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Curse of Strahd [CLOSED]

Moire waits patiently with Tegan and Hircus. She takes several breaths and rolls her shoulders to relax, and then bows her head and murmurs a quick prayer to Ilmater. Their situation has been desperate ever since they woke. Depending on what Ina finds, it may prove to be another desperate fight. Hopefully...

And then her head tilts up as she hears Ina's whispering in her ear.

"Three bodies," she says aloud to her companions. "And three wolves, all hungry like that fellow we just saw. Looks like their gear is still there as well. Ina's offering to spook them, though if they're hungry they're unlikely to back off their...meal." The innocent, righteous Paladin she should be should probably blush and find it difficult to say the words, but Moire had done worse much less seen worse in her life as a pirate. Instead, she sighs at the loss of life.

"Suggestions?" She listens for Tegan and Hircus' input, while grappling with what the woman she's been thinks vs. the woman she wants to be thinks. After all, the easiest solution would be to let the wolves finish their meal and move on, as they'd be unlikely to pick a fight on a full stomach. But that also means allowing them to further savage the bodies...
 
Shaking her head, Moire whispers back to Ina "We're moving in behind you to reinforce and lay an ambush. If you can spook them our way, we'll try to take them by surprise."

Then she follows the path a short distance, looking for an ideal spot to hide herself and whack a wolf by surprise.
 
Ina begins to approach the clearing again, making sure to tread quietly. Her knife is held securely in one hand, her breathing deep and barely controlled, her heart thumping in her chest. As she approaches, she tries - and fails - to not think about the fact that they were going to loot off freshly mangled corpses. Sure, she’d handled plenty of items taken from the dead, but she hadn’t been the one to do it...

Shaking her head, she spies a tree that would give her a good vantage point from which to lure the wolves away. Tucking her knife back in her pocket, she tries to channel her "real elf" side and spring herself up the trunk. Distracted as she is, she misses the second grip and finds herself falling onto the ground with far less grace than she’d imagined. And far more noise.

"Gods," She wheezes, propping herself up on her elbows. Half a success, she thinks as she notices the growling coming from nearby. She goes to pull the knife out ready only to find it laying just out of reach. Panic hits her then, and she scrambles to her feet, grabbing the weapon and backing away to where she assumed her friends were. With the free hand she begins to twirl the thread and rattle another quick probably redundant with all that noise message off to Moire.

"Done?"
 
At the sight of retreating prey, the three wolves let out excited huffs and lunge forward to give chase. The foremost beast is missing a good chunk of one of its ears, and its companions have various injurie of their own. They are a good deal faster than Ina, but she has enough of a lead to reach the ambush point with them at her heels.
 
"We're just ahead of you," Moire whispers, responding to the subtle message sent her way. With her quarterstaff gripped tightly, the Paladin prepared to draw attention from her companion only to find the elf didn't need the help. The wolves were fast, but not fast enough to catch Ina before she would pass the point of the ambush.

Ilmater, guide my arms and make my strikes true for the sake of my friends. And help me to make this battle as swift for the wolves as I can, for they're but simple creatures knowing hunger and undeserving of the pain I'm about to bring to them.
 
Tegan's eyes grow wide at the sight of Ina's fall, and his knuckles flash white as he makes impressions in the grip of his makeshift club, biting his lip to keep from cursing aloud.

Before he has a chance to run forward, Tegan sees that Ina has managed to recover and is sprinting back toward the group. Tegan hides behind a tree, letting the club fall to his side, and takes out his sling, preparing to launch a rock at the first wolf he sees chasing Ina.

As Ina runs past, Tegan steps out an lets fly a rock. The shot goes wide, stripping a good chunk of bark from a nearby tree.
 
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Hircus grips tight and worries on the narrow end of his makeshift weapon. His thinning patience is evidenced by the twisting of his massive fist on the club and his curled in lower lip pressed white against his bared teeth. He can't hide in ambush like a petty robber. Quick prayers to Torm escape his lips as he presses his hand against his chest to ask for a blessing. He steps out as soon as the wolves are within distance and yells,

"What evil dares to cross our path,
Will perish in Torm's light!
What beast, what devil tempts Torm's wrath,

Will cower 'neath Torm's might!"

From the sky descends a swirling column of sickly yellow mist, full of distorted, moaning faces. Hircus mouth drops open. He is stunned by this corruption of Torm's holy light. He stumbles back a step from the shock of seeing his divine protector's light changed but is forced back into reality by the sounds of angry wolves growling and pawing at the ground ahead of him. The sight of the wolves and the revulsion he experienced a moment ago brings forth a new fervor in Hircus. He raises the club above his head and charges the wolves screaming as he runs, "Barovia! You shall not break this man!"
 
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Hircus is a possessed man. He charges the wolves in a battle rage. Thoughts of violence against his friends run through his head and spur on Hircus the protector. If there is any part of Hircus that fears for his own skin he has pushes it deep down. Reaching the first scrawny wolf he brings his club down on animal's haunches causing it to curl in its rear and scamper into the trees. He moves so quickly to the next wolf that it looks like he stumbles, but if he did overextend himself he recovers bringing his club back up and catching the second wolf beneath the ribcage. He ends his furious attack hunched and growling, brow furrowed, breathing in heaves.
 
With the two lead wolves soundly thrashed by Hircus' club, the straggler joins them fleeing into the woods to the south. This leaves the trail clear ahead, leading to your grim reward some sixty feet around the bend as Ina figures it.
 
With the wolves driven off, Moire emerges from behind her tree and taps her quarterstaff against the ground as she sighs with relief. Hircus gets a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Good work, my friend." And the possibly-still-frightened Ina gets a friendly smile and a pat of her own. "You took a great risk for us. Thank you."

She glances back at Tegan as the party draws together. Then she points up the trail. "Tegan, you and Ina are probably our best salvage experts. Why don't you see what we can scrape together from their possessions? Hircus and I can, I'm sure, see the remains receive the best burial we can manage if we can find anything to dig with."

Unless others disagree, she sets off up the trail to find the clearing where those just like them met their end.
 
Ina makes a high-pitched hum, her eyes belaying the adrenaline that still runs through her veins. She jumps abruptly as Moire pats her and nods feverishly. She follows Moire down the path, rather redundantly showing the rest of them where the bodies were. She also gleefully points out the tree she attempted to climb, laughing sharply.

"Maybe I’m not ‘elfy’ enough for trees, huh?"
 
"Aye Moire, I've got plenty of experience with burying the fallen." replies Hircus. He regards the club in his hand. "This dog chaser will do for a shovel."
 
As Ina has already discovered, the odor of death in the clearing is quite overwhelming. It's a struggle to suppress your gag reflexes and focus on the task at hand.

While Tegan and Ina scout the perimeter for any additional bodies or items, Hircus and Moire have time to take in the scene. The two dead wolves here are larger than the ones you recently drove off. One is badly burned, the other's head has been crushed. Both have been partly eaten.

As for the three dead adventurers, in addition to the human man in furs that Ina saw, there is a crimson-skinned tiefling woman with horns on her forehead, dressed in a tattered purple cloak, and a male dwarf in a suit of chainmail. The wolves' feeding has confused matters, but Hircus' battlefield experience tells him these people have been dead for a day or two. A quick assessment of their eauipment yields the following inventory:

The Tiefling
  • a light crossbow
  • 12 bolts in a case
  • an empty scabbard
  • a component pouch (can be used for any caster's material components)
  • a suit of leather armor dyed black (damaged but functional)
  • two matching curved daggers
  • a handaxe
  • a backpack with many pockets
  • a bedroll
  • 2 days worth of food
  • a full waterskin
The Dwarf
  • a metal shield with lightning decorations
  • a warhammer with Dwarvish runes on its shaft
  • a suit of chain mail with tiny lightning bolt ornaments
  • a spear
  • a plain backpack
  • 1 day worth of food
  • a half-full waterskin
  • a brass handbell with cloud decorations and the clapper in the shape of a lightning bolt

The Human
  • a heavy maul with hide wound around the length of its shaft
  • 4 javelins with differing numbers of tally marks on their shafts
  • a backpack with a hole torn in its side
  • a wooden shield with the skin of a wolf's head mounted on it
  • an empty waterskin
  • 4 fresh torches
  • 1 torch that has been used
  • a tinderbox
  • 50' of hempen rope

Ina's search of the thorny brush around the clearing reveals no further bodies or equipment, but she does come upon a large black toad with bright yellow spots perched on a log. The creature blinks at her and darts out a long black tongue that seems to wriggle with a life of its own. The tongue grasps a large mosquito, draws it back into the toad's mouth, and the toad speaks to Ina with a gentle, urbane voice. "Ah, have you too walked into this trap? The wolves are clever here--far moreso, I'm afraid, than were my erstwhile companions." The toad chuckles, as if reflecting on a minor embarrassment rather than the carnage so close at hand.
 
Ina is clearly taken aback by the sight in front of her and it takes her a second - and a subtle pinch of the back of her hand - to ground herself. She waves a hand frantically behind her to her companions, hoping one of them will see if they’re not too preoccupied. She then addresses the toad. Totally normal.

"My condolences...? Uh, so this trap was set by the wolves, you say?" She takes a quick glance around to try and hear if anything is approaching them before continuing to talk, keeping her ears pricked as best she can. "Forgive my directness, I’m not from around here, but you seem quite at ease considering. Why are you still here? Are you really a toad?" Ina’s childlike wonder is difficult to quash.
 
Hircus hears Ina speaking to someone in the brambles. He takes a break from digging and walks over to see what's going on. He stands and marvels for a second and then says, "Dear Ina. Of course, it's a toad. Uh, a talking toad?" Hircus squats next to Ina and takes a closer look at the black and yellow animal. "How is it that you have escaped injury my tiny friend?"
 
Tegan approaches at Ina's gesturing to find her and Hircus marveling about the amphibian in the bushes.

Unaware of the amphibian's lingual talents. He first eyes the toad, and then casts a skeptical glance at his party members.

"Right... ya'll have fun licking toads. I'm gonna go pick through the spoils. Don't be pissed at me if all the unspoiled food is claimed."

Tegan moves to turn away, but remembers a particular tavern he visited during his time as a caravan guard. He had been passing through swamps and a local delicacy of frog legs was served to his group. He chuckles to himself as he remembers the server whose eyes were so far apart he thought she may have been related to the entree. The taste of the meat was pleasantly reminiscent of fowl.

"Those spots probably mean he's poisonous, yeah?" Tegan licks his lips "Shame."
 
After finishing her prayer over the deceased, Moire rises from the remains and joins the rest of her companions. "If there's a shield, I've some particular training in the use of one. Otherwise, I think we should collect what we can, divvy it up and-"

The Paladin pauses and finally observes the fact that her three friends are looking at a toad. Talking about it, and talking to it.

Silently, her lips for the letters 'O' and 'K' before brightening upon noticing that metal shield from the dwarf.
 
Faced with a wider audience, the toad hops higher on its log to answer the questions asked of it, somehow producing words in the Common tongue with its yellow-speckled mouth.

95e7028c73ec6b82652d8a34e5c89c9c.jpg"This whole land is a trap, with us caught in its net, so where could I go, I ask? I've wandered off a few times since yesterday, but, being a creature of habit, I make my way back here to see if any fresh scavengers pass by. I attribute my survival thus far to being small and slippery. Furthermore, I am told my flavor is gamey and confers an unpleasant numbness to the tongue. If that is true, I would fancy myself a poor meal indeed."

"However, I am a toad only insofar as any of us are constrained by these transient physical forms. I am also a parent, a child, a mentor, a pet, a wanderer, a servant, a spy and an assassin. I have many names. I will call you Haskafadoux which means Frog Finder," the toad says to Ina. "You," it says to Hircus, "are Noolabax, or Lonely Teeth. This one is Loopanom, meaning Puzzle Box," it says to Moire, "and lastly," it nods in Tegan's direction, "we have Cor lo Tatzi, the Bag of Peaches. Naming is one of my special talents, so please let me know if you require names for anything else. What will you call me, I wonder?"

"Returning to our theme of physical transience and my sanguine attitude, the warlock you see there did seem diverting for a time, and I was tethered to her as a familiar. She had potential but recent events have proved her a failure. The other two are not worthy of consideration, save for the animadversions I could heap on that fool barbarian I call Sout-jalopsy—Hair Golem. His selfish demands were the cause of all our misfortunes."

"On the whole, it has been my experience that the first blush of friendship soon pales to tedious contempt, but we carry on in the company of those we despise out of sloth and a misguided sense of obligation. What say you to that, Puzzle Box? And where, if I may ask, are the four of you bound from here? I can only assume you will directly seek an escape from this place, as would any rational being, Hairy Golem excepted, of course."
 
Ina smiles and bows slightly to the toad, inclining her head. "Haskafadoux," she repeats, curling the word in her mouth, "I hope you don’t mind my saying so but I find you fascinating, Vanwandir. In my home tongue it means roughly ‘lost wanderer’," she pauses, enraptured by this small creature, "We have also come from elsewhere, and indeed wish to return home. Again, forgive me...but if you were tethered to this warlock, and she’s now deceased, should you not have returned to your home? I, um, I don’t know so much about magic," she pauses again, her eyes lighting up, "Perhaps you could teach me? You could come with us. Safety in numbers, right?" Ina holds a palm out in offering, then remembers herself and glances to the others, cheeks slightly flushed, "if nobody minds, I mean?"
 
Tegan wonders how this strange frog knew his favorite food was peaches, or if it was just a lucky guess. The thought reminds him of the time he swallowed a pit on a dare and that, to his knowledge, the pit had never made it's way out.

As Ina suggests adding a new member to the party, he snaps from his daydream and raises his left eyebrow particularly high while grimacing, making some unkind judgments about Ina's decision making process. Turning back to the toad, Tegan says: "I'm certain you have your own matters to attend to, eggs to lay, fertilize, or whatnot. I'd hate to bring the totally inconspicuous frog to town where any number of untold accidents could befall him, Ina."

Tegan steps away, walking toward the piles of equipment and picks up the following items:
  • The plain backpack
  • A day's worth of rations
  • The four unburned torches
  • The tinderbox
  • The full waterskin
  • The spear
  • The wooden wolf-skinned shield
He places the waterskin, torches, tinderbox, rations and the other items on his person in the backpack. He gives the spear a few thrusts and hefts the shield, testing the weight.

Then, partly because he wants to draw Ina's attention away from the suspicious frog, and partly because he's noticed the holes in it, Tegan lifts the black leather armor, puts on a goofy smile and says "Ina! Come try this on. I bet you'd look great!"
 
Ina straightens and cracks her knuckles, grimacing slightly.

"I'll be back in a minute, Vandwandir."

Her cheeks are still flushed and she makes no eye contact as she takes the leathers from Tegan with a small nod of thanks and begins to try them on. *Serviceable*, she thinks to herself, adjusting the various ties until they’re as comfortable as she can make them. She prods at the damaged areas, brow furrowed. She casts an eye over the rest of the belongings and the shift to ‘practical Ina’ is almost tangible.

"If nobody minds I’d like at least one of those daggers? Also, there’s an empty scabbard there with no weapon," she points out the scabbard from the tiefling, "Maybe it was the rapier that Lala woman was using? She was inexperienced with it. Which leads to several questions." She breathes heavily through her nostrils.
 
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Rigor mortis has left the warlock's body by now, so it doesn't take any longer than the usual minute or so for Tegan to get the leather armor off. However, the required rolling and jostling of the corpse, as well as the state of that part of the armor which rests beneath the body, are better left undescribed. Tegan has to pause multiple times, doubled over in fits of retching.

As the armor comes off, Vanwandir has time to address Ina's further concerns. "Ah, yes indeed. I too should have expected such an expedient return from this place on the death of my master. But it seems trapped here is truly trapped; departure for all destinations is barred equally. I wonder what will become of the souls unmoored from flesh here today. In the normal course of events, they would go elsewhere too, but if they remain trapped with the rest of us ... well, that might go some ways towards explaining the heavy atmosphere."

"You are wise to invite me along with you, Haskafadoux. It seems I have been here quite a bit longer than you, and could give good council on the sundry places and people, such as they are. Bag of Peaches is kind to be so concerned for my safety, but this appearance has not been a problem on past excursions. Far from it, I'm quite capable of snuggling down into the folds of a cloak or other garment, and nuzzled there, I go undetected by passers by."

At this point, Ina excuses herself to take the soiled leather armor from Tegan. Vanwandir's little head bobs in acknowledgment and he continues speaking to Moire and Hircus. "Puzzle Box, Lonely Teeth, as I was saying, I would not be averse to joining you for a while, no strings attached of course, so long as you'll be taking the road back north. I say let's cut right to the matter of securing our exit and have no more gallivanting about this countryside on useless errands of the Hairy Golem variety."

It takes Ina another minute to don the black leather, with much the same experience of revulsion that Tegan had getting it off the dead warlock. The saturated material is cold and damp against Ina's back. Hopefully some time away from the corpse will freshen it up. Tucked in one of the armor's inner straps is a folded sheet of paper with the following printed on it:

wolf_shead.jpg
 
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As the frog begins actually speaking in her hearing, Moire listens intently. She then silently begins picking up things to carry in one of the backpacks. As a pause finally comes in the conversation, the Paladin at last approaches the frog and gives it a warm smile as she drops to one knee and bends over, putting herself at eye level with the talking animal.

"You do need a name," she says, peering thoughtfully at it. "If you don't already have one you favor, I would call you Lurual, after the Goddess of Intelligent and Talking Animals. Surely she would welcome your thoughts, were you to turn them to her."

"I'm interested in what you say, Lurual. You say this land is a trap. For whom? Who set the trap and who is its intended prey?"

As she continues loading the pack up, Moire smiles slightly and shakes her head. "Since you asked my opinion, I say that your experience has not been mine. My old friendships have faded but not from sloth or obligation, but because we chose different paths in life. Some roads drop to wade through swamps while others require a little work to climb the slopes, yet result in a firm path with a clear view. No relationship, no person is ever so far gone down one route that they cannot change their mind and choose the other." Her smile grows. "But seeing you are quite the studied observer, I imagine you expected me to say all that so I will say only this much more; hope is priceless and worth having in and of itself, whether it is lost some day or not."

"Now," Moire adds, rising back up. "I cannot promise a complete absence of 'gallivanting'. But I believe all of us are equally interested in escaping this place and going home, and I for one would welcome wise counsel sincerely meant." Settling the pack on her shoulders, the Paladin steps right up to the frog and extends an arm, giving him a sleeve to hop onto. "Your company is welcome, Lurual, as are you."

"Now..." The Paladin points to the scabbard. "I don't suppose you've seen where its sword went to, have you?" she asks the frog.
 
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Hircus smiles at the sight of Ina speaking with the tiny creature. For a moment the wonder of the scene transports Hircus out of these damp woods and back to the moss-covered stones of his family homestead. He remembers playing on the shady side of the house in the Spring, turning over stones to see what he could find. Many a brown toad would hop or orange salamander would slither or black cricket would bound away before his small hands could stop them. Mother would tell him to be kind to the small animals and they would bring good fortune to him. Hircus is roused from his reflection when the toad begins speaking of names. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation he mumbles, "Noolabox?" then gives a twisted smile.

"Noolabox," he says a little louder when Ina moves away. "I am not sure that I understand your name, but I accept it as the gift it is. It reminds me of the temple I was trained in. There was an ancient cemetery not too far from the temple grounds. It was really just a collection of slender white stones sticking out of the ground at odd angles. As a young boy, they reminded me of teeth. I imagined up a whole story that a warrior giant had been slain and fell there dead. Those grave markers were all that was left of the giant's enormous maw after eons of rain and wind wearing away his flesh and bone. What if it wasn't a cemetery filled with many people, but the corpse of just one immense being?" Hircus looks into the distance and smiles softly at the memory, then without notice he stands and claps his hands, "Welp! We need to get to more urgent business. It was nice to meet you spot."

Hircus walks over and begins to remove the befouled chainmail from the dwarf. The stench is nearly unbearable, but nothing that Hircus has not experienced before. He absently admires the storm decorations on the chainmail and the handbell in the shape of a storm cloud. Using an old trick from the battlefield he dropped the chainmail into the loamy forest floor and rubbed the armor around to grind the dirt into the links. "That should at least cover up some of the stench with a more pleasant smell of earth." Says Hircus as he leans back on his haunches.
When he hears the call of the wolves he stands upright in an instant. "We must leave. Now!" He says in an urgent tone. "I do not want to tangle with the wolves again. Ina, Tegan, Moire! Grab what you can and let's move." Hircus slings the mail over his shoulder and grabs the torn backpack. He stuffs the chainmail hauberk inside the bag to act as a liner then tosses in the following items: the brass handbell, a day's rations, a half full waterskin. He heaves the warhammer, slings the backpack over his shoulders and tucks the four javelins in between the straps of the pack. Cinching and tightening the load he grabs the hammer with two hands and hurries he others along the way they came saying, "Come now dear ones. We must not linger here any longer."
 
"Lonely Teeth understands something of the art of naming, and I know the deity you speak of, Loopanom, but Vanwandir was my first name here today, and I will keep that. There must be some allowance for precedence, after all."

In answer to Moire's questions about the intended victim and the keeper of the "trap", Vanwandir professes to be as mystified as she. "I cannot fathom who created this place, or for what purpose. Was it intended for us, or are we just sad accidental casualties? I will say that it was one of Hairy Golem's obsessions that led us here. Something about kidnapped children—oh, the tedium of it. The mere mention of the 'quest' is a soporific."

"The people here, dull and frightful as they are, speak of a great, terrible master of the land. I call him Sachramenadies, the Powdered Lover. We saw his magnificent castle from afar, but my companions were too cautious, and dared not approach. Were I to seek answers to these questions, I would appeal to this lord directly."

Vanwandir graciously accepts Moire's invitation to join your group, and begins the long climb up her extended arm. Along the way, he comments, "Perhaps I read too much into things, but I sense a certain undertone in your disquisition on friendship, differing paths, and so on. Yes, I have played this game before. It is one I enjoy, so I am happy to play it again. You will try to redeem the Lost Wanderer; I will try to break the Puzzle Box. I warn you though, Loopanom, it is a game I play well. But if I speak in error, please forgive me and pay no mind."

"As for the blade that once occupied that scabbard, it was taken by three travelers who came before you. Through the leaves I believe I saw them discover some other trinkets as well. Oh, there were many cries of delight at the things they found."

Having reached Moire's shoulder, Vanwandir suddenly slips under the collar of her jacket and squirms down towards the region of her left armpit. Something small and furry settles there and grips her inner garment with tiny claws. "Don't be alarmed," says the familiar's voice, a muffled whisper that only Moire can hear through her jacket, "It's easier to travel this way. Oh, and if you like, you can call me Lurual, at least when Frog Finder isn't around. It can be our secret name."

You have gathered up all the items left at the site, save for the maul, empty scabbard and component pouch, when the sound of howling wolves arises from somewhere to the north. As Hircus shoulders his bag and calls for a return to the main trail, Vanwandir whispers to Moire, "Oh dear, that's a familiar sound. What do you think, Puzzle Box? A mile away? Two?"
 

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