Party 17

Abbey, Courtyard:

The man starts to turn to leave but pauses when Ismark speaks up, glancing impassively over his shoulder. "It is not the height that reveals to me the cracks in the very foundations of this land, of the Core, the mists themselves. To truly see what lies beyond you must first render yourself blind..." It sounded as if there were more to the end of the sentence, but he trails off and doesn't finish it.

"I know not if it be wisdom, nor grace, but I will share it nonetheless as is my role in this game." He turns back and begins to walk on, leaving the guard to look back at you all expectantly, as if waiting for you all to follow them inside the abbey. "He waits with lady," the guard says, trying to offer an explanation. "He said he sees big quake, big shaking, and see mists go away. Knew you were coming."
 
Abbey, Main Hall:

Following the priest and his guard into the abbey proper, the doors of the western wing lead into a grand main hall, dusty and dirtied with countless years. The ground floor is a large, fifty-foot square room with arched glass windows, leading outwards to the view beyond. A cauldron sits on an iron rack above a hearthfire, above which hangs a golden disk engraved with a gleaming symbol of the sun. In one corner, a flimsy wooden staircase climbs to what seems to be the upper level; across, an open cellar door descends into quiet darkness.

Gentle-sounding music trickles down from above, simple and cherished chimes from the soft winding of a music box. It accompanies a rhythmic and repetitive creaking of steps, as if someone was moving to and fro and back again above you all. The holy man seems to nod approvingly at this noise, before moving towards the cauldron and beckoning you all to gather around as well.

"This 'Sergei'... he is a foolish one, if he wished to defy the Powers that Be and steal from Strahd that which he cherishes most," he says impassively, an otherworldly echo to his voice, as he begins to stir the murky liquid in the cauldron. As he does so the amulet of the Morninglord around his neck begins to glow faintly, in tandem with a soft glow within the waters. Within it forms a silhouette of two figures embracing each other.

After a moment, they are torn apart as if by some unseen force. "No, They would never grant Strahd such bliss, such such resolution, finality of fate. And so this Sergei was punished for his hubris." While one figure is violently torn to shadows, the other seems to hover in place for a moment before being split into two copies, who are then pulled away past the edges of the image. "But the damage is done. The very act has shaken this land to its core, and opened up the mists to lands unknown. That is perhaps where you will find your kin, or part of her, though in a new shell she is perhaps kin no longer."

Only after having said all that does he tear his gaze from the cauldron, looking back to the group for a reaction as the images within the swirling cauldron fade. "Further to the west, where once my sight had ended, lies a new land swallowed by this domain. Your answers may lie there."
 
Rolax stood in silence for a moment. A tingle running through his spine as he watched the divine power being used.

Eventually he broke the silence.

"We thank you for your assistance. But I am a plain spoken person. I am no good with riddles. All we have had is riddle after riddle." slowing his breathing he paused again. "I know the messages of the Gods are often left to interpretation, but we seek guidance and actionable information. Time is very much in short supply. I implore you, any details or specifics you can give us would only aid us further."

"Our time is short, and our need is great"

Pausing again before continuing.
"We seek other items and allies to aid us. We had a reading that helped set us on our path."
Rolax looked at his companions, then closed his eyes in thought. "Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith."

"4 of Swords, The Mercenary, The thing you seek lies with the dead, under mountains of gold coins.
3 of Glyphs The Healer. A holy symbol of great hope. Look to the west. Find a pool blessed by the light of the white sun.
8 of Glyphs The Bishop. It tells of a weapon of vengeance: a sword of sunlight. What you seek lies in a pile of treasure, beyond a set of amber doors.
The Raven. Find the leader of the feathered ones who live among the vines. Though old, he has one more fight left in him.
And The Beast. Your enemy is a creature of darkness, whose powers are beyond mortality. The beast sits on his dark throne. "

Opening his eyes, he looked at the Master "Do you see anything in those words that we can not to further set us on our way?"
 
Kiv doesn't like any of this. "Speaking in riddles," he mutters under his breath as Rolax seeks more guidance from the priest. He looked up at the ceiling, following the footsteps as they move across the floor above them, wishing they would cease that damnable pacing. What kind of benevolent priest has such followers -- strange furred humans that seem to be as terrified of him as much as they were in awe? The footsteps above shift, and begin to move toward the stairs. He turns to the stairs, suddenly intensely interested to see who, or what, might be joining them.
 
Magnus listened to the whole conversation silently. Awestruck by the presentation of it all, the bard could appreciate the vagueness of his words, as if no more than a poem he had memorized beforehand. So, he listened. He allowed himself to delve deeper into these questions that were presented before him by such a great performer. Allowed himself to properly think about the knowledge that emanates from this immaculate individual, knowledge he learned how to cherish long ago.

When the holy man finishes talking, Magnusblinked a few times, suddenly realizing he was focused on a single point for too long. "I'm sure we are all grateful for this new information. But, if you allow me to ask about the intricacies of the tale you have just asked..." He trailed off, as if unsure how that sentence was supposed to end. "So, if I understand all of this," he motions to the cauldron, "you are saying Tatyana's curse was to be split in two. Then, one of the parts was Ireena?? The other half lies west?" The half elf sighed and ran his hands alongside the edges of his mask. "I know it sounds crazy, but, like, it is the only way I could read into that." He looked to the priest, trying his best apologetic face if he butchered the meaning behind the tale. "I'm also not good at riddles." He added with a grin
 
Abbey, Main Hall:

The priest looks back at Rolax, setting down the spoon he used to stir the cauldron. "I speak of everything I can, holy man. I see far and wide in the present moment, but I am no Vistana -- the future is theirs, and theirs alone, to reveal." Moving around the group he steps towards the stained glass windows, looking through to the mountains beyond. "But you have seen the pool, and your temple of amber lies upon Mount Ghakis, on the southward road near the very edge of the border..." he pauses to reconsider his words. "...what used to be the border. Where there was once endless mist now lies a new land, one that not even Strahd knows of, called from beyond the mists. The land of Gundarak."

"It will catch his interest, for better or for worse." A female voice drifts down from the staircase, the tone restrained and controlled much like their careful pace down the steps. After a few moments the group can see the petite figure of a young woman, dressed in an old red long-sleeved dress tattered at the ends where it drags along the floor. Her auburn hair is neatly braided behind her, and though her attire covers most of her arms and legs it is easy to notice her pale, alabaster skin. She looks to the group impassively, methodically studying each one before her eyes rest on Magnus and she continues to speak.

"This is no fairy tale, no riddle. That man you saw at the pool was truly Sergei, trying to rescue Tatyana's soul even as she existed in the form of Ireena. He almost got away with it. But the Dark Powers punished him for trying to cheat death. His soul was eviscerated as punishment." The woman's voice is monotone, as if merely stating facts or reciting from memory. "Tatyana's soul was sent to the new country where Strahd could not easily find her. What was left of Ireena's mind would have been lost if the Abbot did not call it back here."

The priest shoots her a glare, as if surprised she would say that, but the woman ignores him and steps forward, greeting the party with a well-practiced, almost mechanical curtsy. Then she holds out a thick leather tome for someone to take, her fingers grimey with dried dirt. "I remembered the reading and I found this for you, in the graveyard. It may help you in your journey."

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The Tome of Strahd: An Excerpt

I am the Ancient. I am the Land.

My beginnings are lost in the darkness of the past.
I was the warrior, I was good and just.
I thundered across the land liket he wrath of a just god,
but the war years and the killing years wore down my soul,
as the wind wears stone into sand.

All goodness slipped from my life. I found my youth
and strength gone, and all I had left was death.
My army settled in the valley of Barovia
and took power over the people in the name of a just god,
but with none of a god’s grace or justice.

I called for my family, long unseated from their ancient thrones,
and brought them here to settle in the castle Ravenloft.
They came with a younger brother of mine, Sergei.
He was handsome and youthful.
I hated him for both.

From the families of the valley, one spirit shone above all others.
A rare beauty, who was called “perfection,” “joy,” and “treasure.”
Her name was Tatyana,
and I longed for her to be mine.

I loved her with all my heart.
I loved her for her youth.
I loved her for her joy. But she spurned me!
“Old One” was my name to her —“elder” and “brother” also.
Instead, her heart went to Sergei.
They were betrothed.
The date was set.

With words she called me “brother,”
but when I looked into her eyes they reflected another name:
“death.”
It was the death of the aged that she saw in me.
She loved her youth and enjoyed it.
But I had squandered mine.
The death she saw in me turned her from me.
And so I came to hate death — my death.
I would not be called “death” so soon.
I made a pact with death, a pact of blood.
On the day of the wedding, I killed Sergei.
My pact was sealed with his blood.

I found Tatyana weeping in the garden east of the chapel.
She fled from me.
She would not let me explain,
and a great anger swelled within me.
She had to understand the pact I made for her.
I pursued her.
Finally, in despair, she flung herself from the walls of Ravenloft,
and I watched everything I ever wanted fall from my grasp,
forever.

It was a thousand feet through the mists.
No trace of her was ever found.
Not ever I know her final fate.
Arrows from the castle guards pierced me to my soul... but I did not die.
Nor did I live.
I became undead,
forever.

I have studied much since then.
“Vampyr” is my new name.
I still lust for life and youth,
and I curse the living that took them from me.
Even the sun is against me.
It is the sun and its light I fear the most,
but little else can harm me now.

Even a stake through my heart does not kill me,
though it holds me from movement.
But the sword, that cursed sword that Sergei brought!
I must dispose of that awful tool!
I fear and hate it as much as the sun.

I have often hunted for Tatyana.
I have even felt her within my grasp,
but she escapes, always.
She taunts me!
She taunts me!
What will it take to bend her love to me?

I now reside far below Ravenloft.
I live among the dead,
and sleep beneath the very stones of this hollow castle of despair.
I shall seal shut the walls of the stairs,
that none may disturb me.

-- Strahd von Zarovich​
 
Kiv glances at Ismark and approaches the woman. "Her mind is still here? What do you mean by that?" He gently takes the book from her hand, moving slowly so as not to disturb her, and noting the thick layer of makeup covering her skin. "Thank your for bringing us the book. That's very thoughtful of you. May I ask with whom it was buried?" he asks in quiet tones. Quiet and careful was not usually his style, but he felt as though if he looked at her funny she might crumble into dust and blow away.

He sits down and begins reading quietly to himself at first, but then realizing what it is, backs up and begins again, reading aloud.
 
ismark2.jpg"Call it back? What does that mean?" Ismark asks,growing visibly distressed. "Do you mean, you..." he looks between the auburn-haired woman and the Abbott. "No. That is not ... who is the owner of the Blood of the Vine Tavern? No ... what was the name of our first dog? No, forget that. What is your favorite song?" He chews his lip and breathes heavily, but will have to wait for the woman's answer; Kiv has begun reading from the leather tome.
 
Abbey, Main Hall:

Like everyone else the woman waits until the reading has concluded; when she looks back to Ismark her expression is stoic, unfeeling. Hhe answers stoically, her arms coming to rest at her side after handing off the tome. "The three <Mortu> sisters own the Blood of the Vine Tavern together after being shunned by their clan -- Sorvia, Mirabel, Alenka. Batico is the first puppy that I can recall, but he was sickly and died within two months." It takes a moment for her to digest the last question asked of her before she starts to respond. "... The song I remember being sung the most is <Noapte de Tigani>, so I will assume it was my favorite."

"To call it her 'mind' is an overstatement," the Abbot replies to Kiv, seeming to concede at the strange woman's confession. "On sensing the disturbance I... took it upon myself to capture her memories and place them in a suitable vessel -- the most readily available being Vasilika here." He nods in the woman's direction before sighing and shaking his head. "But the mere knowledge of a life lived feels distant, foreign, fake. You are correct in that it is not your Ireena, because without mind and soul combined it is not. If you want her back they must be brought together."

He walks closer to Vasilika, carefully observing the woman's behavior. Though for the majority of your encounter he had seemed peaceful and knowledgeable, there is now a tinge of disappointment in his expression. "If nothing else, she is safe for now in this shattered state. Strahd lusts after Tatyana's beautiful soul, regardless of its vessel. This one no longer matters to him -- his target has been spirited away from him once more. But he does not yet know where it resides, nor with whom."

He looks back to the group, his hands idly clasped behind his back. "And what will you do now? Try to reclaim this wayward soul? Seek allies in a land that has yet to know the tyranny of Strahd? I must stay here and tend to my flock, and for the remains of your friend, but this is an interesting turn in the game and I will be keeping watch."

Vasilika in the meantime has turned to the stained glass windows and begun to sing a foreign children's song, hitting the notes correctly but still sounding flat from a lack of emotion. "<Oh copii, țigani ai nopții...>"
 
ismark2.jpgIsmark's face flushes as the woman and the Abbott speak. "<Ach, febră>" he gasps, pressing a hand on his forehead. He makes as if to wander over to the wall, then doubles back and grips Kiv's shoulder for support. "I'm Sorry, <Cavaler Balaur>," he says, catching his breath, "just a minute to catch my breath." A moment passes, and the trembling in Ismark's hand worsens. "So hot in here. Excuse me, I need some air. I'll be just outside." Pushing off from Kiv's shoulder, the young Barovian noble staggers out the door that leads to the Abbey's courtyard.
 
Kiv does his best to process all this new information as Ismark leaves to steady himself. The concept of separating mind and soul was over his head. The arcane has always held a fascination for him, but he was a relative novice in the subject, able to cast a handful of spells and even those were done almost by accident.

"I'm all for bringing Ireena, or Tatyana, back, but maybe we ought to deal with Strahd first. How does reclaim a soul anyway?"
 
Abbey, Main Hall:

"If that is how you wish to go about it," the Abbot replies to Kiv, his voice still serene and impassive. "Your sword lies in wait for you, within that amber temple long forgotten. Strahd will likely leave you to it, as he mourns the loss of his destined. But take care -- the artifacts you currently hold, the weapons for Strahd's demisre, will not save you from the evil that lies within those doors. Pray you are prepared to struggle."

He doesn't elaborate on that, moving on to the topic of souls without skipping a beat."After death, souls are normally held in purgatory until a newborn child calls for one to give it life, emotion, consciousness. Without one, a soulless person merely shambles around mindlessly, going through the motions of a facsimile of life."

Upon saying that he goes over to Vasilika, gently running a hand through her hair. She doesn't seem to respond, her gaze affixed upon the window. "But Tatyana's soul was not allowed to wait, and was thrust upon the world once more. I imagine that some soulless vessel, someone content with their pretend existence, attracted that soul and took it within her. A pitiful woman, who now realizes that she has been dead all her life. If you bring her to me, perhaps your Ireena can be brought back."

He clasps his hands once more, contemplating the idea. "Perhaps."
 
Most of what the Abbot says is nonsense to Kiv, souls and vessels and purgatory. It was the sword that interested him. A sword was real. It had weight and an edge and he could hold it in his hands as he struck down an enemy. Better to focus on the real.

"Evil seems to lie in every corner of this realm," he says. Kiv pauses a moment, looking directly and unambiguously at the Abbot. "Are you familiar with the temple's particular brand? We've struggled plenty already, and I'd like to make sure we're ready for it."
 
Abbey, Main Hall:

"..No evil that I would ever care to be intimate with," replies the Abbot, looking back to Kiv as he asks about the temple. He seems to take a moment to respond to him but continues nonetheless, gazing over his cauldron once more. "Sheltered by a bitter frost, high within the peaks of Mount Ghakis. The chill alone would break your bones, before you even face the unholy fires that burn within -- and the denizens of evil that seek warmth within its flames. You would be wise to seek aid... to enter as you are would be a death sentence."

He pauses, as he stares at what seems to be a moving image within the cauldron. Should you match his gaze you'd make out the silhouette of a different person, standing tall and stoic upon a balcony of sorts. "Tell me..." he begins again, head tilting in curiosity. "You seek to fell Strahd, as many have tried. But should you succeed -- if you succeed -- who would you put in his place? Who would take rule over this dark land of Barovia?"
 
Thorvir shuffles around in place, silent for what feels like a moment too long. "Perhaps we'll turn the rulership of the land to the hands of its people," he states in a deadpan tone. "Jokes aside, what do you mean, exactly? You speak of cryptic things as if you already know the answer. Is taking the current king down from his throne not enough? In any case, I will defer to you all on this question. I have trusted few in my time, but I count you friends among those I'd give my life for."

He considers the words before, about a soulless woman now given will. "Ireena's soul. You say it has gone to another. I am not an expert of wand-waving and other magical rituals, but would bringing Ireena back cost this woman her life?"

He watches intently for the Abbot's reply.
 
ismark2.jpgHaving seemingly collected himself, Ismark returns from the Abbey's courtyard and stands near the door. Not wishing to cause a further scene, he works silently to piece together that part of the talk he's missed, giving a nod of acknowledgment to anyone who looks his way.
 
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