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Throughout the night a calm like the grave settles on the inn, uneasy, unnerving but unplagued at least by nightmares...

Each awakes in their own room, the early chill so common from the last few weeks seems finally to begin to relent as the mild air hints weakly at the dawning of spring...

Downstairs in the commons a small fire is made and Elsa seems already up and about with breakfast treats and hot beverages to coax the waking.


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It is 8am, 14th of March 736 BC (Barovian Calendar)
Spring seems finally to have peeked out from the lingering winter

Casters pick your spells for the day

All DM copies of PC sheets have been updated with new xp totals, and Harmonian language progress

Esker Manyblades

Esker rises early despite the mild hangover. He makes his way downstairs and orders a strong and bitter mug of hot tea. Just the thing to start a morning sipping and warming himself by the fire. Afterwards, he intends to go back upstairs and sharpen his blades and make sure his things are properly packed for the journey.

The Vesve was beautiful.

Not merely familiar, but impossibly perfect. Every leaf was unblemished, every fern stood upright as though no foot had ever disturbed it, and crystal streams wound silently between ancient roots. It was the forest she had loved as a child, untouched by axe or fire or war.

Yet something was wrong. There was no birdsong.

No rustle of squirrels among the branches. No distant cry of a hawk. Even the wind seemed unwilling to stir the leaves, and the silence pressed upon her until it became almost painful.

Ahead, figures waited amongst the trees, her patrol.

Sylfaen stood at their head, one hand resting lightly upon the shaft of her spear, a gentle smile touching her lips. Beside her stood Naivara, Liraeth, and the others, every face exactly as Althiriel remembered it before the battle. No torn flesh. No blood. No fear.

Relief surged through her so suddenly that it almost stole her breath.

"I've been looking for you," she whispered, hurrying forward, yet none of them moved.

Only when she drew close did she notice the pale mist curling around their feet. It drifted lazily through the forest, hiding the ground beneath them until it seemed they stood upon the fog itself.

"We know," Sylfaen said softly.

Althiriel smiled despite herself. "You're alive."

"No " For the first time, sorrow touched Sylfaen's eyes, the single word struck with more force than any blade.

"I failed you." Althiriel stopped where she stood.

Again Sylfaen shook her head.

"I should have called the retreat sooner."

"No."

"I led you into that clearing."

"No " Still the answer came with quiet certainty.

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. At last Sylfaen stepped towards her, and for a heartbeat Althiriel thought her oldest friend was about to embrace her.

Instead, she reached past Althiriel's shoulder, gentle fingers rested where the creature's claws had torn into her back. For a moment the pain disappeared. It didn't vanish completely, but replaced by a warmth unlike anything she had felt since the Mists had swallowed the forest.

"You still carry us," Sylfaen whispered.

The fog began to thicken, drifting between them like slow-moving water. The other scouts were already fading, their outlines dissolving into pale grey.

"No," Althiriel pleaded, reaching for them. "Come with me."

"We are." A faint smile returned to Sylfaen's face.

"I can't see you."

"You were never meant to."

The words had scarcely left her lips before the forest changed.

The proud oaks twisted into warped silhouettes. Their branches bent like clawed hands reaching through the darkness. The clean scent of pine gave way to damp earth and decay.

Somewhere beyond the trees came a low, wet laugh. Not loud, or close but it was familiar never the less

It was followed by the sound of something feeding.

Sylfaen turned towards the darkness, her expression hardening as though she had heard it too.

"We keep it behind you."

Then she was gone.

Althiriel awoke with a sharp breath, one hand already reaching behind her shoulder where the warmth had been. Her fingers found only the old wound beneath her tunic.

The room at the inn was empty. Elsa had long since vanished she suspected. There were no footsteps, and no whispered voices.

Only the faint scent of fresh pine lingered in the air..

She rose, dressed rapidly and forced herself to join the others. "I will carry you." She whispered and entered the commons.

Sleep comes like cold water.

She dreams she is back in the Broken Wheel, though it is emptier than she remembers. The fire burns low, the chairs stand neatly beneath the tables, and someone has stopped every clock. The silence is so complete she can hear the embers settling in the hearth.

"Sabrina?" she calls but there is no answer.

She walks through the common room and notices the little things first. Sabrina's shawl is folded over the back of a chair. A mug still sits on the windowsill where the morning sun would warm it. Mira reaches for it, but it crumbles into grey dust between her fingers.
Outside, the streets of Skald are wrapped in mist.

She knows these streets. She has walked them a hundred times. Yet every turning leads her back to the inn.

Again.
Again.
Again.

Each time there is less left inside.
Te fire is gone.
The chairs have vanished.
The songbird Lena carved for her lies broken on the floor.

Then she hears Sabrina laughing. Not frightened. Not calling for help. Simply laughing somewhere beyond the mist.

Mira runs.

The sound grows fainter with every step.

She catches glimpses of red hair disappearing around corners, of a familiar blue dress at the end of empty streets, but every time she reaches the place she thought Sabrina stood, there is only white fog waiting for her.

At last she finds the inn again.
Only now it has become another place.
The Velvet Lyre.
The candles burn.
The music plays.

Men watch from the shadows with faces she almost recognises. Harl smiles from the darkness. Joren turns away before she can reach him. Aiden stands by the door with blood on his hands.
Beyond them all sits Sabrina, alone at a table, smiling as though none of them exist.

"You came back," Sabrina says softly.

"I never left."

"But you always do." The words strike harder than any blade.

Mira tries to cross the room.

The floor stretches beneath her feet like the deck of a ship in an endless storm. Every step carries her farther away instead of closer.
Sabrina grows smaller.

The candles go out one by one.

"I waited," Sabrina whispers and then the mists close between them.
Mira screams her name.

Only Bardon's old lute answers, playing by itself somewhere deep within the fog—a melody she has never written, but somehow knows is the song of a life that almost was.

She wakes with tears on her face before dawn.

For a long time she cannot move. Sabrina sleeps peacefully beside her, one hand resting against Mira's arm as though afraid she might drift away in the night.

Mira very carefully takes that hand in both of hers and she presses it to her lips.

And for the first time since she arrived in Ravenloft, she wonders if every road she has ever walked has led her here only so that the Mists would finally have something precious enough to take from her.

She slips back into the world of dreams once more, wondering for some time if Sabrina is as afflicted as her with them.

----------

Mira rises slowly, she reaches out, finding the head of blonde hair sleeping soundly against her chest she breathes a sigh of relief..

"Dreams again?" The blonde asks, hand to her mouth as she yawns.

"Dreams again. You said I always leave, then people haunted me, Aiden, Harl.." she shudders at his name. "Leems.."

Sabrina says nothing, instead she squeezes. Mira tightly..

"I will come back, once I know if this Dr can help us get home, I will be coming back and we can decide where home is."

"I know." Sabrina whispers, "We should dress, you need some food and then you need to decide what you are taking. I'll look after everything else." Her lips brush the Redheads and gently she rises to her feet, unashamed as she does so. "You are definitely rubbing off on me." She giggles, watching Mira as she gets ready, before dressing herself.

That done the pair enter the commons hand in hand.

"Good morning all "

Iscind Aranya

Iscind slept contently, a light breeze from the window and the lightness in her head brought a deep rest. The morning light kissed the window and reached beyond the drapes in a bright ray that touched the edge of the bed. Iscind opened one eye and sank deeper into the sheets. A brief doze and then she was ready shuffle her spare frame from the bed sheets. Rising she quickly dressed and pulled a comb through her tangled nest of hair before bounding down the stairs.

"Good morning all!," she calls out, before flicking Esker's ear. "That's for starting breakfast without me," as she sat beside him.

Pyros wakes up kind of unsettled by not being twisted in the sheets choking like he is in the jaws of a wolfman.

"That was oddly restful." He will take a quick glance at his pouches and pack, to see what new things have magically appeared, if he can quickly tell. After doing that for a couple minutes, his stomach starts to rumble.

Cross will wake up, stretch like a cat walking across a safe room.
"Well Master Pyros, what trouble shall we cause today?" While Pyros is rummaging in his pouches, Cross will go down and see if assistance is needed in prepping, then grab a hot cup of coffee, and study his spell book.

Just before the hint of dawn Kybalion wakes. He snaps from the bed and seeing the faintest wisp of light he begins his day with exercise. There is no large anvils or heavy yokes to life so he uses his own body weight. Several sets to keep things flexible and keep his strength going. Eventually the smell of the kitchen permeates the building and he towels off and dons his gear. He begins his move to the dining area and thinks about if he should bring all his gear and such. he mulls it over and decides best prepared than caught with his pants down. He does his best to be a quiet as he can so he doesn't wake the others. Downstairs, he finds Elsa working and he inquires about coffee or hot tea and maybe a whole rasher of bacon and eggs.

Karl found himself riding Bayard through a forest drowned in white mist. The great stallion's hooves rang upon stone instead of earth, each footfall echoing into a silence so complete it seemed the world itself was listening.

Ahead, a church bell rang once.

When he emerged from the trees, a small village lay before him. Smoke curled peacefully from chimneys, children laughed somewhere beyond a fence, and a woman swept her doorstep without ever looking up. For a fleeting moment, Karl felt hope.
Then the bell rang again.

The village was burning.

Flames raced across the rooftops, and terrified screams rose from every direction. Karl spurred Bayard into a gallop, throwing himself at the nearest cottage. He battered the door open and rushed inside.

It was empty.

Another cry echoed behind him. He ran to the next house.
Empty again.

Every scream came from somewhere else. Every life slipped beyond his reach.

At the end of the street stood Harrison. His young squire smiled exactly as Karl remembered him.

"Sir." Karl hurried forward, but the smile faded as fire spread silently across the boy's body.

"You were too late." The words echoed through the smoke.

Shapes emerged behind Harrison. Harren. Derly. Villagers Karl had failed to save. They said nothing. They simply watched him, their silence heavier than any accusation.

Karl wanted to tell them he had done everything he couldm but the words would not come.

The mist rolled between them, swallowing the dead until only a single mounted knight remained. His polished armour reflected nothing, and upon his shield was the griffin of House Sularia.

The stranger drew Lunter. Karl reached for his own sword but his scabbard was empty.

"When every choice ends in death," the knight asked, his voice sounding strangely like Karl's own, "which vow did you break?"
Karl searched for an answer.

He woke before he found one.

His hand rested upon Lunter's hilt, his breathing slow but unsteady. Outside, somewhere in the darkness, a raven called once.

Karl quietly spoke the words of the Oath into the silence, hoping that, somewhere beyond the Mists, they still meant what they once had.

------

Cursing the dreams that haunted all that dared enter this place the Knight rose unsteady at first. Forcing himself to rise, the words of the Oath still on his lips as he collects his meagre possessions.

"No, this will not do." Told himself, removing the tiny smudge that sat on the otherwise perfect breastplate. That done he dresses, later he would attach the plates of his armour.

With a deep breath he strides down the stairs, entering the common room after the others had arrived. With a nod he finds a seat near Mira.

The common is warm from a low fire, a tidily travel pack with mace and shield propped to one side. Elsa bustles about, humming a lighthearted tune as she sets out platters of food. Bacon, eggs, spiced sausages, fluffy biscuits and small jars of jams and honey are places out buffet style. Coffee, Tea and pitchers of cool milk and of water standing beside. The bartender sits at one of the tables, obviously weary but less haggard than the day before.

One by one the group wakes and makes their way downstairs to break the morning fast.

Pyros proceeds to stuff his face with more food than should physically fit in this stomach.

He then rests his hands on his belly, and sips some coffee.
(Do you have a dump list for his pouches still?)

Sabrina extracts herself from Mira and moves to Help Elsa, "Thank you." She whispers to the Hafling in Elven, well thats the general gist of what she was trying to say.

She then approaches the barman, "Lukas." She smiles, "It's like this, I'm staying. Mira is covering my Room till she gets back. I'm going to help you." She gives her best smile, "You know I can cook, have you not been to more than one meal here. But, don't tell Tarren."

"Deal?" She offers her hand.

"They are leaving?" He asks his hand motioning to the group. "Bad for business. All that I nearly died." His head barely looks up at the Pretty Blonde. "She cooked, she cleaned.."

"I'll do it, I might even ask Emily to help me. You don't need to pay me, but I eat for free. I might even play.." Glancing at Mira she blushes.

"Fine. At least till.Erris returns." Lukas answers.. muttering something about getting a pretty girl as a waitress and well.. he glances at Mira.

"Deal." Taking his hand she skips back to Mira.

"After the murder outside and the creature coming here... I doubt we'll have any patrons for weeks, so there may not be much to do. And I'm pretty sure the other serving girls are never coming back." He says hollowly as Sabrina departs, she ignores him with a careful smile.

Jerry and Merrick descend as well, packs ready for the jpurney. After the morning meal is done, and all are sated, Elsa helps gather up the plates and platters to the kitchen. She returns and gathers her own pack. Well, I suppose it's just for us to decide which bridge we want to take out of town. There is no toll leaving, so I suppose it doesn't matter too much. There is a very large nice bridge just north of the main square, or the one that leads to the Meekulburn fields.

After eating the first and maybe only meal of the day, Kybalion rises and takes his dishes to the kitchen and thanks the staff for such a fine meal. He then readies himself for the road and awaits the others to begin to journey hopefully to home.

Esker Manyblades

Esker grins at the ear flick, "Well if you hadn't slept in like a lazy teen lad, I'd wouldn't have started without you Iscind. You've slept half the morning away. We need to gather our things and get on the road."

[Ok, moving this along.]

Once the party has eaten and packed for travel, Sir Karl retrieves Bayard from the stable and the group sets off towards Gundarak. Moving through the town square they make their way to the river, the mildness of the morning and the waft of bloom on the air whispers hints of spring finally come.

Two rock islands stand like defiant martyrs against the onslaught of the rushing waters. The rapid current of the water has worn away any sharp
edges that might have existed on the islands in the past, leaving them fairly featureless. Although they are only a few hundred feet apart, each island serves as the anchor point for a bridge that runs from the city to the Old Kartakan Road.

The Eastern island, which the party approaches, has a garrisoned wall with two small towers across it. The bridge that runs across the river at this point is a mighty stone affair with proud arches and ornate engravings. An elaborate portcullis stands open to allow travelers passage through the great stone wall. On the other hand, the Lower Island has only a small, sturdy rock building on it. Two lesser stone structures that are obviously winch houses, stand by the drawbridges that leave the island.

To one side a small but finely appointed harbor borders the river. A marvelous ebony hulled river boat rocks slowly in the water here. Secured to a private wharf with a stout rope, this craft sports a brilliant red canopy to shade the deck and the sails are down. Every inch of the craft is
a masterpiece of artistic design. Although there are a number of other fine ships docked here, none of them compares to this excellent vessel. The entire area is walled off with a wooden fence. The wood, although clearly old, is well maintained and shows signs of constant upkeep. A single gate, clearly designed more for privacy than to ward off attackers, stands closed with a sturdy lock on it. A small guard shack stands next to the gate with an engraved sign reading "Private docks, keep off displayed for all to see.

At this hour only a few farmers and herders are entering Skald, presumably to sell goods. Each is stopped by the guards and pays a small fee as they cross. Few others leave northward out of town, passing freely and with no payment. The guards make no move to bar or interrupt the group as they leave town.

North of the river the well-traveled road winds and turns through gently rolling wooded hills. All around the stirrings and suggestions of spring have begun to peek their way from long-dormant. The treeline wanders along either side of the road, now near, now far, opening for a span to pastureland or fields of newly sprouting crops or small glades grasses just starting to green from winter's grip. Spirits are as light as the soft breeze that blows down out of the valley ahead. Only the friendliest of cotton-white clouds drifts in the largely clear blue sky overhead. The sweet scent of early wildflowers that dot the valley floor hang in welcome greeting to weary travelers.

An hour or so past midday the road presents a wooden footbridge over a slender brook that trickles merrily along its way. Several of the group notice that the thickets of silver Aspen trees behind are gradually giving way to pine and spruce.


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Can I get a rough marching order for the group? Pyros and Elsa will have to be together on the horse Bayard, but that can be anywhere in the lineup.

Will the party stop to take midday meal or eat on the go?

I forget, who was carrying the Crown? I think I last noted Sir Karl having it