11-12-2020, 03:17 PM
@Rhodric
Outside the Inn, a fog lies over the town this evening, draping everything in its clammy grasp. The damp cobbled street shines as the light of street lanterns dances across the slick stones. The cold fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside.
Yet inside these tavern walls the food is hearty and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk.
Suddenly, a hush falls over the tavern. Even the flagons of ale seem to silence themselves. The tavern door swings open. Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides into the room. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Without hesitation, he walks directly up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms.
His accented voice speaks, "I have been sent to you to deliver this message! If you be a creature of honor, you will come to my master's aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich woods at night!" He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. "Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich woods. There you will find my master in Barovia. If you're quick about it, you may be able to catch up to the small group who accepted the plea merely 30 minutes before you arrived."
With that, he leaves...
The babble of tavern voices resumes, although somewhat subdued. The letter is lying before you. Dated yesterday, the ink is still not dry and the parchment is crisp. The seal is of a crest you don't recognize.
Assuming you open the letter...
Alynorae and Sumayl were not sure how long they were traveling. You guess merely 20 to 30 minutes had passed since you entered that fog but your level of exhaustion made it feel like it you were in there much longer. You were told by the gypsy it would only be 5 hours to travel to find his master in Barovia but so far it seemed like it was much later. The perpetual rolling blackness of thunderclouds that cast a gray pall over the land didn't help as made it impossible to keep track of time.
As you travel, there's a deathly stillness in the dark woods that surrounded the road but yet you can't help feeling like you're being watched. Every once in a while, out of the corner of your eyes you catch what seems to be the flicker of eyes reflecting your torchlight. They seem to glow menacingly from the woods but when you looked to investigate they would vanish. You dismiss them as figments of your imagination or phantoms created by the strange motile mists that surround you on either side. But you keep your wits about you, just in case they weren't illusions of your suddenly overactive imagination.
Outside the Inn, a fog lies over the town this evening, draping everything in its clammy grasp. The damp cobbled street shines as the light of street lanterns dances across the slick stones. The cold fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside.
Yet inside these tavern walls the food is hearty and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk.
Suddenly, a hush falls over the tavern. Even the flagons of ale seem to silence themselves. The tavern door swings open. Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides into the room. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Without hesitation, he walks directly up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms.
His accented voice speaks, "I have been sent to you to deliver this message! If you be a creature of honor, you will come to my master's aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich woods at night!" He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. "Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich woods. There you will find my master in Barovia. If you're quick about it, you may be able to catch up to the small group who accepted the plea merely 30 minutes before you arrived."
With that, he leaves...
The babble of tavern voices resumes, although somewhat subdued. The letter is lying before you. Dated yesterday, the ink is still not dry and the parchment is crisp. The seal is of a crest you don't recognize.
Assuming you open the letter...
Alynorae and Sumayl were not sure how long they were traveling. You guess merely 20 to 30 minutes had passed since you entered that fog but your level of exhaustion made it feel like it you were in there much longer. You were told by the gypsy it would only be 5 hours to travel to find his master in Barovia but so far it seemed like it was much later. The perpetual rolling blackness of thunderclouds that cast a gray pall over the land didn't help as made it impossible to keep track of time.
As you travel, there's a deathly stillness in the dark woods that surrounded the road but yet you can't help feeling like you're being watched. Every once in a while, out of the corner of your eyes you catch what seems to be the flicker of eyes reflecting your torchlight. They seem to glow menacingly from the woods but when you looked to investigate they would vanish. You dismiss them as figments of your imagination or phantoms created by the strange motile mists that surround you on either side. But you keep your wits about you, just in case they weren't illusions of your suddenly overactive imagination.
