stonegod's Expedition to Castle Ravenloft: Ch. I [IC]

[stonegod]

"Please. We wish to help, but our answers have been few and far between."

[Take 10 on Diplomacy=16 succeeds]

Ismark looks at the intent Jarrith, then sighs and pushes the glass aside. "Excuse my manners. It has been... difficult of late."

"My father was Kolyan Indirovich, burgomaster of Barovia. But he is dead, dead these past ten days or more that I have been stuck in this acursed inn. Locked in the mansion, with only my sister to watch him, to guard him from these zombies."

He takes the note again, this time reading it in depth. His face darkens. "Be its writer false, the note is not untrue. The people speak of dark acts and baleful glares of their neighbors. There had always been rumors, but these are more than ill whispers now. Who they are, what they are up to? I cannot say. That is all I know of these whispers of the dark."

Ismark pushes letter away, and once again takes the fruit of the glass. "But they are not the cause of the walking dead. That disease has a cause more tragic."

He stops and stares into the glass, lost in thought.

 

[DEFCON 1]

"But they are not the cause of the walking dead. That disease has a cause more tragic."

Jarrith looks at him with expectant eyes, as it appears this young man might have some further answers.

"Indeed? Do you know of the cause? Although Karrnath as a province has been known to raise and control the dead as a symbol of it's strike against the grey emptiness of Dolurrh... there is usually someone at the head of the legion brought forth. This curse upon your people seems to have no hand, but rather acts as a random plague." His eyes wide with the desire for answers, he leans in towards Ismark. "Or do you know of a hand controlling these strings after all?"

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Maraat starts at the presence of all the wounded and despairing, his heart going out to the children. He takes care to nod at them, giving them a faint smile of encouragement. Cautiously, he follows Jarrith to see the son of the Burgomeister, hoping his own skills could coax a tale out of the distraught young man, a tale of what happened with this town.

"Ismark?" Maraat asks the young, sorrowful noble. "People call me Marot. Would you not tell me the tale of Barovia? We would seek to help you, as my friend said, but we would know how such strange horrors came to be, if you would but let us know."

OOC: Diplomacy +12

 

[stonegod]

The noble looks at the gathered party, seemlying coming out of his thoughts. He is a bit confused a moment. "Karrnath? I do not know of this place you speak. We have tales of a great Conquerer, Karrn the Mighty, but a land of his own? No."

He shakes his head, dismissing the subject. "No, the undead have a different source. Barovia... it is a cursed place. There are dark powers here, best left unspoken of." He looks to the north a moment, then back at the others. "Our priest, Danovich, warded the town and its church, but his vigil has ceased. Near a month ago, his only son Doru was slain by brigands on Old Svalich Road. It was brutal what they did to that poor boy. Danovich... he broke at the sight. I believe he went mad from grief. Ever since, the Church has been boarded up, and Danovich vanished." He takes another drink. "But, it was not longer after this that the zombies began to walk." He gestures with the glass to the door. "Even with that strong willed woman out front, if nothing else is done, we'll all be dead in a matter of days."

Ismark coughs, a violent paroxysm, and wipes what appears to be blood on his coat. After clearing his throat, he continues, staring at the exit where Ashlyn holds her vigil. "Her two 'Lightbringer' brethren, supposed undead hunters, went to the church two days ago. We have heard nothing since. I told them to see Madam Eva first---the woman is wiser than any of us. Most likely they too walk the walk of the damned. They'll likely be the ones to finally fell that holy warrior, their failed hands at her throat." He chuckles grimly at his dark humor.

He waves his free hand again. "That is all I know of these things. Me? I'm going to sit here and drink. Go speak to Madam Eva if you want help---she's west of town. But I can do nothing. A burgomaster soon without a village, that is what I am." He raises his glass in a mock toast. "To Ismark the Lesser, failed son!" He downs the glass and then spits part of it on the floor with a dark look northward.

"If you can help, do. I can do nothing."

 

[GwydapLlew]

He waves his free hand again. "That is all I know of these things. Me? I'm going to sit here and drink. Go speak to Madam Eva if you want help---she's west of town. But I can do nothing. A burgomaster soon without a village, that is what I am." He raises his glass in a mock toast. "To Ismark the Lesser, failed son!" He downs the glass and then spits part of it on the floor with a dark look northward.

"If you can help, do. I can do nothing."

Sir Khensu will enter at this point, having extinguished Selase's funeral pyre. He stands quietly in the entryway, listening to Ismark's tale of woe in silence. The Flame brought us here for a reason. We must show these people the true way.

"Ismark the Lesser? I think not. You are the leader of these people - you have survived and helped these people survive. That is a mightier deed than the Lightbringers have provided!"

The shifter enters into the main room, steeling himself from the reactions of those around him. These were peasants of the most provincial sort, if their knowledge of Khorvaire history is so poor.

"Even in the depths of what you see as failure, you are planting the seeds for your people's victory. You say this Madame Eva is the one we should speak with; I say we shall, and we shall aid you and your village in this time of need!

The shifter points, first to Jarrith and then to Maraat and then to himself. "We are servants of the Silver Flame, and we are dedicated to cleansing Khorvaire of evil. Our church teaches us, however, that the most deadly shadow is the one that lurks closest to our hearts. Until you truly believe that you are worthy of living, how can you expect to emerge victorious?"

The paladin was no smooth speaker; he had spent years learning to speak in the cultured tongue of the courts of Flamekeep. Nonethless, he possessed an aura of confidence, a feeling of purity that he could only hope would encourage these beknighted souls to find the true way to peace.

 

[stonegod]

A whispering hush breaks out as the shifter paladin enters. The children under the table *eep* and scatter away, and several of the awake adults cast worried glances. Some of them make unusual warding gestures---a wide 'V' shape of the thumb and index finger, clutched over the heart. Obviously some sort of protection against the evil eye. Only the dark men playing cards do not react. It is immediately obvious that none of these folk have seen a shifter before. It is possible they have not even heard of them.

Ismark looks up at the paladin. His eyes are weary, but not bleary from the drink. But his words do not carry confidence. "The Lightbringers also spoke of faith and hope, of Sovereigns of Honor and Warmth. But aside from the one who wards us, their promises were hollow. Prey do not speak of such things. There has been enough talk." He sighs. "It is late, and I am sure you are weary. There are no rooms to spare, but Arik can find you places in the common room. You will have to provide your own entertainment, I'm afraid." Again, the grim chuckle.

 

[James Heard]

Janis says nothing, her face scrunching up instead, wincing visibly at "Khensu-The-Mighty-Drama-Queen."

"So I take it that you're no longer in favor of burning down the remains of the village and retreating back to the caravan?"

She shook off any rebuttal or commentary, instead turning to anyone who might seem to know anything about such matters and asking about a room.

"No matter, I need to rest if I'm to protect you from your next rounds of valor and heroism. A room, as quiet as possible...Preferably one with rats." She motioned to the snake at her throat vaguely. "He doesn't truly need to eat, but when he's well fed it keeps him from biting chambermaids and children," she explained somewhat loftily.

As she went to whatever place she was assigned, she paused, " If the priest protected you then perhaps we should stop there first, to see if he kept any records of how and to see if there are lingering magics there which might be enlisted to keep the dead at bay. Even if the two hunters have indeed fallen victim to something inside the church, they were only two and two are easily... divided to their detriment by greater numbers. Whatever the power that holds sway here, if we're not to warn the wider world of its menace then we're bound to succeed else doom a far greater number of people than merely ourselves."

The matter is out of my hands. Now, if only my companions can live up to their words and imagined glories...

 

[DEFCON 1]

"So I take it that you're no longer in favor of burning down the remains of the village and retreating back to the caravan?"

"No matter, I need to rest if I'm to protect you from your next rounds of valor and heroism. A room, as quiet as possible...Preferably one with rats."

Jarrith rolls his eyes at Janis' incessant braying and passive-aggressive insults hurled at pretty much everybody. "Have you not listened to a THING anyone has said, Janis? Sir Khensu told you quite specifically outside that if YOU want to go back to the caravan and let them know what is going on, because you do not deign these people worthy of your time... no one is stopping you."

Jarrith then takes a step towards her, getting visably angrier at her for all of her complaints and whining about the situation but too afraid to actually make a decision on her own. "And as far as rooms are concerned... Ismark said NOT TWO SECONDS ago, and I quote... There are no rooms to spare, but Arik can find you places in the common room. How about for one BLASTED time you either think about other people for once... OR ELSE stand up for yourself AND your 'beliefs' and actually GO DO SOMETHING ON YOUR OWN THAT YOU BELIEVE IN, RATHER THAN FOLLOWING US SUPPOSED FOOLS ALL THE TIME WHILE WE ACTUALLY TAKE ACTION... AND ADD NOTHING TO THE SITUATION BUT COMPLAIN ABOUT OUR CHOICES?!?"

Any goodwill Jarrith probably had generated with these villagers he's sure has been washed away by his outburst... but he is just sick and tired of Janis' attitude. "If you do not like us and our methods... and the only reason you were here was because you wanted to hang around with Selase... well, you've lucked out! You've been cut from your contract! You are free to leave. But if you choose not to, then at least do us all the courtesy of shutting the blazes up."

And before he can receive a lecture from Sir Khensu about his blow up, Jarrith storms out of the inn back outside to stand guard with Lady Ashlyn... ignoring all looks and responses. He hears nothing of what ayone says inside the inn.

 

[James Heard]

Janis nods coolly.

"I still require someplace to sleep, else I'll not be soon able to save him from indignant anger, much less the country that surrounds you that you have no knowledge of. While some of my companions have been bouncing around the world with no worries, others of us have been making focussed studies of the world around us and learning to control our tempers else we unleash maelstroms of unprecedented destruction..." Janis winces uncomfortably, but continues.

"My homeland is gone, erased by such energies and made into a blighted wasteland. If I seem to not care for you all as individuals, I trust you all realize it is only because I feel each person's connection with the land instead. I travel with these...heroes, not because I'm simply stumbling, but because they follow portents however unpleasant they might sometimes be personally. I will rescue your land or die in the attempt. I cannot, will not, promise more to you as individuals. If that's not particularly comforting, I make no apologies. My temperament was forged in Cyre, and if there are no smiles and explicit sympathies left then...it is as it has been made to be."

She turns to face the rest of her party, more or less.

"We're all victims of fate in this world, but I will not be challenged into condemning myself to death simply because those unfriendly few I travel with support it. If you all decide to insist upon myself traveling alone back to the caravan, in the conditions we arrived in; I fail to see how you meet any vows of allegiance to the entity of the Flame you keep company with. While everyone is busy condemning my lack of earnestness, I often wonder by which vein of conscience they use to examine their own. I will never claim to be a pleasant person, but the world is not a pleasant place either. If all you warriors of such explicit virtue have no patience with that which is known to you, and which has supported you despite any apparent reason other than what could only be known as the "goodness of her heart" except your denial of the existence of such; how then can you be good at all? Because truly, sometimes you appear to be merely daggers directed at your "enemies" by your credulity, without any real understanding of what makes up an enemy."

"I think it's time you decide who your enemies are, and why. If simple lack of appeal follows, then maybe your goodness is too shallow to withstand a closer scrutiny, Janis concludes.

"A place to rest now? I've come up with some new ideas that I need to transcribe to my journals, and defending my honor when the knights of presence refuse to is as tiring as braving the Dark. You can plot on how you shall aim your holy daggers at my breast later."

OOC: Janis spends an Action Point to her Diplomacy (+3) skill. She's tired of being misunderstood, and doesn't need any stray superstitious villagers trying to nick her in her sleep.

 

[drothgery]

Daellin sighed. He never liked agreeing with an ir'Sandal, and save for her skill with wizardry Janis had much in common with her atecedants, both in political views and in her temper. But she did have that wizardry, and on the morrow they would most certainly need it. And the crusade to which he'd given his bow was Cyre's, not, by any stretch of the imagination, the Silver Flame's.

"I assure you, no one will disturb your rest." Daellin said.

Of course, there was another matter that was nearly as disturbing as agreeing with Janis. If that man was speaking the truth as he knew it, he knew nothing of the rise and fall of Galifar, and the nations of Khorvaire as they were today. Out of touch for a long time, even by elven standards.