, then tosses it aside as he strides up next to Gweyir. With his blade, he stabs the needle blight through its core, exposed by her deep cut, and it begins hardening into a dead state.

A far cry from their struggles beneath the cursed house, the group cuts through the woodland horrors with ease, scything through them as a farmer cuts down grain.

Spoiler: Combat Logs

Show

Kellon strikes Twig Blight for 7 damage, destroying it.

Needle Blight C fires a needle spray at Kellon, hitting for 8 damage.
Needle Blight A fires a needle spray at Spider, hitting for 3 damage.
Needle Blight B fires a needle spray at Gweyir, hitting for 6 damage.
Twig Blight A claws at Spider, but misses.
Twig Blight B claws at Gweyir, dealing 3 damage.

Gweyir slashes Needle Blight B, dealing 8 damage.
Spider bites Twig Blight A, dealing 4 damage and destroying it.
Sokol bites Twig Blight E, dealing 3 damage and destroying it. He slashes Needle Blight B for 4 damage, destroying it as well.

It is Kellon's turn!

[Prehysterical]

Kellon cries out in pain at the stinging needles. "Spit in my eye, why don't you, you bastard?" The tortle whirls and swings at the bloodthirsty plant.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Kellon attack Needle Blight C
Attack: (1d20+6)[21]
Damage: (1d8+4)[6]

[RandomWombat]

Stepping into the brush, Kellon pushes the branches aside and delivers a heavy blow to the monster's torso. It bends backwards, with a new dent, but does not fall or go still. It lurches forwards and grabs at Kellon, scrabbling its razor claws against his shell, the barbs catching and sticking on its patterns ineffectually. The creature's head tilts to the side, as if confused by his sturdy hide.

Gweyir pulls the crossbow from her back with one hand, holding it out and pulling the trigger. With a thunk the bolt fires across the battlefield to spear through the needle blight's heartwood core. It twitches and then begins to lose its color, the bolt embedded in its chest. Sokol steps up beside her and cuts down the twig blight as he walks towards Spider and its foe. He grabs its body with his free hand and drags it behind.

Spider is less fortunate, as its opponent rakes barbed fingertips along its back, tearing at the arachnid's thick brown fuzz. "Ow ow ow! Let go!" Spider angrily bites back, digging its fangs into the blight's arm. Sickly grey lines begin to spread out from the wound like cobwebs.

Then Sokol tosses the other blight into it, and it falls to the ground, where it writhes and succumbs to its wounds, becoming trapped in a macabre tableau with the other creature. "Haha! Still got it!"

Spoiler: Combat Log

Show

Kellon strikes Needle Blight for 6 damage.

Needle Blight C claws at Kellon, but misses.
Needle Blight A claws at Spider, dealing 6 damage.

Gweyir fires her Light Crossbow at Needle Blight C, dealing 7 damage and destroying it.
Spider bites Needle Blight A, dealing 7 damage and 1 poison damage.
Sokol slashes Twig Blight B for 6 damage, destroying it. He uses his Interaction with an object to pick up its corpse, then tosses it at Needle Blight C as an improvised thrown weapon for 3 damage, destroying it.

Combat has ended.

[Prehysterical]

The crossbow bolt is a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. He rubs at the stinging pain of the needles in his snout. "Is everyone all right? Anyone need healing?"

[RandomWombat]

Gweyir takes a moment to reload the crossbow again for future quick use and slings it back onto her back. "I'm fine, mostly. Nothing a short break later wouldn't fix."

"Right as rain, my friend."

"It hurts a little," complains Spider, crawling over towards Kellon.

[Prehysterical]

Kellon comforts Spider as if he were a small babe. "I know, I know, little one. Here, I'll make it all better." The tip of a claw gently presses on Spider's carapace and the morning light seems to shine just a bit brighter in response.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Kellon casts Cure Wounds: (1d8+3)[5]

He tries to pull the stinging needles out of his face, wincing at how close they came to his eye. "Och, that smarts! Gods, it's like a sea urchin danced a jig on me! Gweyir, can I get some of that healing druidic balm of yours?"

[RandomWombat]

There is a chittering sigh of relief as Spider's wounds heal, new fuzz growing in over the wounded patches. "Much better now! Thank you!"

"Here, let me see. I'll need to pick them out first," walking over, Gweyir holds Kellon's head still with one hand and carefully plucks the needles out with the other. It's far from a pleasant process, even if necessary. At last, she lets go and nods. "That should feel better," she says, magic in her words weaving into Kellon's wounds and mending the little stinging pinpricks.

Spoiler: Mechanics

Show

Kellon is healed for 6.

[Prehysterical]

There is still a bit of stinging from the scratches in his shoulders and the dull ache in his face, but Kellon feels much better as promised. "Ah, thanks, lass. That was a nice shot, by the way. Honestly, I am surprised that the bloody thing even worked, since we found it on the first floor of that damned house." To reflect on that point, Kellon pulls the heavy crossbow from his back and examines it. He had had the foresight to reclaim his driftwood crossbow from Anton before burial, just in case, but he hoped that the machine parts still worked.

Poor lad... I wonder if he even got to fire the thing?

[RandomWombat]

The crossbow looks old, its wood worn and long overdue for maintenance. But testing out the mechanisms finds them still functional. Gweyir's weapon is very similar. They could use a tune up, and possibly some new string and oiling before it jams or something snaps.

"I'm not the best shot, but something just clicked," the druid comments, with a shrug. "Just one of those moments where your body moves faster than your mind."

Taking up the Durst sword again in place of the crossbow, Gweyir begins packing their things up. "In any case, we should get moving before more find this place. Blights use communication pheromones, any more in the area will probably be drawn here by the cloud that one released." She nods at the one in the bushes that she and Kellon took down.

The group could go two ways, from here; apart from wandering and exploring. To find Sokol's family in Barovia village, or to see Madame Eva across the river first.

[Prehysterical]

Placing his crossbow back onto his shell, Kellon recovers the wooden bowl and kicks what's left of the blight. "Have half a mind to turn you into a bowl, you briar brat." He takes the time to pour himself a whole bowl of water to drink before pouring a bowl for Spider. Kellon sets down the bowl and retrieves the Spear of Light from its duty as a lamppost, sighing as he looks around the campsite. "Such a nice little spot, too... But town sounds better in the daytime than it did last night. Let us see if Sokol the Undying here can face his greatest challenge yet."

As they begin making their way through the woods, Kellon seeks input from Gweyir. "It's said that the Dursts owned a windmill outside of town... Do you think that would be a good burial spot for the children? Somewhere with open air and far away different than that awful prison."

[RandomWombat]

Spider drinks gladly from the bowl, refreshing itself before the journey continues.

As they make their way out through the woods, retracing their steps, they can see the village of Barovia in the daylight now. The dark, black-blue shingles of the buildings paint it as a dreary picture against the rolling hills that somehow don't seem green enough to be called lush. To their right, they can see the road descend into the lowest part of the valley, where a stone bridge reaches across the river that nearly swept Gweyir away on their first steps into Barovia.

"Right... we didn't have time to bury them, after Anton's," Gweyir nods, looking out to the west. There is no sign of the windmill immediately across the river, so it most be somewhere else west of Barovia village.

As they travel, Sokol has extracted his undershirt, ratty and motheaten, and begun wrapping it around his face into a makeshift mask to hide his appearance in towns.

[Prehysterical]

Kellon catches Sokol's attempt to make a mask for himself and takes pity on the man... er, zombie. "Hold up." He stops and digs through his pack, pulling out fabric in whatever tortle design would call a shirt. "Might as well get you halfway presentable and the like for your visit," Kellon explains, handing Sokol the garment colored of deep sea blue.

While Sokol fiddles with it, Kellon confides in the others, "I didn't want to mention this right before bed last night, but I saw someone watching us from the cliff above. Some rider... although, t'was hard to tell, but the horse appeared more bone than anything else. I have to imagine that we will see them again, so keep your eyes peeled."

[RandomWombat]

"Ah, such nice fabric," Sokol takes the tortle wrappings, more like sashes and scarves than a shirt. More ideal for his situation, anyways. "I feel guilty dirtying it. Are you certain?" He waits for confirmation, then begins wrapping it around his head to make himself more presentable.

When the subject of the rider comes up, Sokol speaks up again, this time with some insights. "I know this one! Old Barovian ghost story." He finishes his wrappings and pulls his hood back on overtop of it, concealing his appearance rather well - apart from the smell, which they could perhaps blame on him being a tanner or something.

"Say he was an old soldier, tried to ride out from Barovia's borders. Lost in the Mist, he and his faithful steed perished. It is said they ride still, into death and beyond, seeking the exit to this dark land. Some say that to follow the bone rider will lead you to weal, others to woe. I've not encountered the fellow myself - until now! In my state, I confess I am less afeared and more curious if perhaps he is a kindred spirit."

[Prehysterical]

Kellon waves a hand over his shell in response to Sokol's concern. "This shell is all the cover I need, sailor. We tortles don't have the same sensitivities as you softskins do. 'Och, no, mine eyes doth spy a bared plastron in plain sight! Heavens!'" He holds the back of a claw to his forehead in mocking of some noble mannerisms he heard while at port.

The tortle finds himself nodding with Sokol's explanation. "Well, if he sought so desperately to leave these lands, he couldn't have been all that bad. When I seek to purge the Mist from this cursed land, he might have some valuable insight."

[RandomWombat]

"No clue what a plastron is, my friend," Sokol holds up his arms in a shrug.

As they talk, they arrive at the outskirts of the village once again. This time they're on the opposite end of the village, near the graveyard. A fence of wrought iron with a rusty gate encloses a rectangular plot of land behind s dilapidated church. Tightly packed gravestones shrouded by morning fog bear the names of souls long passed. All seems quiet and peaceful, in spite of the somber atmosphere that surrounds the place by its nature.

And as for the old church itself... Atop a slight rise stands a gray, sagging edifice of stone and wood. This church has obviously weathered the assaults of evil for centuries on end and is worn and weary. A bell tower rises toward the back with the solar symbol of the Morninglord perched above it in inglorious old green-stained copper. Flickering light shines through holes in the shingled roof.

[Prehysterical]

Kellon shakes his head sadly at the sight of the church. "It seems that the worship of Lathander in these lands is less a praise of their god and more a child hiding under a blanket, hoping that the monsters will go away." Wear and tear can sometimes be worn with pride, but the neglect is clear.

As they approach the settlement, Kellon instructs Spider, "Stay close to me, little one. If we got strange looks, I fear they will be less than kind to you."

[RandomWombat]

"Okay, Kellon! I'll follow super close," Spider crawls along behind as they approach the streets of the village. Past the church, Kellon can see the people moving to and fro, slowly and ponderously. As though wandering through a dream.

"My home was near the general store, down in the middle of the village."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

You may move Kellon's left token around on the town map to where you wish to explore.
Mary's Townhouse is E3 on the map.

[Prehysterical]

Kellon begins following the road from the church down to the town, going slowly through the first intersection to get the lay of the town. He might as well become familiar with this place, since they will likely be stuck here for a while.