RECAP: Dramatis Personae
Ranak, Daznit, Kuzome, Benri. All dwarves who lived a good life before being kidnapped by kobolds and worked to half-death. After losing many allies, they escaped the dragons cave. It seems, however, that fate had more in store for them.
The dwarves depart from Madam Eva’s camp as soon as their meeting is over. Their heads are swarming with foreboding mystery. With little solid information to hang on to, they decide a good nights rest will do them some good. The nearest village, Vallaki, is back up the road, down the other end of a fork in the road.
Vallaki is made of rotted wood that houses rotten people. The dwarves get hard stares as they enter. Is it that newcomers are rare in this land, or unwelcome? The dwarves wonder if they too will be turned into greying withered folk like the denizens of this poor village.
Priorities - somewhere to sleep, somewhere to resupply, and somewhere to find answers. Ranak and Kuzome head to The Blue Water Inn to exchange some of their wealth for warm beds. Benri heads to the meager market to stock up on rations for the days ahead. Daznit heads to a temple to get some hints. Madam Eva’s words echo in his head.
The Monk tells us the answer lies behind the sun in the house of a saint.
The priest is wise, but distracted. His ears prick up at the sound of the word saint.
“You must be here to help with the bones! Morninglord be praised. The bones of Saint Andral have been stolen!”
Daznit protests. He asks of amber doors, and any treasure that may be held within, but the priest cannot provide any answers. Daznit studies the priest. A pitiable man, clinging onto hope in this forgotten land. It swells something in Daznits heart. He agrees to help find the bones. Their only lead: the gravedigger boy, he’s the only one that knew about the bones before they went missing.
Ranak and Kuzome contemplate their situation. They lost a lot of allies in the kobold caves, and Barovia makes those caves feel inviting. They approach some strangers in green cloaks.
“We’re guides. We can take you along the road to Krezk, for a fee.”
Kuzome promises them more gold for extra services. The mens eyes sparkle, their hoods disguising sneers. They overcharge, but the group has gold. Dragons gold. More gold than they know what to do with. The smell of riches lures more people. Mere peasants, but numbers hold an advantage, no matter their quality.
Benri and Daznit return to the tavern from their expeditions in time to negotiate business. Its some days to Krezk, and it seems like Vallaki holds little of interest. Krezk is bigger, and may hold answers.
But Daznit has a mission tonight.
The hunters are paid, but the dwarves will be escorted tomorrow. Daznit leads the group across town to the graveyard.
The days in Barovia are always grey, but the sun is now low in the sky, giving everything an omnipotent gloom. Churchgoers are huddled in the chapel, hoping that their faith will protect them where the saints bones cannot. The boy is digging a grave.
Daznit approaches, but his attempts to get the boy to confess are met with no success. Kuzome dangles coins in from of the boys face. He stares at them hungrily.
“All right, I sold the bones to a strange man. I dunno why he wanted ’em. Don’t care. I’ve just gotta keep my sister fed.”
A wicked deed, but pure intentions. But in Barovia, only your actions matter.
The group treks across town to the house of the strange collector. Why would such a man want the bones of a saint? True they are worth some coin, but most of their value comes from the sentiments of those that empower them with their faith. What such a villain could hope to do with such an object is beyond the fathon of the group.
The collector is asleep, and his door is locked. With no time to spare in the morning, the group turns to extra-legal means. None are skilled with lockpicks, but they still have their spellbooks from the kobolds cavern.
Daznit turns himself into a living jelly and slips under the door. He peers through each room, eventually coming across the sleeping collectors room. It’s dark and dusty, but the jelly need not worry about the noise of footsteps. The closet is empty, but a living jellies vision can pick out details in the dark that a dwarves cannot.
Underneath the collectors bed, a loose floorboard. Under that board, two sacks. On containing money. The other, bones. The jelly absorbs both into its form and flees the scene.
The dwarves return the bones to the priest. Overjoyed, the priest has more to share.
“Oh thank the morninglord and his heavens! You brave souls have answered my calling. The other saints may surely rest now that Saint Andral is returned and can protect us again.”
The dwarves inquire of the other saints.
“Across the way, in Krezk, lies the abbey of St. Markovia. Perhaps the answers you seek are within?”
The dwarves look at each other. It seems all roads lead to Krezk. The dwarves have a new mission.