stonegod's Expedition to Castle Ravenloft: Ch. III [IC] (Completed)


Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
stonegod's Expedition to Castle Ravenloft: Chapter III

IC: Ch. I, Ch. II, Ch. III | OOC: Ch. I, Ch. II, Ch. III | RG

Current cast:
Past cast:
  • Selase Kolandra (Doomhawk): Human Vol adherent. Killed by the zombies of Barovia, risen by their plague, and put down by her companions.
  • Bergeron "Foebender" d'Jorasco (Kralin Thornberry): Halfling Jorasco scholar. Slain by the foul death magic of a mad Barovian priest.
  • Daellin ir'Ayellan (drogthery): Elven Cyran undead hunter. Killed by the mad spirit of the monastery.
  • Perriwimple (Kafkonia): Human brute. Killed by the mad spirit of the monastery.
  • Janis Stormhand (ir'Sandal) (James Heard) : Human Cyran ex-pat aristocrat. Returned to town after wounds.

Chapter III: The Curse

The Castle, Barovia, Karrnath
1 Sul, Olarune, 998 YK

It was a day like all others in Barovia: Damp, fog-enshrouded, and ominous. It was the day those that had been struggling under the mysterious Curse of Barovia were to enter the heart of the curse, the dread Castle Ravenloft. What waited inside, in the dark depths and dizzying heights? Soon, they would know.
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Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
Nine strong, the group trotted purposefully up the Barovian road towards the Castle. The fog was overly oppressive today, providing little visibility. The sounds of the plaintive village shuffling on its way occasionally made it through the distance, ghostly echos of life.

So it was over the river, through the ruined farmhouses, and toward the gallows at the fork. Only here did the fog let up some. And it was fortunate that it did for otherwise the group may have ridden over the single man standing there. His colorful garb left no doubt he was Visanti. When he could clearly see the man, the thick tone of the Barovian speech broke the silence.

Madam Eva wish speak to you. Time for last question, says she.


First Post
Ashlyn nods in response, however she doesn't simply take the visanti's word for it, she looks at him for a moment, assessing him as he stands there.

[Sense motive: 1d20+10]
[Detect undead (just to be sure ;) )]

Once a little surer of the man's motives, Ashlyn responds "If madam Eva wishes to speak to us, then of course we will come. Lead on."


First Post
"How can we go see Madam Eva without Janis." quips Marot.

"They went together like fire and ice."

Looking around to see if anyone found it amusing, he shrugs.

"Fine. Fine. Lets go"


"Whereas you are lukewarm water, eh Marot?" grins Jarrith. He ushers his horse forward, and looks down at the Visanti. "Madam Eva been keeping an eye on all the crap we've been through thus far here? Don't take this personally... but I do not intend to ever come back to your lands once our job here is through."

Sir Khensu sighs, shakes his head, and says nothing as they continue their ride to the Visanti camp. He does, however, catch the eyes of the rest of the travelling party... Tessa, Avron, Ravika, Ashlyn and Ladreth, and smiles warmly at each and every one of them. A very good group of travelling companions are they.


First Post
Avron laughs heartily, and maybe a little crazed at Marot's joke. "Ice....Fire....great!"

As Jarrith speaks, Avron nods though sadly. "If I survive my curse, I am not coming home again either. Home is where the heart is. It doesn't beat anymore and more often than it's connected to arms of moldering flesh and decay that wish to choke the air from your lungs so you can join them in undeath."


First Post
Tessa had a wry smile for Khensu's silent encouragement, but most of her attention was on the Vistani. She had not been with the group for their earlier visit to the camp, and none of the rumors she had heard of these folk were encouraging... She let her horse followed the others, but said not a word- one hand held the reins of the steed, but the other was clenched tightly around a Symbol of the Sovereign Host. For the time being she kept the Icon concealed, juts in case...


Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
[The Vistanti is living. It seems truthful.]

The Visanti man leads the group to the camp without words. It is as it was weeks ago: A colorful riot of wagons and dark faces. Dismounting, Jarrith strides without care towards the large tent separated from the others. He barely registers, though Ashlyn surely does, that the Visanti guard are absent.

The tent is a sight familiar to some, but to the others it is a shock. It is quite roomy, though the various collections of beads, feathers, and other arcane leavings make it feel more cramped than its apparent size. What little furniture there is is lavishly colored, as gaudy as the rest of the camp. Its only occupant dwarfs the table she sits behind, seeming larger and older than possible. Her dark eyes cast a patient look at the group as they settle themselves, her voice dry an brittle.

It is time, time for the last question. You must ask it now, for soon it cannot be answered.

On the table are her cards, her hands already covering one that cannot be seen.
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First Post
Ashlyn notes the absence of the guards on the tent and looks around the camp cautiously before she enters.

Once inside the tent, Ashlyn smiles and bows her head in greeting to its singular occupant, "It is a pleasure to see you once again. Before we ask that which we still must, I would thank you for that which you have already given us."

[Diplomacy: 1d20+10 (Just to keep up her previous good relations with Madam Eva)]

"But, you require a question of us and there is only one thing that I can think of that needs to be asked ..."

Ashlyn pauses a moment to looks around at her companions before she finishes what she has to say and asks the final question, "How do we defeat the great evil that plagues this land?"
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First Post
It was the explosion of color that stuck with Ladreth, the vibrant hues screaming out to be noticed and to brighten the atmosphere, but in this land, in this place, it stood out worse for him. The only colors the half-orc had seen lately had been the grays of the stone and fog, the browns and dark green-blacks of the surrounding trees, and then the red. The flowing, viscous red of life, staining the dullness of greys and transforming them into blacks over time.

And that's what this place deserves. It asks for the drab and gets it aplenty.

This camp, its colors, it seems forced, begging me to see the blues and yellows and feel my heart lift, instead of thinking that the man standing next to me when we first arrived is now buried six feet below, if that. No, Ladreth did not like this place. It serves as an insult to the memory of those who have fallen, of those who still might.

The half-orc paid no heed to the proceedings inside the tent. His purpose wasn't to think or plot or plan, he was smart enough to know his place in that. Instead he listened with his back to the others and the woman, the large woman, and he faced the entrance, content to guard, to prevent any from entering.

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