Iron & Gold, Curse of Strahd
Chapter 26 Festival of the Sun — Chapter 28 Hunted
Being an actual play of Curse of Strahd, using Precis Intermedia Games’ Iron & Gold, with Mythic as the GM.
Chapter 27 A Dinner With Strahd[1]
They left the Strahd tome with Rictavio, but kept copies of all the text that they could read. Hrelgi assured them that Rictavio could make good use of it; Ninefingers agreed, but neither of them would reveal who Rictavio actually was.
“Do we take the other thing, the holy symbol?” Ninefingers asked.
“Strahd promised not to hurt us,” Uthrilir said.
“Yes, but he can probably sense it,” insisted Ninefingers.
“He’ll keep his word,” said Felewin. “I know the type.”
“I know the type, too,” said Ninefingers, “and some of them find a pretext so that we will break the pact and he has justification for jumping us.”
“In which case, the symbol will be useful. Presumably it has some power against vampires.” Felewin took his hair out of the queue again. “I hate these queues; I always had to have Father’s aide do it.”
“Don’t do it, then,” said Hrelgi.
“We give no excuses. I will be as presentable as I can be.”
Ninefingers had made sure his owl-feather earrings were in, and was buffing his hauberk.
Hrelgi had found flowers somewhere and weaved a wreath. Uthrilir had formally arranged his beard and was buffing scales of armor.
Davian had allowed them to wash their tunics, and Hrelgi had heated a section of stone floor to dry them.
Ninefingers asked, “Hrelgi? Where are you going to take us after the dinner? I ask because Strahd has guaranteed our safety until we leave but there’s nothing preventing him from having wolves and bats and skeletons attack us once we’re out of the castle gates.”
Hrelgi said, “I have a place in mind. I’m not going to say it out loud because he clearly has spies throughout the land.”
Felewin tied off the string. “There.” He nodded as he turned to face them. “Yes. Strahd knew where we were, and knew about Davian’s gems. The ravens might have been following us, but I’ll bet that Strahd has spies everywhere, man and beast.”
“He is the land,” quoted Uthrilir. “I think that usually he relies on physical spies — this wolf, that bat, a person when we’re in a town — but I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to sense more if he exerts himself.” He stopped polishing the metal on his byrnie, finally pleased with the result.
“True,” said Ninefingers. “So we must assume that he will know when we try for the other thing.”
“I think there’s only one thing to do. Get Kasimir’s help,” said Felewin.
“If we live through the dinner,” said Ninefingers gloomily.
Felewin clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll live through dinner. It’s after that we might die.”
#
The invitation contained instructions to travel to a particular spot on the Old Svalich road; it took Hrelgi three rends to get there, and they still walked the last bit. The night air was cool, like a fine autumn night. Somewhere, an owl hooted.
“It’s rather nice when someone’s not trying to kill you,” Felewin said.
“You’re putting a lot of trust in him,” said Ninefingers.
“Strahd will not kill us on this visit. Well... I suppose he might try to provoke us into rash actions so he can try, but we will not be provoked. Understand?”
Everyone agreed.
“Good,” said Felewin. “I suspect the black carriage yonder is the one he sent.”
“There’s no driver,” said Ninefingers.
“Magic,” said Felewin.
Hrelgi said, “I keep telling you that there are rules; you can’t just do anything with magic.”
“Can you create a carriage that travels unguided to a known location?”
She was quiet and finally said, “…Yes.”
Felewin shrugged. “Magic.”
The carriage had two black horses standing outside; they snorted puffs of steam into the cold night air. A door on the side of the carriage opened by itself.
“Do we get in?” Ninefingers asked.
“Don’t see why not,” said Felewin. “Go ahead; I want to check something.” No one moved while he walked to the front of the carriage to look at the horses. Without touching them, he shone a lantern on their hooves, waiting for one to move its feet. He finally said, “Shoed. Real horses, though maybe magically augmented. This means he deals with a blacksmith, either in the castle or the village of Barovia.”
“And this is important why?” Uthrilir asked.
“Might not be. But someone shoes the horses and cleans the castle, and that’s probably people from the village. There’s traffic between the two. We didn’t spend time in the village. There might be a source of information there. Shall we get in the carriage?”
Hrelgi asked, “Do you think it’s safe to travel by carriage?”
“Safer than walking. He has promised that no harm will come to us on the road to his castle.” Felewin smiled. “As I say, after we leave, he’ll try to kill us, sure.”
“You sound very casual about it,” said Hrelgi.
“Do I? Must have picked it up from Ninefingers,” Felewin said, hoisting the goblin into the carriage. The goblin stuck his tongue out at Felewin. Felewin continued, “It looks very nice inside. The carriage, I mean.”[2]
“Do you smell that?” Ninefingers asked. “Perfume and body odour. The carriage has been used recently.”
“Do you think there will be other guests?”
Felewin shrugged. “Someone wore perfume.”
Ninefingers said thoughtfully, “If he offers to let us spend the night, I think we should do it.”
“You think that?” Felewin asked.
“I do. If we don’t violate the bargain of good behaviour, it’s an opportunity to look around. We’ll have to go back in at some point.”
“I think that if he offers to let us go home through the mists, we should take that,” Hrelgi said.
Felewin started to speak, but Ninefingers interrupted. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Why shouldn’t he want to be rid of us? We’ve caused him nothing but trouble, and apparently he’s the guy who can send us away. I think Uthie should give him the cursed relic — we’re still thinking that’s what he wants, right? — give it to him, it’s trapped here with him, and we go.”
“That’s not the vow I took,” said Uthrilir. “And I have to die to give up the relic.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” she told him. “The cleric who gave his relic to the mechanical did not die.”
“Not the first time you’ve said that, not the first time I’ve refused,” said Uthrilir.
They sat in silence for a moment; the satin and leather of the carriage muffled many of the sounds of the road, though the ride was still rough. Finally Felewin said, “I hope there’s pork. I rather like pork, and we only got it when someone killed a boar or when visiting someone who raised pigs.”
Ninefingers moaned and rolled his eyes.
“Eat hearty,” Felewin told him. “Don’t ruin yourself, but eat well. He’ll put out the best spread he can.”
“We’re going to end up eating people,” said Ninefingers.
#
The road wound through forest and craggy mountains, and the carriage climbed, and climbed, and kept climbing. Uthrilir judged they had climbed hundreds of feet, and before that, they had climbed to get out of the river by the village of Barovia.
Finally the road turned east, exposing the vastness of Castle Ravenloft: it loomed over them as a dark shadow with warm light inside, beyond a portcullis. The carriage moved forward, until it was between two broken and aged turrets of stone. Ahead of them was a wooden drawbridge that extended over a deep gorge; it ended with a portcullis. Beyond that was the torchlight.
The carriage moved forward. Felewin looked out the window; they couldn’t see the drawbridge they were crossing, but could hear the chains rattling. “Wouldn’t want to cross this bridge at night.”
“Aye,” said Uthrilir.
“I could do it,” said Hrelgi.
“I think any of us could,” said Ninefingers, “but I doubt any of us would want to.”
“Well, can’t argue with that,” said Hrelgi.
The carriage slowly rolled through the portcullis into a courtyard, lit by a dozen torches and an equal number of lanterns. The sky opened up, pouring rain, causing the torches to flicker and dim. The carriage came to a stop, and the doors opened. All four of the party flipped up their hoods; Hrelgi and Ninefingers were on that side, so they were the first to disembark.
There were probably windows on the higher floors but there were no lights; light was confined to the ground floor.
The roofs of the castle were designed so that the water already sluicing off the building was aimed to either side of the entryway, and once outside the doors, visitors were….not dry, but not drenched. There the elf and goblin waited for the other two, unwilling to enter the castle without everyone.
The ornate doors of the castle were open to a hall; a dozen paces inside were a second set of doors.
Lanterns hung on either side of this second set of doors.
Felewin and Uthrilir came out, Felewin slower and more stately than Uthrilir. This was a side of Felewin that none of them had seen. He grinned when he got to them. “Third son, but still nobility. My father was quite particular. Never run on a state occasion.” He composed his expression to pleasant neutrality, and indicated to the others that they should enter first.
They did, in single file.
The foyer was vaulted and tall; overhead, four statues of dragons gazed down at them, eyes glittering in the lamplight.
“Statues?” Ninefingers asked.
Hrelgi checked the magic around them[3] with a muttered incantation. “Like gargoyles. They’re statues unless you trigger them.”
“Let’s not trigger them,” Uthrilir said.
Six paces from the inner doors, the doors swung open magically, revealing the great hall and letting them hear the sounds of organ music. Four huge columns flanked the room, lit by torches in sconces, unlike the lanterns in the areas with weather. A giant staircase rose to the left; straight ahead were bronze double doors; to the right was an open space. Up above, Ninefingers could see ill-tended frescoes of battle, and a pair of gargoyles flanking the top of each column.
“Eight gargoyles above; don’t bother to check because I’m just going to assume they can attack,” murmured Ninefingers.
“I’d rather know who he is,” muttered Uthrilir. An elf with brown skin and black hair was descending silently down the stairs. He wore a gray cloak but armor underneath, and there was the shine of a scimitar hilt when he drew back his cloak to clap twice. The doors closed.
The elf came up to the group. “The last to arrive,” he said. “In here, please.”
“And your name, sir?” Hrelgi asked.
“I am Rahadin, the chamberlain. Please follow me.” Rahadin headed to the right-hand section of the hall, to the section that Ninefingers hadn’t yet looked at. A smaller set of double doors was there; Rahadin opened one of the doors to reveal a dining hall, lit by torches. At the far end was the organ, which was there source of the organ music; Strahd was playing.
There were two others in the room: Ismark, dressed in Barovian finery, and a middle-aged woman with sharp features, an imperious posture, and elegant clothes.
Ismark looked up at them and smiled, and then then looked quizzical when he saw that Ireena was not with them.
The woman looked at all of them and decided that Felewin, in his current pose, was probably high status and worth caring about. Felewin nodded formally to both of them, and then stood, waiting for the music to end so that he could greet Strahd.
The figure at the organ turned out to be an illusion; the actual Strahd stepped from beside the organ and waved his hand; both the figure at the organ and the organ music disappeared.
“You are here. I welcome you to Castle Ravenloft. I present to you my two other guests, my two newest burgomasters: Ismark Kolyanovich, whom I think you have met, the burgomaster of the village of Barovia,”—Ismark remembered his manners and inclined his head in greeting—“and Lady Fiona Wachter, the burgomaster of Vallaki.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Felewin. “Let me introduce my party, because Lord Strahd has not formally met them and we have not met Lady Wachter.” He introduced them in the order they had entered. “Uthrilir, a holy knight of the Maiden Dilir; Hrelgi of Căled, our mistress of magic; my aide, who goes by the name Ninefingers. I am Felewin Theostrand Karantod; you would translate my title as ‘Prince.’ We find ourselves in this land quite recently…less than a moon, certainly.” His accent was more pronounced in this speech; it was not his usual way of talking.
“A week,” murmured Ninefingers.
“A week? Then a week.” Felewin smiled. Ninefingers was obliquely fascinated. This indeed was a side of Felewin he hadn’t seen before.
Strahd smiled without mirth and sat at the head of the table. Ismark and Lady Wachter sat on either side of the table, while Felewin’s group waited for his response. He nodded to them and they chose to sit after he did. “You will have to forgive me,” Felewin said. “Mine are a nomadic people, and our dinner settings are less…elaborate. I shall do my best to use the correct utensils and plates, but I mean no disrespect if I make an error.”
Strahd said smoothly, “I shall take no offense.”
Felewin thought, Eliminated that chance of pact breaking.
Lady Wachter sniffed.
Ismark looked puzzled but erased the concern from his face.
“I had thought it was just us four visiting for dinner. I am thrilled to see others, however. New burgomasters? I had understood that a Baron was already burgomaster of Vallaki, so I presume your elevation in status is recent, Lady Wachter.”
“My town is in flames,” she said. “The Baron was killed by the people, at one of his asinine festivals.”
The other three looked concerned; Ismark looked shocked. This was apparently news to him.
“He was married and had a child, did he not?”
“They will be dealt with,” Lady Wachter said.
“Of course,” said Felewin. “One must cement the new allegiances and eliminate the old? Does a new broom sweep clean, or do you mean to step in to help the Baron’s family in this time of terrible tragedy and gain recognition for your humane instincts?”
She paused before answering.
“I would guess the latter,” interjected Uthrilir. “After all, you have already reaped benefits from your book club.”
“I— How do you know about that?”
“I merely listened. We were briefly in Vallaki on our way to the winery, to deal with the interruption in service. I heard someone mention your book club in most approving terms.”
“Of course,” said Lady Wachter. “Of course, one uses the carrot instead of the stick, if there is a choice.”
“Of course,” agreed Felewin. “But I speak too much; our host must take precedence here.”
Strahd raised his eyebrows. “How kind of you to give me permission to do what I would anyway.” A female servant moved behind them, filling their wine goblets. Ninefingers noticed the coldness of her arm as she reached by him to fill his goblet. Strahd was given a deep red drink from a different container.
Another female servant, also surprisingly cold, placed dishes before them. Ninefingers recognized it as a kind of reddish soup with chunks of meat and vegetables in it.
“Please, eat; I shall dine later.” Strahd smiled. “Tell me, Felewin, if you are a prince, why are you here? Not Barovia specifically, but the peripatetic lifestyle of an adventurer?”
Felewin smiled disarmingly. “I am a prince but I am a third son. My eldest brother is due to inherit the title. My other brother is well prepared in case he cannot inherit. Traditionally in our people, the third son goes into the military. Traveling and doing these things helps grant me experience for when I help in my country’s military.”
“Does a nomadic people have a great need for a military?” Lady Wachter asked.
“Yes. There is always a need for a military, formal or informal. Lord Strahd would know this.”
“Some forces are best used informally, such as the Vistani. Yes, I know this; I was a great conqueror,” said Strahd. “I took this land by force, some hundreds of years ago.” He paused, looking around the table. Uthrilir opened his mouth but thought better of it.
“They were a proud people, the Valgother, and so I knew that I needed to crush them.”
“To prevent reprisals and uprisings?” Felewin asked.
“Very good. Yes. We took their capital, but the king and a sizable chunk of his army retreated to this land, the land that I later called Barovia, in honour of my father, King Barov. They faced us near the Tsolenka Pass; I suspect there are still bodies and armour on the mountainside, for it is cold and remote; things do not rust and fade away quickly there, unless they are carried by spring melt into the Luna River.” He smiled. “They were very good, and made few mistakes, but I was better and made no mistakes.”
Lady Wachter said, “To Lord Strahd!” and raised her glass in a toast. The others accepted half-heartedly.
“Thank you,” said Strahd. “I called in wizards and architects and stone masons and commanded them to build me this castle, which I have named Ravenloft, for it was to be a place for my mother, Queen Ravenovia. When it was completed, I sent for her and my brother, but alas, she did not arrive alive.” He said gently, “There is a fine tomb for them. Even after her death, I continue to show her my love for her.” He bent his head for a moment, casting his face in shadow.
“Enough about me. Hrelgi, you are lovely, in the way of the elves. How did you come to be with this group? Tell the truth, now, all of you.”
Hrelgi smiled. “I was born with magic, and left home to learn more about it and control it. On my journeys, I came into contact with Uthrilir, here, and we found each other good company. Later, in our quests, we happened upon Felewin and Ninefingers. Originally, it was simply that their paths coincided with ours, but we have found common goals in the short term.”
“‘In the short term’? Do you expect that to change?”
Hrelgi looked at him with sadness. “Lord Strahd, you of all people here should know that all humans and goblins and dwarves pass away, that elves outlive them all.”
“Unless they don’t,” replied Strahd.
“All that which is not dead can die.”
“That sounds theological,” said Strahd. “Uthrilir, do you agree?”
The dwarf paused for a moment to allow the servant — clearly a vampire of some stripe — to take away his plate. Another woman replaced it. “I cannot speak for the Powers Above and the Powers Below, but they have in my knowledge provided a way for every thing to perish, whether that way is time or violence.”
“But the powers above and below allow some to go on without dying.”
Uthrilir shrugged. “As I mentioned, I cannot speak for them. But I will humbly suggest that they work with spans of time that are unimaginable to me, or to elves, or the undead. What we think of as long life or existence might be a burden to those not made for it.”
“There’s a song cycle about that — The Tragedies of Jungen,” said Hrelgi.
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” said Strahd.
“Maybe it became popular after your time,” Hrelgi said.
“And what do you mean by that?” Strahd said.
Hrelgi looked puzzled by his question. “The mists around Barovia showed up over four hundred years ago, and the song cycle is only a century or two old; the likelihood that someone came in knowing the songs is small. How many people have come into Barovia in the last hundred years? Fifty? A hundred?”
Ismark said, “At midnight, the ghosts of all foreigners who have died in Barovia march from the graveyard in our village to…somewhere. Father took us to see it once, when I was young; the line was so long that I had to sleep. It is where I have seen dwarves,” he explained to Uthrilir.
Another course came. This one was beef, prepared in a way that Felewin had never seen. “Felewin, I apologize that it is not pork, but the climate is not conducive,” said Strahd.
Felewin was unnerved, but noted that any conversation in the carriage was conveyed to Strahd; it was what he had expected, but it was still unnerving.
“The ghosts march to this castle,” said Strahd. “If this dinner goes late enough, you will see them.”
“Lovely,” muttered Ninefingers.
“And you, young reptile….goblin, rather. Ninefingers, you introduced yourself. Why are you here?”
Ninefingers fully intended to lie, and make himself up a meek and unassuming servant, but found he couldn’t.[4] “I am bound to accompany Felewin. He saved my life, and I owe him mine.”
“I keep releasing you,” Felewin said.
“I’m not bound by your command,” Ninefingers said. “I am bound by the way of my people.”
Strahd looked intrigued. “We have no such custom in Barovia. What are the rules? If I were to save your life, I would receive your fealty instead?”
Ninefingers could not lie, but he chose his words carefully. He said, “The rules are complex because they have been tested over centuries.”
“Of course,” said Strahd. “I am sure that someone saving your life would not receive the same allegiance because Felewin is alive. Still alive,” Strahd amended.
Ninefingers repeated, “The rules are complex.”
“Indeed. You would go home if you could?”
On safer ground, Ninefingers said, “I think we would all return to our homes, if we could.”
“And why do they call you Ninefingers? Is that your proper name?”
“It’s my name in human society. I have it”—and he held up the hand with the smallest finger cut off—“because I was too slow getting away from a trap in a tomb.”
“And that is where you met Felewin?”
“No; that is where I decided to work in the family store. But fate had other plans.”
“Lady Wachter, what do you think of our arrivals?”
From the way she replied, Ninefingers could tell that she had been watching Strahd for cues. “They are interesting and possibly useful additions to our land.”
“Perhaps they might be useful in re-establishing order in Vallaki.”
“Perhaps. But do we need help?”
“Let us see how long the riots last,” said Strahd.
“If it is not too bold, Lady Wachter, what happened?”
“Someone made the mistake of laughing at the Baron during his latest asinine festival. The Baron does not — rather, did not — accept humiliation well, and dragged the man behind his horse as punishment. This was too much for the people, and riots ensued. Apparently then a ferocious beast escaped confinement, people were mauled, and the beast is still at large. With the Baron’s death at the hands of the mob, I felt it was necessary to inform Lord Strahd of events.”
“How terrible,” said Hrelgi.
“Quite,” purred Lady Wachter.
Strahd said, “Ismark, you have now become burgomaster. Your father did an excellent job for me. Do you expect to change things much?”
“I intend to continue as he did, with such changes as become necessary,” said Ismark. “This is not a state occasion, so I do not wish to bring up details, but I notice that some things are changing under our feet, and our small village should be prepared.”
“Changing how?” Lady Wachter said.
“We are losing children,” said Ismark. “Something is taking the children of the village. If we can determine what it is, we might take action, such as your wall, Lady Wachter. It would be a laborious undertaking, but we should consider something.”
“You want to build a wall?” Lady Wachter sniffed.
“No, Lady Wachter, not unless one is justified. I want to know if one is justified.”
“That sounds prudent,” said Hrelgi.
Ismark flashed her a quick smile.
Strahd said, “Good. I had feared that the sudden disappearance of your sister would ruin your ability to work.”
Ismark[5]’s eyes widened and he took a moment to swallow. Then he said smoothly. “I was not aware she had disappeared. I know she had gone away to grieve. I will send someone to search for her; I know you have an interest in her, my lord Strahd.”
Strahd waved his hand dismissively. “Where she has gone, none may follow and return. But Ismark, eat. You have barely touched your entree.” And Strahd smiled.
“I am not particularly hungry,” said Ismark, and from the look on his face, he immediately hated himself for saying it.
“The meal is most excellent,” Lady Wachter said. “My compliments to the chef.”
Strahd said, “Most meals for the staff are prepared by Cyrus Belview, but though I am assured his collations are most savory, I was lucky enough to find an expert chef for tonight’s meal.”
“I was not aware we had an expert chef outside Vallaki.”
“I was fortunate that one of adventurers who came through had a background in cooking, and he had impressed me with his fighting abilities. So…he was available.”
Ismark looked vaguely nauseated; Lady Wachter looked pleased.
“I do not insist that you eat all of your meal; I know that Ninefingers would be suspicious. That is your nature,” Strahd said magnanimously.
Without meaning, Ninefingers said, “It is an earned thing.”
“If only we had a chance to discuss it in more detail.” He clapped his hands and the servants moved around them and replaced the meals with bowls of fine china; the bowls were filled with bright fruit, topped with a dollop of pale mousse.
“Enjoy,” said Strahd.
Lady Wachter smiled and took a spoonful. Ismark apologized and left his alone.
Hrelgi tried a spoonful of the mousse. “Whipped cream! Uthrilir, I haven’t had whipped cream in ages.”
Uthrilir was praying[6] and then he said, “It is safe to eat.”
“I never doubted it,” said Felewin. “Lord Strahd is a man of his word. This is quite good. Did the fruit have to come from outside?”
“Indeed,” Strahd said. “I allow the Vistani to come and go. They are not import agents, but they will fetch some few things for their master.”
“I thought so. I recognize sunberries, and they are from a warmer clime than Barovia.”
“Beautiful Barovia,” corrected Lady Wachter.
“Parts of it are lovely,” said Felewin mildly.
“The bugs in Berez were terrible,” said Hrelgi, with cream on her upper lip.
“Really?” Strahd said. “Insects have not bothered me for years.”
“You would have learned to ignore them,” observed Felewin.
Strahd nodded. “It was part of battle.”[7]
Felewin smiled. “If one is hit, one gets up again.”
“Unless it is wiser to fight supine.”
Felewin nodded. “Or retreat so that one can attack again. There are levels.”
There was no speaking as the party ate their desserts. Lady Wachter smiled contentedly; Ismark kept glancing between the group and Strahd. Hrelgi reached out to touch his arm in comfort.
The servants cleared away the bowls and brought small goblets.
“Port?” Strahd asked.
“Because I know you obtained it just for me, I will say yes.”
“The deal,” agreed Strahd.
“This prolongs dinner.”
“You are safe until you leave the castle grounds or violate good etiquette. Lady Wachter, Ismark, you are welcome to spend the night. It is not safe to travel Barovia at night.”
“I believe I will go to my room,” said Lady Wachter. She rose and curtsied.
Strahd nodded to one of the servants, who murmured, “This way, please,” and led Lady Wachter from the room.
Ismark said, “I will stay as well. As you say, it is not safe to travel at night.” Strahd nodded again, and a female servant led Ismark out of the room. Strahd was left looking at the adventurers, who looked at each other and then at Strahd.
“I notice the invitation to stay was not extended to us,” Felewin said.
“No,” said Strahd. “I would not let you sleep under my roof. You have been responsible for the removal of Tatyana from my existence: the removal of her soul from the cycle of reincarnation. Because of that, I swear to you that I shall kill you. I shall turn you to my servants, and I shall make you obey me for a dozen centuries, and then make you kill yourselves, or each other. Your deaths and undeath will be painful and extensive.” Strahd smiled. “But do enjoy your port, Felewin. Our deal ends when you leave the castle grounds, when dawn comes or when one of you falls asleep, whichever comes first. And once the deal is over, I will have my vengeance.”
Felewin said, “Then we shan’t keep you from your other pressing matters. We will find our own way out.”
“Out of this room, to the right to the Great Hall, left to the exit. There will be no carriage to carry you across the drawbridge, but the drawbridge will stay down. You are not out of the castle until your cross the bridge.” Strahd stood and strode from the room, leaving the group alone.
Once he was gone, Felewin said, “Hrelgi, check to see if he’s still here. That illusion earlier was too good to believe he has left.”
Hrelgi opened her grimoire and spoke an incantation.[8]
“Someone is here, probably invisible.”
Ezmerelda’s voice came. “It is I, invisible. I have been searching the castle. Do not teleport inside the castle; it will redirect you. Unauthorized teleportation sends you to the dungeon.”
Ninefingers mouthed, “Is it really her?” to Hrelgi, who shrugged.
“Thank you,” said Felewin. “We shall keep that in mind.”
“You believe the voice is Ezmerelda?” whispered Ninefingers.
Felewin did not answer. Instead, he stood, neatly folded his napkin, and said to the others, “Then let’s begin the part where Strahd actively tries to kill us. Shall we go?”
They followed him out of the room, into the Great Hall. “Memorize it,” he said quietly to Ninefingers.
“Already did,” the goblin replied.
They went through the Great Hall, then the foyer. Felewin strode outside the doors and immediately headed to one side instead of heading out.
“Where are you going?” asked Uthrilir.
“I want to see the castle grounds,” Felewin said. “This is the only time we will see it safely.”
Around the side was a wall that connected the castle to the wall of the keep. There was an iron gate set into an archway, but the double doors in the gate were open. Felewin walked briskly through them. Ninefingers and the others followed, though Ninefingers was itching to leave. He kept glancing behind them, then up.
Felewin said conversationally, “Look, this must be where they store the carriage. And over there”—he flashed the lantern—“that looks like a garden or something. Let’s go there.”
Felewin strode over in that direction.
“Won’t that be a violation? Aren’t we fair game?” Hrelgi asked.
“Castle grounds are allowed,” said Felewin. “I don’t plan on sleeping during this brief walk. Do memorize where we are.”
“Of course,” said Hrelgi. “Oh.”
The iron gates squealed as Felewin opened them, but then they were in a sad tangle of a garden. One small corner was well-tended, with herbs growing there. “Someone comes here,” Felewin observed.
Looking up the castle, he observed boarded up windows of a shape that suggested stained glass. Farther back were more iron gates that led out to some kind of overlook. Fearlessly, Felewin opened those gates as well, and they squealed.
“Want some oil on those,” Felewin said. “Perhaps oil is one of the things the Vistani don’t bring through, though a good whetstone needs it.”
Felewin went all the way to the back and looked over the edge. Rain obscured his vision, but he saw a great drop. A flash of lightning illuminated the village of Barovia barely visible far below them below a layer of fog. Felewin played the light of the lantern along the wall. “See anything, Ninefingers or Uthrilir?”[9]
“Some kind of construction down there,” said Ninefingers. “Three windows? Still about sixty paces down, and no idea how one would get there.”
“Hmm,” said Felewin “Well, it’s cold and wet out here. Shall we leave?”
“Gladly,” said Hrelgi. She had marked the part in her grimoire, so she checked it and said the words.[10] A large rend appeared in the air. Felewin stepped through it; then Ninefingers, then Uthrilir. Once she was sure they were clear, Hrelgi stepped through and closed the rend.
Chapter 26 Festival of the Sun — Chapter 28 Hunted
Game Mechanics
