Curse of Strahd Solo Run (IC)

[RandomWombat]

As their strange assortment make their way into the village, the Barovians turn and glare at them in a mixture of hostility and fear. Anyone on the street quickly takes another direction, or stops and stares until they pass. Down the street to their left, an astonishingly ugly old woman is hobbling down the street with a cart behind her, covered with cloth. She is going up to the doors of homes and knocking. Often she is ignored and goes on to the next one; when they answer, she seems to be peddling some kind of small sweets.

Ahead down the main street, the smell of cooking food and the sound of tavern music wafts on the breeze. A familiar scent and sound to any sailor who's taken shore leave.

[Prehysterical]

Rather than shying from scrutiny, Kellon stares right back at anyone who gives them the stinkeye. He's rather tired of being treated like a hungry shark. His mind directs them down the main street toward their objective, but his feet seem to almost move of their own accord toward the smell and music. There's no plan to stop at the tavern during their visit, but it's nice to have one speck of normalcy in this dreary settlement.

[RandomWombat]

A single shaft of familiarity thrusts illumination into the main square, its brightness looking like a solid pillar in this strange land. A tavern, tall and wide, once finely appointed but now as worn and tired as all else in this place. Above the gaping doorway, a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the 'Blood of the Vine' tavern. Someone has come along and scratched at the sign, an attempt at defacing it to read 'Blood on the Vine'. (E2)

The main square stretches out in front of the tavern, such as it is. Wider than the rest of the streets, children run to and fro, but are quickly pulled aside by parents and guided away from the outsiders. Further south across the square from the tavern is another larger building, this one clearly better cared for than the rest of this town. A sign over the door, swinging in the wind above the street, reads 'Bildrath's Mercantile'. (E1)

[Prehysterical]

Looking down the street past the mercantile, Kellon looks for Sokol's family home. "We should be getting close, yes? Do you want us to introduce ourselves first, or do you think you should be the first to speak?"

[RandomWombat]

Down they go past the mercantile, reaching the outside of an old run-down two story townhouse. The windows are boarded up from the inside. "Well that doesn't look too promising," Sokol looks upon the sad little house.

To make matters worse, from the cracked and boarded windows of the second story, quiet sobs flow down, seeping into the cold, grey streets. Sokol steps towards the house and tries the door, finding it unlocked - but as he pushes it inwards, it is jammed shut by a chair propped against the door from the inside.

[Prehysterical]

Solok himself had admitted that he knew not how long he had been down in the the cult's shrine, but there seemed something just plain wrong about what was going on...

Things are worrying enough that Kellon steps forward and puts his shoulder into the door. Someone might need their help.

Spoiler: OOC

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Strength check: (1d20+4)[7]

[RandomWombat]

The door doesn't budge to his shoulder, so Sokol joins in, worry plain in his dead eyes as he sets his shoulder against the door and pushes along with Kellon. People in the street see them and start to whisper and drift away, seeming to sense trouble. Even with the two of them they can't make the door budge.

"Alright, back off and go in together," Sokol says, pulling back and preparing to ram the door again as a team.

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Sokol failed his attempt as well. He will Help with the next try, giving Kellon Advantage.

[Prehysterical]

"One, two, three!" On Kellon's count, the pair put their combined weight into the door.

Spoiler: OOC

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Strength check: (1d20+4)[8]
(1d20+4)[8]

Wow... Seriously, those are some awful odds (or in this case, I suppose I should say evens).

[RandomWombat]

Even against their combined weight, the door holds. "Blasted chair! Why does the carpenter in this town have to make one good piece of furniture," Sokol curses.

"Here, let me try something else," Gweyir goes up to one of the windows and examines it. "Spider, can you help me jiggle this open?"

With Spider's tools, they fiddle with the window's lock and pop it open. The other side is boarded up with wooden planks, which seem to have been pulled up from the floor inside. But not completely, or even very thoroughly. Gweyir reaches her arm through one of the gaps and grows a magical vine down along her forearm, which lashes out. It wraps around the leg of the chair propped against the door and she yanks, pulling it free.

Sokol quickly enters, pushing the chair aside. The townhouse is missing pried up floorboards. A small wood burning stove, a double bed, some shelves and a chamberpot tucked underneath the stairs are its scarce furnishings. Steep wooden stairs lead up to a door into a short attic half-room.

[Prehysterical]

Kellon enters behind Sokol, taking in the sad state of the house. He looks to Solok and gives some minor encouragement. "Lead on, shipmate. It's your house. I'll be right behind you."

[RandomWombat]

Sokol nods, Spider and Gweyir walking in. Gweyir closes the door behind them, to shut out the peeping townsfolk.

The undead Barovian steps carefully up the wooden stairs, which prove steadier than they look. He opens the door. Inside is a child's room, as sparsely furnished as the rest of the house. A few small cracked windows are boarded up, and a cushioned cot is laid out on the floor. A nightstand beside it has a small drawer inside for clothing.

An older woman with a few spots of gray in her hair, dressed in a simple cloth dress and hood, is huddled upon the cot crying. She clutches a small doll with a malformed face and strange leer, wearing a sack cloth dress.

"Mary," Sokol rushes to her side, kneeling down on the floor. She seems to barely recognize anyone's presence in the room, but her eyes blink with recognition when she hears his voice. She remains staring ahead at the wall.

"Sokol... is that you?"

"It's me, Mary," he slips the hood back over her head, a green hairband adorning her hair. The sole piece of color decorating her outfit. "Mary, what happened?"

"Gertruda... Gertruda... I lost her..." the woman's voice is weak and filled with sorrow. "I lost you both.... are you here... to take me to the grave?"

[Prehysterical]

It seems in poor taste to intrude on a family, but they need answers. Kellon asks the woman in a low voice, "Mary, what do you mean you 'lost' Gertruda? Why did you bar the door shut?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Insight check on the doll: (1d20+5)[23]

[RandomWombat]

Mary sniffs back her tears, but still doesn't look up. "After... after my Sokol disappeared, I kept her safe. Kept her safe, always safe... kept the windows closed. Kept the house locked. Then..." a sob breaks up her explanation and she has to pause to collect herself again. "One morning, I just... I woke up and she was gone. I didn't know what to do, I looked and looked and then... I just wanted to be alone." She sets her face down against her knees in front of her.

Sokol gently rubs her back. "I'll find her, Mary. But you need to take care of yourself while I am gone." She doesn't say anything more, besides sobbing into her knees.

Spoiler: Doll

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The doll radiates a very cursed energy - not cursed in the sense of magic, but cursed in the sense that it carries a certain... disquiet. There is a tag on the doll that proudly declares it to be a Blinksy Toy. "Is No Fun, Is No Blinksy!"

[Prehysterical]

At a loss, Kellon taps on Sokol's shoulder with a claw. He offers one of their few remaining rations and his own waterskin, tilting his head to indicate Mary.

Kellon steps away a little and converses with Sokol. "What do you think? Do you think she ran away, or was she taken? Is there anywhere that she might go?"

[RandomWombat]

The man accepts them, and tries to get Mary to take them. Gently, he lifts her head from its place held against her knees and helps her take a sip from the waterskin, first. "Easy, love. Slowly."

He turns his head to regard Kellon out of the corner of his eye. "I don't know, friend. She were but a little girl last I knew her... Mary, how many years has it been?"

"... Ten? Eleven?" she speaks weakly, accepting some of the dry bits of rations and reluctantly tilting them from her hand into her mouth.

"Ten years... my girl has to be thirteen or fourteen, now. I do not know... if she was taken, or where she would go. We will need to ask." Sokol stands up into a hunched position under the low roof, leaving some of the rations on the night stand next to Mary and helping her take another drink of water. "Or maybe I should stay here with her... for now, at least. Get her cleaned up. Do you think that you could ask around for me?" he turns and looks at Kellon.

[Prehysterical]

Ten years... No wonder she was such a wreck. After giving a moment of thought, Kellon nods. "Aye, you should stay. I'll head down to the tavern and see if I can find out anything. Be the best place to start, far as I can tell." Another thought occurs to him and he hands Sokol his wedding ring and a signal whistle. "If there's any trouble, just sound this and I'll come running like a sailor on shore leave. Take as long as you need."

[RandomWombat]

"Alright... and Mary, how long has Gertruda been gone?" Sokol asks, as he accepts the whistle and the ring.

"Is it... three days now?" she ponders. Just around the time the Mists rolled in, and Kellon and Gweyir arrived at the Death House. No wonder she couldn't find the girl, if the Mists were cloistering the town for all that time.

Leaving Sokol to comfort his wife, Kellon rejoins the others below and they begin making their way back to the main square. There don't appear to have been any town guards called on them - if this place even has anything like a guard force, besides their hunters. The three of them arrive outside of the tavern, a wooden walkway with a few patched holes leading up to the raised ground it sits upon.

[Prehysterical]

Before they reach the tavern, Kellon briefs Gweyir on the situation. Too bad they were in town, otherwise Kellon would have tried examining the dirt road to see if he could pick up the girl's tracks.

As they approach the tavern, Kellon mentally braces himself for the suspicious looks he is sure to get within the walls. He makes for the doors.

[RandomWombat]

"Poor guy just can't catch a break," Gweyir whispers, looking back behind them at Sokol's old house as they make their way up the street. Spider seems mostly oblivious to the situation.

"Why is the smelly man's mate sad?"

As they arrive at the tavern door, Gweyir crouches down and explains to Spider, "Their child is missing. We're going to look for clues to find her, okay? Maybe you can wait up on the roof for us and keep watch, okay? Let us know if any trouble is coming, and come if we whistle for you."

"Okay!" Spider cheerfully chirps, crawling up the wall and onto the roof of the tavern, disappearing over the ridges.

"That should keep any drunks from swinging on sight," the druid says as she stands up and joins Kellon stepping in. Flames from a number of covered torches on sconces lights up the room, providing scant warmth to the souls within. Even this early in the day, there are a few here already. Some eating simple soup, and some already partaking of drink. A dour looking man behind the counter perpetually cleans a glass with a rag.

To the left of the door, a troupe of more colorfully dressed folk are gathered. Their garb looks similar to the woman that Kellon saw outside walking the Mists. An older man is seated in a rocking chair, and a larger man on a bench closer to the door. In the center of a small stage is a woman playing a bandura while the two men sing in harmonies, providing song to the tavern.

"The devil said, "Sit and have yourself a glass"

He said "I know you're angry right now, but the feelin' will pass

So keep your cup tipped up when you're feelin' down low

And when you finally forget your purpose,

You'll be stumblin' on down my side of the road"

And lastly, there is a Barovian man of uncommonly fair hair sitting at a corner table dressed in fine dark clothes. He has an aura of confidence and a straight back, strong and set, compared to the sullen and dour expressions of those around him. As he sips wine from a wooden mug, he spots those entering.

Even as a few of the hunters from that first night in Barovia whisper amongst themselves and the Barovians give the new visitors their typical death glare - apart from the bartender, who regards them with passive disinterest - the fair haired man raises his hand in greeting.

"Hail, outsiders. Come sit with me, if you please. The wine is on me."

[Prehysterical]

"Good call," Kellon compliments as Gweyir recommends that Spider take sanctuary on the roof.

In the same way that clouds obscure sunlight, a feeling of melancholy seems to pervade over any attempt at merriment in this place. The immediate hail raises suspicion in Kellon's mind, but it is a place to start, at least. Kellon moves to sit opposite of the upper crust Barovian, choosing to forgo the wine just this moment. "And what prompts such charity, may I ask," he asks the man bluntly. "Our welcome to this town has been as warm as a grave on winter's morn."

Spoiler: OOC

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Insight on the man and whether drinking the wine is a good idea: (1d20+5)[17]

[RandomWombat]

Gweyir takes a seat next to Kellon at the table, fixing the man with the same appraising look the tortle is giving him. To call the man's expression a smile would be a stretch, but it is not the glare that affixes them when the others catch sight of them. And even the apparent association with the man is enough to make the other Barovians look away and turn back to their own business.

"A need for able sword hands, and noble hearts," the man speaks, with clarity and purpose. "Both rare qualities here, and rarer still found together. So when I heard outsiders were in the village, I knew to wait here - the place where all folk one day stumble in." He nods towards the rest of the bar.

Spoiler: Insight

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There is no nervousness in the man's voice, no hint of hesitation or thought in his words that would hint at a second meaning.

"Able hands for what, exactly?"

The man lowers his voice now, leaning closer over his mug and the table between them. "I need to get my sister out of this village, and somewhere safe. A vampire, Strahd, has his eye on her. He has been possessed by some ill obsession, and has come to try and take her twice already now. He has declared his intent to take her as his bride, by his right as sovereign. But I will not allow it." The man's face is set firmly as he states so. But he deflates a little afterwards as he admits, "Yet I am but one man. And taking her from here is a gamble. The only thing keeping her safe now is that Strahd cannot enter our residence, and his monsters have not yet torn it down beyond recognition as such."

[Prehysterical]

Kellon blinks a little in confusion. He picks up the wine glass and gives it a swirl while he collects his thoughts. After taking a sip, Kellon admits, "We've heard about this Strahd fellow and I have no fondness for the man, but... The two of us here wound up in Barovia purely through a shipwreck. We know nothing about these lands and it seems like Strahd has spies everywhere. Where could we even take her? Hiding out in the woods is only going to work for so long before either he gets lucky or ours runs out." Throughout his talk, Kellon does not sound dismissive of the idea. He seems more open to suggestions than anything.

Spoiler: OOC

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Religion check on the limitations of vampires: (1d20+1)[21]

[RandomWombat]

Spoiler: Religion: Vampires

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It just so happens that stories of vampire pirates were not uncommon where Kellon was from. And through the years he has picked out myth from legend.

It is said that a brandished holy symbol or a clove of garlic can ward off a vampire. This is false - save in the hands of a cleric powerful enough to Turn the vampire by their god's grace.
It is said that a vampire cannot enter a private residence without being invited in. This is true.
It is said that vampires hold certain strange obsessions, and that one can distract a vampire by spilling rice, such that it must count each grain before it resumes its pursuit. This is both true and false. Vampires are given to deep obsessions, and this trick surely worked with the vampire that originated the tale. But there is no telling yet what obsessions may plague Strahd or distract him from a quarry.
It is said that to plunge a stake through a vampire's heart will kill it. This is true. Vampires will eventually regenerate from harm unless they are slain through a stake to the heart while they are incapacitated.
It is said that running water will dissolve a vampire into dust, and this is true - more the reason why vampire pirates was such an odd notion.
It is said that sunlight burns a vampire, and this is true. It is one of their deepest weaknesses.
And, of course, vampires must drink blood. Should they fail to drink blood, they will starve, tire, and eventually enter an incapacitated and desiccated state. Though feeding such a vampire any blood will stir it from its stasis.

Finally, there is more than one kind of vampire. The spawn, forced to obey a master vampire, are far weaker than their sires and subject to all the normal weaknesses. A master vampire is far more powerful, a creature of old and dark magic.

"I plan to take her to the town of Vallaki. It is said to be well guarded, and its church and burgomaster ward their walls against Strahd and his spawn using the bones of a saint." The man takes out a map and unfolds it on the table. It shows a road up around the cliffs, through some foothills, and to a town near a lake. It also has a windmill marked.

[Prehysterical]

"Really? Huh. That I would like to see." It seems like it would be a long trek... Kellon sits back and proposes, "Tell you what, man, perhaps by helping us with a little something, we might help you. We are looking for a young girl. Gertruda, daughter of Mary. Her father went missing about ten or eleven years ago. Mary said that she disappeared three nights ago, around the time that the Mist showed up. You know anything about her or see her?"

[RandomWombat]

Setting an elbow on the table, the fair haired man leans his chin upon his knuckle. A thoughtful consideration painted upon his face, he raps a single finger against the table with his other hand. "Mary. I believe I know of her. The less charitable call her Mad Mary, for her paranoid demeanor. I never knew that she had a daughter, however." Lowering his arm, he picks up the mug of wine again. He tilts it back and drains what little was left that he was nursing, then sets the mug on the table with an empty thud of wood on wood.

"Still, I believe I can help. The people here are cautious of those they do not know, but I am the burgomaster's son - our village leader, whatever you may call them. I am confident I can get you some answers," he holds a hand across the table, to Kellon and Gweyir. "Ismark Kolyanovich. Glad to meet you both this day."

"Gweyir, good to meet you," the druid introduces herself, shaking his hand.

[Prehysterical]

Kellon leans forward and gingerly clasps the man's hand in his claws to avoid pricking him. "Kellon. So, when and where do we meet to discuss your findings? There are a few matter of ours that need tending to, so we cannot wait here at the tavern."

[RandomWombat]

"If you have other business, then I will gather what information I can and meet you at the burgomaster's residence," Ismark motions towards the door, in the direction of the street the Mercantile and Mary's townhouse are on. "Follow the road south from the main square, and it is at the very end of that road. If I have not yet arrived and my sister refuses to let you inside, tell her that I sent you and slip this under the door." Taking a scrap of parchment from his bag, the man writes a short note and folds it, handing it to Kellon.

[Prehysterical]

Kellon accepts the note with a nod. "Once we find the girl, we'll help you move your sister. Any chance to put a leak in Strahd's boat is well worth, in my book." Kellon stands back up, though not before gulping down the rest of the wine.

[RandomWombat]

"Then I expect we will get along just fine," with a nod, Ismark stands from his seat as well. "Good luck. And take care on the roads, if you venture outside the village." After seeing them off, he goes to the bar to pay for the wine.

Gweyir turns around on the bench and stands. "Where we off to now, then?"

[Prehysterical]

Her question is answered by another question. 'While we're waiting for some answers, we can find some on our own. I think we should pay a visit to the soothsayer, see just how much she knows."