Iron & Gold, Curse of Strahd
Chapter 25 Rictavio’s Secret — Chapter 27 A Dinner With Strahd
Being The Curse of Strahd run with PIG’s Iron & Gold, using Mythic as the GM.
Chapter 26 — The Festival of the Sun[1]
Outside the house was lackluster singing and the sound of drums. Both Uthrilir and Felewin stepped over the bound cultist and found a way to move the slats on the shutters so they could peek out.
Under threatening skies, a procession of people were leaving the burgomaster’s house. Unhappy children dressed as flowers led a group of sorry-looking women with bells on.From behind the house came men carrying a wicker effigy with a ball for a head. Lastly, also from a side building (probably the stable) came the Baron and Baroness on horses. Two men came behind them beating drums, keeping roughly the same time.
“What is that?” Uthrilir asked the living cultist.
“You’ll have to loosen the gag,” Felewin reminded him.
Uthrilir untied the gag while Felewin stood with his sword blade touching the man’s neck.[2] As soon as the gag was off, the man spat out the words of a spell (that did nothing), and Felewin pushed a little harder with his sword. A drop of blood appeared and the man stopped speaking.
“Answer,” said Felewin, “and I’m not saying please.”
The man made a strangled sound and Felewin eased off.
“The Baron’s latest inane festival,” said the man.
Felewin nodded. “Right, they told us when we entered the town the first time. Which festival is this?”
“Blazing Sun. We tried to avoid it. She told us that the Feast of St. Andral would mark the end of the Baron’s time, but that all happened yesterday without incident. So Greta and I, we were going to kill the Baronet in a ritual and force a change in government.”
“Greta is…?”
“Over there. You killed her.” Tears came suddenly and he blinked them away.
“In self-defense,” Felewin said mildly. “It was two to one, and she would have killed me.”
Uthrilir said, “What was the plan?”
“Sneak in while the Baron and Baroness were at the Festival, grab the Baronet, do the ritual. But you two showed up.”
Uthrilir pulled over a chair. “What was the ritual?” He looked at the markings on the floor. “Maybe summoning?”
“They’re the same rituals that she uses, and her rituals always work,” the man said sullenly.
“What kind of rituals does your leader do? Summoning?”
Instead of answering, the man said, “The bodies are starting to smell. Usually Lazlo clears them away before I have to smell them, but you killed him.”
Uthrilir shrugged. “It’s death. Especially bad if you puncture the bowels.”
“I’d show you,” said Felewin, “but we have to sit here too. Tell us about the rituals she does.”
The man sighed. “Fine. She asks the princes of darkness to give us things, and when we are done the ritual, there are electrum pieces for us to pick up. Not everyone gets one every time, but you attend enough rituals, you’ll get one.”
Uthrilir asked, “Do you have your eyes closed during this ritual?”
“No,” the man said. “Of course not. It wouldn’t work then. No, we’re all staring at the focus inscription. But I can hear the coins falling on the floor.”
Uthrilir nodded his head. “Of course. I spend too much time with doubters.” Felewin could tell that Uthrilir was lying.
“Where are these people going?” Felewin asked.
“Town square. That’s where all these ‘festivals’ are.” He paused for a moment. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Before Felewin could speak, Uthrilir said, “Not while you’re still useful to us.”
Felewin digested this, and then said to the man, “While I agree the Baron’s ideas are…eccentric, I notice that you practice human sacrifice, which doesn’t make you a great replacement.”
“We do what needs to be done!”
“Look, you— Oh, give me a name. I don’t care if it’s your real name, I just need something to call you.”
The man seemed surprised. “Uh…Tural.”
“What do you do, Tural?”
“I’m a barber. But my great great grandfather was a noble!”
Felewin nodded. “You stopped being nobles when the Baron’s family came to power?”
Tural said suspiciously, “Yes.”
“So your group is disgruntled people with noble ancestry or who think they have noble ancestry. Nobles and pretend-nobles have been plotting to take thrones for generations. Fine. Don’t have a beef with that. But,” and Felewin squatted beside Tural. “You tried to kill us and we don’t take kindly to that.”
Felewin took hold of Tural’s head and turned it back and forth, checking the man’s neck. No vampire bites. “I dislike killing because we don’t know what the power structure is; kill a bad leader and someone worse takes the place. But one barber more or less won’t make a difference to us.” Felewin smiled and patted Tural on the cheek. The bound man was shaking.
“You’ll kill me anyway.”
Uthrilir said, “Maybe something happens, you can escape and live. The gods work in mysterious ways.”
Felewin stood back up. Tural tried to spit but he had no saliva.
Uthrilir said to Tural, “If you’re already dead, you’ll never escape to tell her.”
They heard the sound of rain on the roof, with the threatened deluge. It went on for a little bit and then stopped.
Felewin said, “You know, we might be able to get to the Pass more quickly if we had horses.”
“You’re the only one who can ride,” pointed out Uthrilir. “It’s not the kind of place where you want to ride alone, even if you’re galloping.”
“True; and I wouldn’t gallop all the way; that would kill the horse.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Uthrilir. “My people are not horse-riders. Anyway, with all that festival nonsense, Hrelgi might have been forced to go with them.”
“I didn’t see her,” said Felewin. “But I didn’t see the whole procession.”
“Exactly,” said Uthrilir. “We wait until the parade has gone, and then go to the”—he glanced at Tural—“the other meeting place.”
#
Hrelgi was back in twenty minutes.[3] “Couldn’t find Dmitri,” she explained. “Gave the gown to Anna, who was cooking for Ilya (he looks good) and came back here. Do you want to go back to where I left Uthrilir and Felewin?”
“You and Rictavio go. I’ll wait here in case they show up.”
Hrelgi nodded, and cast the spell.[4] She and Rictavio stepped through the rend in space and quickly checked for witnesses; there were none.[5] There were sounds from maybe a block a way as the procession made its way through the town.
Rictavio asked, “Where now? I’m here to help only if you can’t find your friends.”
“Let’s look in the house here; that’s the closest place to hide.”
Rictavio said, “This door has been forced.”
They stepped through the door, carefully closing it behind them. Once inside, they could hear Felewin and Uthrilir talking in another room; lights were lit, and there were dead bodies on the floor. Hrelgi didn’t know any of the dead people, so she figured everything was fine.
“Hey,” she said.
Uthrilir said, “Hrelgi! Did it go well?”
“It did. The gown is with Anna.”
“Excellent. Then….” Rictavio stepped over the corpses into the room. “Oh, crap. The half-elf is with us?”
“He’ll help, a bit.”
Uthrilir sighed. “Now we have to kill him.”
“Rictavio?”
“No.” Uthrilir gestured to the bound man on the floor. “This guy.”
Felewin said, “I don’t care that he knows about us; we’re already on Strahd’s list.”
“You are?” Rictavio asked.
“Invited to dinner. I can’t imagine that’s a good thing,” Felewin said.
“It is not,” Rictavio agreed.
“But now Tural knows that you have at least helped us. Sorry, Tural.”
Tural saw his chance at survival slipping away. “I can get you out of the town!”
“Getting out of town is easy. There’s a festival going on.”
“I won’t tell,” Tural insisted.
“Of course you will,” Felewin said. “I want to believe the best in people, but you’ve given me no reason.”
“I won’t even tell her.”
“Who’s her?” Rictavio asked.
“Cult leader. Organizing a rebellion against the Baron.”
Rictavio nodded. “Lady Wachter.”
Tural said, “You know about the…the group?”
“Anybody who’s anybody knows, my dear boy. I was hoping to get an invitation,” said the half-elf mildly.
“I wouldn’t,” said Felewin. “They’re willing to practice human sacrifice.”
“That does make it less appealing,” agreed Rictavio.
“The human sacrifice was our idea!” Tural said. “Not hers. We figured the human life would give more power to the ritual! She doesn’t practice human sacrifice!”
“Lady Wachter is a known associate and ally of Lord Strahd,” said Rictavio. “A vampire who feeds off the blood of the living.””
“You didn’t think she’d object,” said Uthrilir.
Tural said nothing.
“I don’t see a way around it,” Felewin said. He slipped the gag back on Tural. “We’ll have to kill him.”
Tural flinched away from him.
“If I may?” Rictavio said. He drew a small journal from his pouch and flipped pages. Then he spoke the spell[6], finishing with these words to Tural. “You feel crippling fear any time you try to remember the events from this time in this building. You don’t want to think about this time at all; if possible, you will never think of this time. You suspect that you killed your friends, but you are not sure.”
Tural nodded and then recoiled, his face a mask of fear.
Rictavio turned to the others. “Will that do?”
Felewin nodded. “Thank you." Then he said, “I am sure you do not need advice, but I would leave this town for a while.”
Rictavio bowed low. “I have a place.”
Chapter 25 Rictavio’s Secret — Chapter 27 A Dinner With Strahd
Game Mechanics
[1] Mythic suggested theme: Inquire Attention (NPC Positive)
[2] Cultist rolls a 7; too bad he’s got only ≤6 on the F. Motus spell.
[3] Hrelgi is not going to roll for this; she can keep trying, and if she fails the Reasoning+Composure roll, she waits and casts heal on herself. I could roll for a random encounter at the one spot where she’ll stop. Okay: Rolled for Luna River Crossroads and Raven River crossroads, and 7 and 11 — nothing.
[4] Hrelgi rolls a 5 and casts the spell; she rolls a 4 to make the Reasoning+Composure roll. Mythic: does she arrive after he others have left? CF 8, 50/50, 85% chance of yes: 94, no, she doesn’t. So they’re still in the house when she arrives.
[5] Possible witnesses are at the Festival.
[6] Rictavio rolls 6 on his ≤8 Fabrica Mentus spell, and another 6 on his ≤7 Difficulty -2 Reasoning+Composure.
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