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stonegod's Expedition to Castle Ravenloft: Ch. I [IC]
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<blockquote data-quote="stonegod" data-source="post: 3203198" data-attributes="member: 36973"><p><em>16 Mol, Zaranthyr 998 YK</em></p><p style="text-align: center"><img src="http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/rl_gallery/100535.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>The morning dawn finds the band collected out front of the Weary Horse Inn, the ever present fog still clinging to the nameless village. Each rides a steed, whether the brilliant silvery blue celestial warhorse of Sir Khensu (with Jarrith riding alongside) or the finely bread surefoot donkey of Janis Stormhand. They all follow the faint path into the western mountains, looking for the distant Barovia.</p><p></p><p>The trail is treacherous initially, moving through cliff-edged wooded areas and snaking switchbacks. Near midday, the rut the party has been following starts showing signs of being a road, and within the hour bears the resemblance to something once cobbled in the distant past. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors about the muddy roadway, a pall of thick, cold misting spreading over the ground. Giant tree trunks stand guard on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mists. In every direction, the fog grows thicker and the forest seems more oppressive.</p><p></p><p>Eventually, the road reaches an apex of the mountains, and the party gets the first look at what must be the Barovian Valley spread out to the west. From the ever present mist, all that can be discerned are the thick woods, with a distant lake draining eventually into a fetid swamp to the southwest. But the most prominent feature is the towering castle standing above a 1000 ft drop near the enter of the valley. It appears of quiet ancient construction, but seems to be mostly whole from the distance.</p><p></p><p>The party winds its way down the road towards the valley as the sun starts to edge downwards. Suddenly, gray in the fog, high stone pillars loom up from the impenetrable wood on both sides of the road. Huge iron gates hang from the stonework, dew clinging to their rusting bars. Standing before the pillars are two stone statues of armed guardians with wicket polearms. Their carved heads lie among the weeds at their feet, neatly broken from the stone shoulders.</p><p></p><p>Stopped where they are, a good 100 ft. away, the party sees that the gates are closed.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="stonegod, post: 3203198, member: 36973"] [i]16 Mol, Zaranthyr 998 YK[/i] [center][img]http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/rl_gallery/100535.jpg[/img][/center] The morning dawn finds the band collected out front of the Weary Horse Inn, the ever present fog still clinging to the nameless village. Each rides a steed, whether the brilliant silvery blue celestial warhorse of Sir Khensu (with Jarrith riding alongside) or the finely bread surefoot donkey of Janis Stormhand. They all follow the faint path into the western mountains, looking for the distant Barovia. The trail is treacherous initially, moving through cliff-edged wooded areas and snaking switchbacks. Near midday, the rut the party has been following starts showing signs of being a road, and within the hour bears the resemblance to something once cobbled in the distant past. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors about the muddy roadway, a pall of thick, cold misting spreading over the ground. Giant tree trunks stand guard on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mists. In every direction, the fog grows thicker and the forest seems more oppressive. Eventually, the road reaches an apex of the mountains, and the party gets the first look at what must be the Barovian Valley spread out to the west. From the ever present mist, all that can be discerned are the thick woods, with a distant lake draining eventually into a fetid swamp to the southwest. But the most prominent feature is the towering castle standing above a 1000 ft drop near the enter of the valley. It appears of quiet ancient construction, but seems to be mostly whole from the distance. The party winds its way down the road towards the valley as the sun starts to edge downwards. Suddenly, gray in the fog, high stone pillars loom up from the impenetrable wood on both sides of the road. Huge iron gates hang from the stonework, dew clinging to their rusting bars. Standing before the pillars are two stone statues of armed guardians with wicket polearms. Their carved heads lie among the weeds at their feet, neatly broken from the stone shoulders. Stopped where they are, a good 100 ft. away, the party sees that the gates are closed. [/QUOTE]
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