Curse of Strahd Solo Run (IC)

[RandomWombat]

As the boy's face is wiped down, he half-heartedly tries to push Kellon's arm away. "Hey... hey. I'm not a kid, I can wipe my own face." Victor protests in embarrassment, wiping the wetness from his mouth with the back of his sleeve after Kellon finishes. The boy heaves in a shaky breath and lets it back out. "I'm fine. They didn't get me." Then he looks up at Kellon. "Wait, my mother?"

"You mean you didn't-" holding a hand to her chest, Gweyir fights back some tears welling up in her eyes. "You didn't see what happened?"

"I was running from those cultists," the baronet answers, letting his mouth gawp open.

"Victor, she..." the druid pauses and hesitates. "She was caught up in one of your father's spells. She-"

"No," he cuts her off. "No, you're lying."

Gweyir shakes her head. "I'm not. I'm not, Victor."

"And- my father? What become of him?" the boy demands, looking between the two of them with panicked eyes. For all that he and the old man had their quarrels, there is concern and fear in those eyes.

[Prehysterical]

Victor's ignorance of the events is understandable, but it still renders Kellon speechless when the reality sinks in for the boy. His head hangs for a moment before looking up to confront Victor's pleading denial. He pulls out the knife that the fortuneteller had left in the door at the cursed house. Kellon had meant to give it back, but he had forgotten due to the million other things on his mind.

Grabbing Victor's hand, Kellon uses his greater strength to place the handle of the knife in the boy's hand. Once Victor has been armed, Kellon looks him in the eye and confesses. "He's dead, lad. I'm the one who killed him. There was no other choice, not if more death was to be prevented. Your mother tried to talk him down and he smote her for it. If it's any consolation... he wasn't in his right mind when it happened. Something had taken hold of him... something evil."

Releasing Victor's arm, Kellon makes no further move. "As a priest of Poseidon, I know well the importance of family and blood price. If you seek vengeance upon me for the death of your father, I will respect that." Indeed, the tortle keeps his arms at his side and makes no move to defend himself. His gaze locks with Victor's, regretful but steadfast.

[RandomWombat]

The dagger rests in Victor's hands as he processes the tale in his head. There are no tears in his eyes. Either too 'manly' to cry in front of them, or he's run out of tears to shed. His hands clench around the handle and blade as he falls to his knees, bleeding a little from the edges poking into his skin.

Grabbing the handle with both hands, he lets out a primal scream and starts stabbing the dagger into the ground, sending grass and clumps of dirt flying - and at one point nearly stabbing himself in the knee by accident. He flails like an infuriated animal, releasing a swollen store of pent-up rage and helplessness into the poor lawn.

When Victor tires too much to keep going and his voice grows hoarse, he tosses the dagger away where it impacts a rock, and lowers his head to the grass with his hands set upon the back of his skull. The flap of his carrying bag is nudged open and the toymaker backs away in surprise, as a skeletal cat crawls out. The tiny undead walks around the boy as if it were a perfectly normal cat and nudges its bony skull against his hair and hands. At last he sits himself back up, hair frazzled and face sunken. He reaches down and pats the skeleton, then ushers it back into the bag. It cooperates about as well as a cat would, and he eventually sighs and stands up.

"My father," he says, in a strained voice, "Died a long time ago." Swallowing, he starts trying to smooth his hair back down. "You owe me nothing. And thank you, Gadof." Victor adds, to the toymaker, who nods now that the surprise has waned away. "I cannot stay here. Those masked freaks will come back for me again. And people will run me out of town anyways when they learn about my research." Again he looks down at the affectionate skeletal cat. "I will go... I don't know. Somewhere else."

[Prehysterical]

Kellon is all too familiar with the pain of losing both parents. Even though he had known it was coming, Kellon had still waged at the unfairness of having to say goodbye to them so soon. Unable to hide his disgust for the undead animal, Kellon walks over to collect the knife from where Victor had thrown it.

Despite the boy's explosion of emotion, Victor was handling this surprisingly well. Even discounting the masked men and women, the town would no doubt have an unfavorable opinion of Victor solely for being the former Baron's son. Kellon clacks his beak, clearly having an internal debate about something as he leans on his trident and scratches at a neck fold with a claw. With a sigh, he finally speaks.

"How would you like to have a part in putting that old bastard Strahd out of his self-inflicted misery? Your father died trying to usurp his tyranny and your mother was a casualty... but you are not the only one to lose family to the vampire. Gweyir's brother was snatched by Strahd from our world, just as we were. Sokol's daughter is currently being groomed as a future bride by the shameless, gaslighting bloodsucker. Father Donavich's only son was turned into a vampire and now the man seeks to undo that undeath. You can do as you wish, but all of this misery traces itself back to our resident Darklord in his castle. If you want to put a stop to the madness, then help us. There are things that can be done, that must be done, outside of these walls. Find a way to make yourself useful. It will... help you as you grieve."

[RandomWombat]

Looking down at the undead pet, Victor appears to be contemplating Kellon's words. "I wish I could just leave this cursed land," he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists, but eventually releases a puff of air. "So be it. It is not as if I have many options." Turning his eyes upward to meet Kellon's, he pats the bag at his side. "I have never seen a battlefield, but. I taught myself magic using this tome I lifted from my father's contraband chest," he takes out a black book with a notebook clipped to the front, and runs a thumb over the surface. "There are some spells for battle. And some other things. Like warding sigils, and removing curses."

"First thing's first, the cat needs to get back in the bag," voice showing that Gweyir shares Kellon's distaste for the skeletal abomination, she frowns down at it. Druidic doctrine would normally demand such a thing be destroyed, but Gweyir is clearly holding herself back from acting rashly. "If anyone sees that, mobs and pitchforks will be running you out of town before we're ready to go."

"If I may," the rotund toymaker taps Kellon on the shoulder, and rubs his hands over his own large belly. "You are going to the devil's castle?"

"Not immediately, but that is the eventual goal," Gweyir cuts in. Gadov nods and licks his lips.

"I know it may seem like such a small thing, but. My inspiration was the great toymaker, Fritz von Weerg, who was the castle's toymaker before Barovia was ah," he waves his hand at the sky, now once again closing in with dreary clouds and dim light. "Genius inventor. I would love to study his greatest masterpiece, the clockwork man that be built for the royal family. If you should find such a thing..." the man nervously rubs the back of his hand and chuckles. "I admit, business is not good, ah, I cannot offer much reward. However, I could make you any toy you wish! Or perhaps... my new companion could become yours'?" A hand points up at the monkey perched on his shoulder, which seems remarkably calm and trained in spite of everything happening around it. The creature makes a chirping sound when addressed. "He was a gift from the traveling bard, Rictavio. I am still ah... not sure why. But he has been great company." The toymaker smiles when the monkey reaches out and grips his finger, shaking it.

During the toymaker's request, Victor manages to herd his pet back into the back and restore it to his shoulder. "... I am ready to go anytime. I have everything I want to take." Taking out a brass key, he hands it to Kellon. "Feel free to raid my former home for anything of value. The servants will probably pawn the rest..."

[Prehysterical]

The toymaker's request comes as a surprise, but Kellon shakes his head slightly. "No disrespect to you, sir, but Strahd's castle is no place for seeking lost treasures. Not while the wretch still stands on his own two feet! If I should happen across it, I will let you know, but I make no promises for such a thing."

Kellon eyes the monkey critically. He seems like a nice enough little chap, but having a monkey around could bring bad luck... or so the old sailor superstition went. "Keep your little friend, toymaker. Good company is hard to come by. Consider it my apology for ruining any of the business you might have made today."

After accepting the bronze key, Kellon points out to Gweyir, "Speaking of cleaning up... If memory serves, there is a lecher in the manor who is in sore need of a keelhauling! Our lady friend already has one stalker after her. Hard enough for her to sleep at night as it is." He asks Victor, "How did Izek come into the employ of your father? Is he from here, or another outlander like us?"

[RandomWombat]

"Oh, yes! Only meaning, if you should happen to come upon it... I would be most grateful," the pudgy toymaker bows his head and steps back. "Many apologies if I have overstepped, Vampire Killer. I will leave you then... and," the man offers Victor a friendly nod. "Good luck."

As Gadof shuffles away back into his store, Victor giving him a half-hearted effort of a wave. "Izek..." the boy looks down and his lips tighten into a thin frown. "He was born here in Vallaki, a few years older than me. When he was young, his parents took him and his little sister fishing at the lake." His tone betrays that the story is not a happy one.

Groaning, Gweyir guesses, "Did the 'beast' get them?" But Victor nods.

"A beast got them. They were killed by a dire wolf. His parents and his sister, all of them. Only Izek survived, crawled away with one arm while the animal fed on their corpses." The bloody image only makes Gweyir grimace, the brutality of nature is well known to a druid. "He lived at the orphanage for a while. The other children there bullied him for his one arm, and the village children bullied all the orphans for... well, for being orphans."

"Did you bully him too?" Gweyir asks. Her tone isn't accusatory, but more concerned - for Victor becoming a target of the man now that his father's protection is gone. Thankfully, Victor shakes his head again.

"I preferred the company of animals. Cats... had a pet rat for a while," he looks at the wall of the building nostalgically, then frowns again. "Till one of the cats ate it. I... probably should have seen it coming." Running a hand through his hair, Victor shakes off the thoughts of his own past. "Anyways. Some children who had been bullying him went missing. The guard found him dragging one out into the woods to leave to the wolves. Said it was an accident, they had been fighting. When the guard brought him to my father," Victor pauses and adds, "Bear in mind he was not a decade old, and the bullies were older... but he was always large boy. My father pardoned his actions and took him in, forbade the other boys from provoking him any more, forbade Izek from fighting. He was raised with me, but we were never close. I would not call him a brother."

"And the baron made this man his guard captain?" the druid asks, dumbfounded. "Not to mention, where did the new monster arm come from?"

"It's not like there were more incidents," the young man shrugs. "Was chalked up to tragic stupid kids getting in a fight and taking it too far. And the arm," again, Victor lets his eyes wander and then shrugs. "I'm not sure, really. He says he woke up with it one morning. And as far as I know, it is true."

[Prehysterical]

For just a moment, Kellon feels a bit of pity for the boy that would become the monster. When he remembers how Izek tried to kidnap Ireena against her wishes, however, the moment passes.

"One doesn't just wake up with a new arm. There is some foul magic afoot, perhaps even a pact of some sort. We had best make our way to the manor. Who knows what Izek could be up to at this very moment..." Kellon begins to do just that, his claws clacking against the wet stone as he leads them to the manor house.

[RandomWombat]

"There are stranger things in Barovia than waking up with a magic arm..." Though there is nothing further he wants from home, Victor follows Kellon and Gweyir to the old manor all the same. He may not feel comfortable traveling the streets alone right now, and all the wiser of him.

When Kellon comes stomping inside, two guard dogs stand up and start snarling at him, but Victor quickly steps forward and they lick their mouths, making apologetic noises as he scratches their chins and ears. "It's okay. It's alright, go back to sleep." One of them sniffs and growls at the bag with the undead cat inside, but Victor whaps is nose and it backs away, lying back down. The other goes over and joins it.

Together, the trio climb the stairs to the second floor. Kellon rounds the corner, and Gweyir whispers to him, "This hallway is the room full of dolls, and the closet where the prisoners are chained up."

"The doll room is Izek's," Victor confirms, if indeed there remained any doubt. "And my father's study is across the hall from it."

There is light from beneath the door if Izek's room, and Kellon can hear the muffled sound of sobbing from inside. Gweyir draws her sword and looks at Kellon, nodding. She can't help but add a little verbal nudge with, "Your lead, acting captain."

[Prehysterical]

Even if Victor speaks the truth, that doesn't excuse strange happenings...

Kellon is thankful for bringing Victor along if for no other reason than to pacify the dogs. That would have made him feel guilty... somehow more guilty than the thought of hunting down Izek.

As they near the door to Izek's room, Kellon finds himself grateful for Gweyir's reminder about the prisoners. In all the catastrophe, he had almost forgotten! Her snarky remark, however, earns a glare from the tortle. With trident ready in hand, Kellon has an internal debate on how best to handle this. Izek is dangerous, so jumping him before he can cause more damage seems reasonable, but it makes Kellon's shell itch to think of stabbing someone in the back.

In the end, Kellon's sense of fair play wins out. He speaks through the door.

"Am I hearing the captain of the guard right now? Fled to his room, crying because his kidnapping attempt was foiled? You do know that Strahd wants her too, right?"

[RandomWombat]

Floorboards creaking beneath Kellon's weight preclude much stealth to begin with... and so as they approach, the sobs grow quieter and they can hear the counterpart squeaking of movement upon an old and worn mattress. Gweyir keeps he sword at the ready, and Victor stands at the end of the hall rubbing his wrists.

A growling breath answers Kellon's provocation through the door, and heavy boots thud against the wooden floor. The intimidation of the sound is, perhaps, dimmed knowing that the owner of those heavy boots was just crying to himself in bed. "He will not have her," Izek's voice comes through the door with only the slightest hint of a waver. It is delivered in the same dull, expressionless monotone as the rest of his speech. "I have seen her... I have seen her. She is the face from my dreams. Fate has bound us, I can see it," the man raves, and Kellon can hear him stand and begin pacing back and forth in the room. From the rumbling of metal on wood, he is dragging his axe along the floor behind him.

"He sounds delusional," Gweyir whispers to the tortle. "I believe he's seen her in his dreams, though... the dolls all over his room, they're too perfect a likeness. How does he know what she looks like, when she was kept so sheltered in that village?" The druid looks thoughtful. "Could somebody have been manipulating his dreams with magic? I hear hags can do that."

[Prehysterical]

Gweyir has a point... or at least, he has to trust her judgment of what's on the other side of that door. At the mention of hags, a new possibility emerges.

Kellon's voice is hard as he asks through the door, "Did you take anyone to the Bonegrinder coven, Izek?"

[RandomWombat]

"Who?" the voice on the other side of the door snaps, the large man's patience sounding thin even as his anger rings flat. Like a piss-poor actor trying to sound angry on stage.

"The hags, the women at the mill, Izek, did you have any dealings with them?" Gweyir clarifies.

"Ah, the ones you slew," some recognition slips back into the voice. "No. I have had no dealings with hags or witches." The pacing comes to a stop on the other side of the door. "You hunt vampires, right? We don't need to be enemies... I just want to talk to her. That's all. I want to talk to her. And I'll kill the devil if he's laid his hands on her..."

[Prehysterical]

So, Izek had no connection to the hags at all... It shouldn't be so surprising. There seems evil enough in this land that they need not overlap.

There is a slight trace of pity in the firmness of Kellon's response. "Like how you tried to 'talk' to her by abducting her during the cultists' uprising, regardless of how she felt? You had ample opportunity to share your feelings, but it seems that you prize her more as a doll than a woman. On top of that, you seem to delight in pain and nearly Ireena's friend when she tried to rescue her. You may not be a vampire, but you have certainly acted like a monster.

Still, I have seen a sailor or two whose heart drove him to folly. If you truly mean no harm, then put the axe down and open the door. I won't kill an unarmed man."

Spoiler: Persuasion

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Not expecting this work, but here we go anyway: (1d20+4)[14]

[RandomWombat]

"I was protecting her," Izek rebuffs the accusation, no hint of doubt in his voice. "Do you think you have the right to judge me?" Though his words speak to offense, his tone is uncaring. The more Kellon listens to this man talk, the more it sounds like something is missing in him. He is, perhaps, as much a doll as the effigies that sit in his room.

The door is thrown open, Izek's imposing figure looming on the other side. The axe is lying on the floor beside him, but his fur cloak is flung aside, the fiendish arm displayed openly with flames licking from the palm. "I do not need an axe to kill you," he says, reaching out and unleashing a gust of flame that washes out into the hall. The old, dry wood of the building catches around Kellon and Gweyir.

Covering herself quickly with her cloak, Gweyir steps back and pats out the flames on the heavy fabric. As she moves, she brushes Kellon's shell with a hand and healing magic washes into his burns. "He's going to burn the place down like this," she coughs, as smoke starts to crackle into the hot air.

"The books!" Victor exclaims.

"I could put it out, but it's not gonna be pretty either," Gweyir readies her sword. "And we need to stop him first."

Spoiler: Combat Log

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Izek throws open the door, triggering combat. Kellon's persuasion was unable to talk him down, but caused him to fight unarmed out of spite.
Izek acts first, casting Burning Hands into the hall. Kellon takes 12 fire damage, and Gweyir takes 6 with a successful Dex save. The hallway is on fire. Entering or ending turn in the fire deals 5 fire damage.

Gweyir casts Cure Wounds, healing Kellon for 11, and backs up out of the hallway.

Kellon is up!

Spoiler: Initiative

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Izek Strazni - 17

Gweyir - 16
Kellon - 9
Victor - 9