- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
I actually pulled the tarot cards out.
This is fate.
For Shade must hold a Lightsaber wherever he goes.
Lost in a Tabletop Game [5E/SI]
- Thread starter shadenight123
- Start date
I actually pulled the tarot cards out.
This is fate.
For Shade must hold a Lightsaber wherever he goes.
- Location
- Elsewhere
Don't be too hard on yourself.
Maybe the goat is a 10th lvl Rogue!
Sneaking by on his tippy-hooves.
Ravenloft - Chapter Two - Luna River's Shore
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Ravenloft - Chapter Two - Luna River's Shore
I was freezing, and yet I had no fire. I had no supplies. The most I had was a wet mantle and an even wetter set of clothes. Even so, an impromptu fast would not kill me. What truly bothered me wasn't the river, snaking and quietly shimmering in the corner of my vision. It was the mist. The blanketing banks of fog that seemed ever-present, and doing their hardest to make their presence known, and yet also hauntingly quiet.
They observed. They felt. They understood. The fogs were a source of disquiet, a smothering blanket of suffocation, and they were like hungry dogs yapping at the heels of a wounded prey. If they felt weakness, then they would claim it for their own. My vision adjusted to the somber lighting, and even though I was starting to feel positively miserable, I began to hum a soft hymn.
"I will never betray your trust," I mumbled, "Always vigilant, I'll stand. I'll wait and watch with care, fairly and diligently I will obey." I kept on walking, the ground treacherously making me think that it would become more solid the further I went in-land, and yet instead damping up, forming the start of a marsh. "The weak, the poor, the injured and young, I will shield." The bend of the river showed me a brief flicker of hope, in the form of a village's blurred forms.
Yet, the closer I got, the more that hope was dampened by the sight of the ruins of the village, rather than a village proper.
A mansion came into vision first. Or well, the overgrown garden of a mansion. The iron fence meant to keep people out was rusted beyond saving, and even if I didn't dare to hope, I saw the briefest of flickers of light from within. What soured it for me were the noises of goats screams, rising up in the air the closer I got to the garden's borders. My guts twisted at the sight.
A palisade made of wooden pikes and human skulls formed a fence around the goats, no gate apparent. In the garden's tall grass, amidst thorny vines and statues of handsome men and beautiful women, something slithered its way towards me. I felt the platinum hilt strapped to my chest worry, and as I unsheathed my blade I barely parried the incoming projectile of angry green and mottled brown that seemed keen on taking a bite out of me.
A giant snake rolled on the ground past me, sliced in half. "The garden could use some pruning," I muttered in disbelief, the Sunblade feeling pleased about the prospect. Yet to use that blade would mean to make my presence known to pretty much everything else in the marsh, and I was starting to think that perhaps that was not a good idea. The Sunblade cautiously shared my thoughts, but there was a hint of warning in them.
I rolled my eyes as I sidestepped the lunge of a second snake, beheading it as it passed me by. If something truly dangerous came by, I would not hesitate. I was a Paladin of Helm, after all.
I was just about to cross the garden, leaving behind the snakes' remains, when I realized a really sad part of my current situation.
I couldn't let fresh meat go to waste.
I chuckled the next second, my disgust apparently shared by the blade, and yet also the underlying need for it. I grabbed the remains of the snakes, and neared the mansion's entrance. There were piles of stone and rotting timber, broken pieces of furniture and little else. The worst part was that what little was dry wouldn't burn that well, and even if it did, the smoke would give it away.
The chimney was still barely functional, at least in the fact that it was one of the most solid parts of the house, and as I pushed some dry bits and pieces of choice wood into the crevice, letting them rest on broken platters, I removed my helmet and shook my head ever so briefly.
"If only I had something to start the fire with," I muttered. My eyes went to some loose chimney stones. I grabbed two of them hesitantly, and began to rub them together. "This is never going to work," I added.
The temperature took a sharp downward spike, much to my incredible displeasure. The floor's broken bits and pieces of furniture began to rattle incessantly, and as the hair on the back of my head rose, I swiftly pushed my helmet back on.
"Why do you invade my home? Begone, I beseech you!" a voice suddenly wailed, a ghost taking shape in the fog, assuming the form of a giant of a man, his features mutilated and his entrails hanging out like frayed ropes. Despite its presence, there was grief in the creature's eyes.
"I apologize if I have been a rude guest," I muttered, one hand raised towards the ghost, "I did not wish to disturb your rest, weary soul. I am...I am a Paladin of Helm, lost in this place with little provisions but what I managed to hunt, and no way to start a fire," I grimaced.
"Oh sad knight," the ghost gurgled through its misshapen form, "A terrible, terrible fate awaits you, like it awaits all those like you. You would do best leave this cursed place."
"Only once my task is completed," I answered, "If the mists captured my brothers in faith, then it is my duty to come to their aid, and if I am here alone, then how can I leave knowing the evil that has grip upon this place?"
The ghost's face turned sorrowful, "Many have come and tried," he spoke sadly, "But none have prevailed. But let it not be said that Lazlo Ulrich, last burgomaster of Berez, is without compassion for a weary traveler lost in the mists." He tipped his head, and looked with disgust out of a window, "Do not head for the village center; a powerful hag resides there. She made a goat pen of my garden, taking blood from them animals. What for, I dunno, but if you hit the fence the skulls howl and she'll be here in a jiffy, so tread carefully."
I nodded at that. Perhaps hags around these parts fed on goats without children to satisfy their appetites. The hag would need to be dealt with; regardless of the situation at hand, no matter how powerful she would be, she had to be dealt with.
"Perhaps you can find like-minded fellows further north," the ghost continued, "They may be a bit dead, and rotting, but they should help one like you out."
"I understand," I muttered.
I did need some rest, and to pray. The snake meat would end up rotting away, however, or attracting creatures I would rather it did not.
In the end, I came to a grim conclusion.
I would have to survive one day without anything solid in my stomach, with my clothes chilly and my armor cold as ice.
"Helm, thee are the Ever-Vigilant, the Guardian and the Watcher. I am but a guardian sworn to your Oath, and thus I bind myself willingly to the Oath sworn. My prayers are yours, oh Watcher. Grant me strength to withstand the weight of the hurdle I must cross, and give me more if that is what is needed. For I will do my part, regardless. If I break, then I break holding the weight of your expectations upon my shoulders, and no sweeter death can that be," as I finished praying, I felt the warmth within my chest bubble up, stretching to the tip of my fingers as it staved off the cold.
It didn't dry me up, but it was a welcomed thing.
Yet, as I rested there, or at least, attempted to, a light flickered briefly from the other side of the river. Through the fog, I could see it. From the other side of the river, it beckoned and called near six tall stone pillars.
"Must be a Will-o-Wisp," I muttered, shaking my head grimly.
Well, it would not have me.
I'd rest ever so briefly, and then be on my way once more.
Unfortunately, the mists had other plans.
Fear clutched my heart, awakening me from my half-baked attempt at slumber. The sword warned me through fear that something, or someone, was nearing. I could hear the soft trudging of feet on the soil outside, and as I turned slowly my head towards it, a vaguely humanoid form came into view from the edges of the garden, trailing my path.
I quietly knelt, and then slowly got on my feet.
The figure froze.
"I am a Paladin of Helm," I spoke towards it. "And who might you be?"
I did not trust the figure. I did not need to trust the figure. Even the warmth within my chest told me not to trust the figure. Everything I had, every single instinct and gut-feeling told me not to. However, I was a Paladin, and I had a duty. A duty to be a beacon of light and good.
"M-Muriel, noble sir," the voice whispered, crouching even lower if that was even possible. "It is not safe," she added. "The village is not safe by day, and worst by night."
I quietly walked towards the figure, who made visible attempts at telling me to get down. I knelt only lightly, and glanced at the darkening sky.
"Nowhere is safe around these parts," I muttered. "But there is an evil here, and so it is my duty to see it vanquished."
The humanoid figure shook her head. It was a dark color, and the skin was filthy with mud and grime, "Baba Lysaga is an ancient and powerful hag, she comes to feed on the goats nearby and if she saw you, she'd eat you too."
"She is welcomed to try," I answered, "I wouldn't actually mind eating one of those goats myself, if only I had a fire," I muttered further.
"Better you do not, or she would have seen you!" Muriel hissed. "You should leave for now. Head North and take a right at the crossroad, head for Vallaki, it's a safe city!"
I took a deep breath. "No city is safe in Barovia," I muttered. "You should know that." The humanoid figure froze, if briefly. "I will heed your counsel," I continued, "But...may I ask a favor? I was not alone. Others, like me, paladins of Helm, and a cleric too, they were with me when the mists took us. If you see them-tell them I still live."
"I will," Muriel muttered, "Now hurry, you are right that nowhere is safe, but here is worst!" she then began to crawl away, and I slowly followed her until we were far from the village itself, on a dirt road that seemed to head north. Her lantern cast a flickering of light on the path, but without it, the night of Barovia was as pitch-black as it could ever be. "Now you are safe, as safe as one can be," she chuckled grimly. "In Vallaki, go to the inn. Tell the innkeeper Muriel sends you. He'll give you a hand, but now I must go." She stopped briefly before leaving, thinking for a bit, and then thrust her lantern in my hands. "Use this, you'll need the light." Before I could say anything, she began to walk away, and I bowed in her direction, my other hand to my chest in silent thanks.
The road ahead of me would be long and strenuous.
Regardless, I would walk it.
My stomach demanded some warm food in its belly, after all.
The thought made me chuckle.
The brief moment of happiness came less as a fluttering of wings heralded the arrival of a raven atop my shoulder.
I blinked at the creature, which cawed back at me.
"I'll call you Raven," I said. "And you'll be the cutest little thing ever," I continued.
I snickered a bit at an inside joke lost to the flows of time, sighing in disbelief at the situation at hand. The raven seemed pleased enough that I hadn't shooed it away that it remained exactly where it was.
Still, flickering light from a lantern guiding me, if I did not find what little humor I could from these bizarre situations, then I doubted I ever would.
Though my path is long, strenuous and dark, I shall not fear it...
...for Helm's eyes watch over me, and thus it will forever be safe.
I was freezing, and yet I had no fire. I had no supplies. The most I had was a wet mantle and an even wetter set of clothes. Even so, an impromptu fast would not kill me. What truly bothered me wasn't the river, snaking and quietly shimmering in the corner of my vision. It was the mist. The blanketing banks of fog that seemed ever-present, and doing their hardest to make their presence known, and yet also hauntingly quiet.
They observed. They felt. They understood. The fogs were a source of disquiet, a smothering blanket of suffocation, and they were like hungry dogs yapping at the heels of a wounded prey. If they felt weakness, then they would claim it for their own. My vision adjusted to the somber lighting, and even though I was starting to feel positively miserable, I began to hum a soft hymn.
"I will never betray your trust," I mumbled, "Always vigilant, I'll stand. I'll wait and watch with care, fairly and diligently I will obey." I kept on walking, the ground treacherously making me think that it would become more solid the further I went in-land, and yet instead damping up, forming the start of a marsh. "The weak, the poor, the injured and young, I will shield." The bend of the river showed me a brief flicker of hope, in the form of a village's blurred forms.
Yet, the closer I got, the more that hope was dampened by the sight of the ruins of the village, rather than a village proper.
A mansion came into vision first. Or well, the overgrown garden of a mansion. The iron fence meant to keep people out was rusted beyond saving, and even if I didn't dare to hope, I saw the briefest of flickers of light from within. What soured it for me were the noises of goats screams, rising up in the air the closer I got to the garden's borders. My guts twisted at the sight.
A palisade made of wooden pikes and human skulls formed a fence around the goats, no gate apparent. In the garden's tall grass, amidst thorny vines and statues of handsome men and beautiful women, something slithered its way towards me. I felt the platinum hilt strapped to my chest worry, and as I unsheathed my blade I barely parried the incoming projectile of angry green and mottled brown that seemed keen on taking a bite out of me.
A giant snake rolled on the ground past me, sliced in half. "The garden could use some pruning," I muttered in disbelief, the Sunblade feeling pleased about the prospect. Yet to use that blade would mean to make my presence known to pretty much everything else in the marsh, and I was starting to think that perhaps that was not a good idea. The Sunblade cautiously shared my thoughts, but there was a hint of warning in them.
I rolled my eyes as I sidestepped the lunge of a second snake, beheading it as it passed me by. If something truly dangerous came by, I would not hesitate. I was a Paladin of Helm, after all.
I was just about to cross the garden, leaving behind the snakes' remains, when I realized a really sad part of my current situation.
I couldn't let fresh meat go to waste.
I chuckled the next second, my disgust apparently shared by the blade, and yet also the underlying need for it. I grabbed the remains of the snakes, and neared the mansion's entrance. There were piles of stone and rotting timber, broken pieces of furniture and little else. The worst part was that what little was dry wouldn't burn that well, and even if it did, the smoke would give it away.
The chimney was still barely functional, at least in the fact that it was one of the most solid parts of the house, and as I pushed some dry bits and pieces of choice wood into the crevice, letting them rest on broken platters, I removed my helmet and shook my head ever so briefly.
"If only I had something to start the fire with," I muttered. My eyes went to some loose chimney stones. I grabbed two of them hesitantly, and began to rub them together. "This is never going to work," I added.
The temperature took a sharp downward spike, much to my incredible displeasure. The floor's broken bits and pieces of furniture began to rattle incessantly, and as the hair on the back of my head rose, I swiftly pushed my helmet back on.
"Why do you invade my home? Begone, I beseech you!" a voice suddenly wailed, a ghost taking shape in the fog, assuming the form of a giant of a man, his features mutilated and his entrails hanging out like frayed ropes. Despite its presence, there was grief in the creature's eyes.
"I apologize if I have been a rude guest," I muttered, one hand raised towards the ghost, "I did not wish to disturb your rest, weary soul. I am...I am a Paladin of Helm, lost in this place with little provisions but what I managed to hunt, and no way to start a fire," I grimaced.
"Oh sad knight," the ghost gurgled through its misshapen form, "A terrible, terrible fate awaits you, like it awaits all those like you. You would do best leave this cursed place."
"Only once my task is completed," I answered, "If the mists captured my brothers in faith, then it is my duty to come to their aid, and if I am here alone, then how can I leave knowing the evil that has grip upon this place?"
The ghost's face turned sorrowful, "Many have come and tried," he spoke sadly, "But none have prevailed. But let it not be said that Lazlo Ulrich, last burgomaster of Berez, is without compassion for a weary traveler lost in the mists." He tipped his head, and looked with disgust out of a window, "Do not head for the village center; a powerful hag resides there. She made a goat pen of my garden, taking blood from them animals. What for, I dunno, but if you hit the fence the skulls howl and she'll be here in a jiffy, so tread carefully."
I nodded at that. Perhaps hags around these parts fed on goats without children to satisfy their appetites. The hag would need to be dealt with; regardless of the situation at hand, no matter how powerful she would be, she had to be dealt with.
"Perhaps you can find like-minded fellows further north," the ghost continued, "They may be a bit dead, and rotting, but they should help one like you out."
"I understand," I muttered.
I did need some rest, and to pray. The snake meat would end up rotting away, however, or attracting creatures I would rather it did not.
In the end, I came to a grim conclusion.
I would have to survive one day without anything solid in my stomach, with my clothes chilly and my armor cold as ice.
"Helm, thee are the Ever-Vigilant, the Guardian and the Watcher. I am but a guardian sworn to your Oath, and thus I bind myself willingly to the Oath sworn. My prayers are yours, oh Watcher. Grant me strength to withstand the weight of the hurdle I must cross, and give me more if that is what is needed. For I will do my part, regardless. If I break, then I break holding the weight of your expectations upon my shoulders, and no sweeter death can that be," as I finished praying, I felt the warmth within my chest bubble up, stretching to the tip of my fingers as it staved off the cold.
It didn't dry me up, but it was a welcomed thing.
Yet, as I rested there, or at least, attempted to, a light flickered briefly from the other side of the river. Through the fog, I could see it. From the other side of the river, it beckoned and called near six tall stone pillars.
"Must be a Will-o-Wisp," I muttered, shaking my head grimly.
Well, it would not have me.
I'd rest ever so briefly, and then be on my way once more.
Unfortunately, the mists had other plans.
Fear clutched my heart, awakening me from my half-baked attempt at slumber. The sword warned me through fear that something, or someone, was nearing. I could hear the soft trudging of feet on the soil outside, and as I turned slowly my head towards it, a vaguely humanoid form came into view from the edges of the garden, trailing my path.
I quietly knelt, and then slowly got on my feet.
The figure froze.
"I am a Paladin of Helm," I spoke towards it. "And who might you be?"
I did not trust the figure. I did not need to trust the figure. Even the warmth within my chest told me not to trust the figure. Everything I had, every single instinct and gut-feeling told me not to. However, I was a Paladin, and I had a duty. A duty to be a beacon of light and good.
"M-Muriel, noble sir," the voice whispered, crouching even lower if that was even possible. "It is not safe," she added. "The village is not safe by day, and worst by night."
I quietly walked towards the figure, who made visible attempts at telling me to get down. I knelt only lightly, and glanced at the darkening sky.
"Nowhere is safe around these parts," I muttered. "But there is an evil here, and so it is my duty to see it vanquished."
The humanoid figure shook her head. It was a dark color, and the skin was filthy with mud and grime, "Baba Lysaga is an ancient and powerful hag, she comes to feed on the goats nearby and if she saw you, she'd eat you too."
"She is welcomed to try," I answered, "I wouldn't actually mind eating one of those goats myself, if only I had a fire," I muttered further.
"Better you do not, or she would have seen you!" Muriel hissed. "You should leave for now. Head North and take a right at the crossroad, head for Vallaki, it's a safe city!"
I took a deep breath. "No city is safe in Barovia," I muttered. "You should know that." The humanoid figure froze, if briefly. "I will heed your counsel," I continued, "But...may I ask a favor? I was not alone. Others, like me, paladins of Helm, and a cleric too, they were with me when the mists took us. If you see them-tell them I still live."
"I will," Muriel muttered, "Now hurry, you are right that nowhere is safe, but here is worst!" she then began to crawl away, and I slowly followed her until we were far from the village itself, on a dirt road that seemed to head north. Her lantern cast a flickering of light on the path, but without it, the night of Barovia was as pitch-black as it could ever be. "Now you are safe, as safe as one can be," she chuckled grimly. "In Vallaki, go to the inn. Tell the innkeeper Muriel sends you. He'll give you a hand, but now I must go." She stopped briefly before leaving, thinking for a bit, and then thrust her lantern in my hands. "Use this, you'll need the light." Before I could say anything, she began to walk away, and I bowed in her direction, my other hand to my chest in silent thanks.
The road ahead of me would be long and strenuous.
Regardless, I would walk it.
My stomach demanded some warm food in its belly, after all.
The thought made me chuckle.
The brief moment of happiness came less as a fluttering of wings heralded the arrival of a raven atop my shoulder.
I blinked at the creature, which cawed back at me.
"I'll call you Raven," I said. "And you'll be the cutest little thing ever," I continued.
I snickered a bit at an inside joke lost to the flows of time, sighing in disbelief at the situation at hand. The raven seemed pleased enough that I hadn't shooed it away that it remained exactly where it was.
Still, flickering light from a lantern guiding me, if I did not find what little humor I could from these bizarre situations, then I doubted I ever would.
Though my path is long, strenuous and dark, I shall not fear it...
...for Helm's eyes watch over me, and thus it will forever be safe.
- Location
- Canada
Aww, he's got a lightsaber and a Raven pal.
Now he just needs to drain the air out of his enemies lungs in a brutal display of unnatural magic and he can be a true hero again.
Now he just needs to drain the air out of his enemies lungs in a brutal display of unnatural magic and he can be a true hero again.
Madou Sutegobana
Autocorrupt has been disabled.
- Location
- Twin Realms Mandala
Shade almost ate a snek...
Does it count as cannablism, if it was past lives when you were the same species?
Does it count as cannablism, if it was past lives when you were the same species?
- Location
- United States
A Friendly Raven in a Shade story... I don't know if it's foreshadowing or just a reference. Still, there is only one correct response to this.
Notononn
Freelance Trusted Lieutenant
- Location
- South Eagle Land
She eats kids.
- Location
- Canada
Most hags do.
Ravenloft - Chapter Three - Wilderness/Argynvostholt
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Ravenloft - Chapter Three - Wilderness/Argynvostholt
The night sky was as pitch-black as the darkest of caves, and the only sign I was still on a road came from flickers of light that filtered through the lantern and the sound of my armored boots against the gravel. The cold had stopped bothering me midway through my walk, replaced with the strenuous effort to keep on moving even in the middle of the night.
My breath exhaled a light haze, which to my tired mind looked every bit like the gaping maws of skulls. The mists seemed to shine of a light of their own as I dimly realized they had surrounded me. I tensed, my free hand going for my sword.
The raven perched on my shoulder was fast asleep. "We may have trouble ahead of us," I muttered, the hilt strapped to my chest sharing my worry. I kept pushing forward, even as the mist stopped parting and began to instead swallow me whole. The cold clammed to my skin as step after step resonated into the back of my skull. I could still breathe, but even so I knew I was not alone. Something was witnessing this.
Someone was looking at me.
I spun, and my spinning awoke the raven with a startled caw. The noise of galloping hooves echoed behind me, screams of war and battle cries reached my ears as the mists seemed to part ever so slightly, showing hazy forms of warriors fighting other warriors, of cavalry charges breaking through defenders. In the midst of it all I saw a ghostly dragon roar and slam down, silvery mist encompassing it, and fight a final, terrible battle that parted the mists of their own accord.
A mansion stood at the far end of the parted mists. A tall, decrepit mansion.
Argynvostholt. The name came to the tethered borders of my mind, a whisper of ancient age and wisdom. This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness. I see a fallen paladin of a fallen order of knights. He lingers like a ghost in a dead dragon's lair.
The raven flapped its wings in a flurry as I began to walk towards the mansion, my body weary but my soul strengthened. The phantoms that surrounded me broke apart at the merest touch, and did not hinder my walk up the hill.
High above the river valley jutted a quiet promontory upon which loomed a sepulchral mansion, its turrets capped with fairytale cones, its towers lined with sculpted battlements. A third of the structure had collapsed, as had part of the roof, but the rest appeared intact. A dark, octagonal tower rose above the surrounding architecture. Out of the fog came a distant peal of thunder, quickly accompanied by the howling of wolves in the woods below, but the house stood silent, seeming like the fossilized remains of some long-dead thing smote upon the mountainside.
Perched atop a ten-foot-wide, ten-foot-high cube of granite was a moss-covered statue of a dragon, its wings tucked close to its body. The statue looked east, toward the mansion. To that sight, I came to a halt. The mansion was quite massive, and while it looked a crumbling thing, I reckoned that perhaps, something might have remained of whole and flammable enough to start a campfire.
The raven cawed, flapping its wings as if to suggest we depart. "This is where I must go first," I muttered, starting to climb the stairs. "I do not ask that you follow me, kind Raven," I continued. "What other sensible people call a Paladin's foolishness, I call the honor of the just and righteous." I chuckled at that.
Flagstone steps flanked by stone railings climbed to a landing in front of a pair of tall, wooden doors with rusted iron bands and knockers shaped like small dragons. Carved into the lintel above the entrance was the word ARGYNVOSTHOLT. As my feet touched the landing, there was a sharp clack from behind. I turned barely in time to witness the dragon statue exhale a large cone of cold air in our direction.
If nothing else, it further dried up. The raven squawked, and then flew off in a hurry. I watched the raven leave with a sigh. Well, I couldn't force animals to follow me into the den of evil, clearly.
"An entrance drier?" I muttered, shaking my head as I pushed the door open.
The entrance had a grand staircase leading up to stone balconies held aloft by stone pillars and arches. A tall, faded tapestry depicting a nobleman in silver armor hung from an iron rod above the staircase landing. Six sets of double doors lead from this foyer. Along the walls, displayed on marble pedestals, were three alabaster busts of handsome men. A fourth bust and its pedestal were knocked over, and their shattered remains lied strewn across the mosaic floor. Two chandeliers of wrought iron hung from the ceiling like monstrous black spiders.
The doors to the left and to the right of the foyer were closed, while the two to the side of the grand staircase instead were ominously open. I walked towards one of them, glancing carefully to my right and left. "Is anybody home?" I asked, warily holding a hand to my blade's hilt. "I mean no harm to those who are of good nature."
I heard a shuffling noise from the closed door to my left, and my back hit the wall near-immediately. With my free hand, I carefully fumbled for the door's handle, and pried it open. It was dark, but my vision adjusted to the sight of barrels standing within wooden braces.
The pungent smell of vinegar reached my nose, and I took a few hesitant steps inside. "I come in peace if you are of good disposition," I pressed on. "I am a Paladin, sworn to the Ever-Vigilant, the Guardian and the Watcher."
A figure carefully crept out from behind some of the barrels. Even with little light, I could see that the humanoid in question had gleaming eyes, and was favoring one side of his body over the other. "I could use a healer," he muttered, wincing visibly as I neared.
"I could use a light," I whispered in reply, gesturing at him to sit down and let me see.
"I have a candle," the man in question muttered, before fumbling through his pockets for one. His fingers were trembling as he grabbed hold of a small piece of flint and some steel, rubbing them together until a couple of sparks lit the candle in question.
With the light now dim, I could see the features of the man -or rather, the elf in question.
"I am Shade," I said, removing my gauntlets to better pry the cloth wet with dried blood away, "Of Shallowbrook."
"Savid," the elf muttered. "From Vallaki, the Vistani camp outside the walls."
"I was headed for Vallaki," I said nonchalantly, "But I felt I had to visit this place first. Perhaps my God wished for me to save you, Savid. What is your purpose here?"
"A child went missing," the elf answered, wincing as I began to remove small, needle-like darts stuck into his skin. I closed each wound with the warmth thrumming from the tip of my fingertips, "her parents wanted her found, but needle blights attacked me in the forest and I had to run here."
"Helm fondly watches over children," I said in turn. "I would come to your aid, gladly so, but first I must find whom I am meant to within these halls." I swallowed. "The night is still long. Would you mind if I were to hold on to the candle a bit longer?"
As I finished patching him up, the elf nodded. "I won't be going anywhere until morning comes. Just be careful, for the ghost of Argynvost, the silver dragon, haunts this place yet."
I nodded, and placed the candle within the lantern, letting it glimmer across the mirrors within to cast a small, flickering beam of light forth.
"See you in the morning, Savid," I stood up with a dreary sigh, and my stomach took that as the cue to grumble loudly.
"Wait," he hissed, fumbling for his pockets and pulling out a hard-looking, round piece of black bread and some thin lanky strips of dried meat. "It is not much, but you may need it more than I."
I stared at the offered food with saliva filling my mouth.
"Thank you," I whispered out, earning a look of surprise from the elf.
For even in Barovia, in the land of the mists and of the dark powers nothing lit the beacon of hope more than kindness being returned.
Because for as long as the tiniest flicker of hope burns...
...evil has not won, and never will.
The night sky was as pitch-black as the darkest of caves, and the only sign I was still on a road came from flickers of light that filtered through the lantern and the sound of my armored boots against the gravel. The cold had stopped bothering me midway through my walk, replaced with the strenuous effort to keep on moving even in the middle of the night.
My breath exhaled a light haze, which to my tired mind looked every bit like the gaping maws of skulls. The mists seemed to shine of a light of their own as I dimly realized they had surrounded me. I tensed, my free hand going for my sword.
The raven perched on my shoulder was fast asleep. "We may have trouble ahead of us," I muttered, the hilt strapped to my chest sharing my worry. I kept pushing forward, even as the mist stopped parting and began to instead swallow me whole. The cold clammed to my skin as step after step resonated into the back of my skull. I could still breathe, but even so I knew I was not alone. Something was witnessing this.
Someone was looking at me.
I spun, and my spinning awoke the raven with a startled caw. The noise of galloping hooves echoed behind me, screams of war and battle cries reached my ears as the mists seemed to part ever so slightly, showing hazy forms of warriors fighting other warriors, of cavalry charges breaking through defenders. In the midst of it all I saw a ghostly dragon roar and slam down, silvery mist encompassing it, and fight a final, terrible battle that parted the mists of their own accord.
A mansion stood at the far end of the parted mists. A tall, decrepit mansion.
Argynvostholt. The name came to the tethered borders of my mind, a whisper of ancient age and wisdom. This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness. I see a fallen paladin of a fallen order of knights. He lingers like a ghost in a dead dragon's lair.
The raven flapped its wings in a flurry as I began to walk towards the mansion, my body weary but my soul strengthened. The phantoms that surrounded me broke apart at the merest touch, and did not hinder my walk up the hill.
High above the river valley jutted a quiet promontory upon which loomed a sepulchral mansion, its turrets capped with fairytale cones, its towers lined with sculpted battlements. A third of the structure had collapsed, as had part of the roof, but the rest appeared intact. A dark, octagonal tower rose above the surrounding architecture. Out of the fog came a distant peal of thunder, quickly accompanied by the howling of wolves in the woods below, but the house stood silent, seeming like the fossilized remains of some long-dead thing smote upon the mountainside.
Perched atop a ten-foot-wide, ten-foot-high cube of granite was a moss-covered statue of a dragon, its wings tucked close to its body. The statue looked east, toward the mansion. To that sight, I came to a halt. The mansion was quite massive, and while it looked a crumbling thing, I reckoned that perhaps, something might have remained of whole and flammable enough to start a campfire.
The raven cawed, flapping its wings as if to suggest we depart. "This is where I must go first," I muttered, starting to climb the stairs. "I do not ask that you follow me, kind Raven," I continued. "What other sensible people call a Paladin's foolishness, I call the honor of the just and righteous." I chuckled at that.
Flagstone steps flanked by stone railings climbed to a landing in front of a pair of tall, wooden doors with rusted iron bands and knockers shaped like small dragons. Carved into the lintel above the entrance was the word ARGYNVOSTHOLT. As my feet touched the landing, there was a sharp clack from behind. I turned barely in time to witness the dragon statue exhale a large cone of cold air in our direction.
If nothing else, it further dried up. The raven squawked, and then flew off in a hurry. I watched the raven leave with a sigh. Well, I couldn't force animals to follow me into the den of evil, clearly.
"An entrance drier?" I muttered, shaking my head as I pushed the door open.
The entrance had a grand staircase leading up to stone balconies held aloft by stone pillars and arches. A tall, faded tapestry depicting a nobleman in silver armor hung from an iron rod above the staircase landing. Six sets of double doors lead from this foyer. Along the walls, displayed on marble pedestals, were three alabaster busts of handsome men. A fourth bust and its pedestal were knocked over, and their shattered remains lied strewn across the mosaic floor. Two chandeliers of wrought iron hung from the ceiling like monstrous black spiders.
The doors to the left and to the right of the foyer were closed, while the two to the side of the grand staircase instead were ominously open. I walked towards one of them, glancing carefully to my right and left. "Is anybody home?" I asked, warily holding a hand to my blade's hilt. "I mean no harm to those who are of good nature."
I heard a shuffling noise from the closed door to my left, and my back hit the wall near-immediately. With my free hand, I carefully fumbled for the door's handle, and pried it open. It was dark, but my vision adjusted to the sight of barrels standing within wooden braces.
The pungent smell of vinegar reached my nose, and I took a few hesitant steps inside. "I come in peace if you are of good disposition," I pressed on. "I am a Paladin, sworn to the Ever-Vigilant, the Guardian and the Watcher."
A figure carefully crept out from behind some of the barrels. Even with little light, I could see that the humanoid in question had gleaming eyes, and was favoring one side of his body over the other. "I could use a healer," he muttered, wincing visibly as I neared.
"I could use a light," I whispered in reply, gesturing at him to sit down and let me see.
"I have a candle," the man in question muttered, before fumbling through his pockets for one. His fingers were trembling as he grabbed hold of a small piece of flint and some steel, rubbing them together until a couple of sparks lit the candle in question.
With the light now dim, I could see the features of the man -or rather, the elf in question.
"I am Shade," I said, removing my gauntlets to better pry the cloth wet with dried blood away, "Of Shallowbrook."
"Savid," the elf muttered. "From Vallaki, the Vistani camp outside the walls."
"I was headed for Vallaki," I said nonchalantly, "But I felt I had to visit this place first. Perhaps my God wished for me to save you, Savid. What is your purpose here?"
"A child went missing," the elf answered, wincing as I began to remove small, needle-like darts stuck into his skin. I closed each wound with the warmth thrumming from the tip of my fingertips, "her parents wanted her found, but needle blights attacked me in the forest and I had to run here."
"Helm fondly watches over children," I said in turn. "I would come to your aid, gladly so, but first I must find whom I am meant to within these halls." I swallowed. "The night is still long. Would you mind if I were to hold on to the candle a bit longer?"
As I finished patching him up, the elf nodded. "I won't be going anywhere until morning comes. Just be careful, for the ghost of Argynvost, the silver dragon, haunts this place yet."
I nodded, and placed the candle within the lantern, letting it glimmer across the mirrors within to cast a small, flickering beam of light forth.
"See you in the morning, Savid," I stood up with a dreary sigh, and my stomach took that as the cue to grumble loudly.
"Wait," he hissed, fumbling for his pockets and pulling out a hard-looking, round piece of black bread and some thin lanky strips of dried meat. "It is not much, but you may need it more than I."
I stared at the offered food with saliva filling my mouth.
"Thank you," I whispered out, earning a look of surprise from the elf.
For even in Barovia, in the land of the mists and of the dark powers nothing lit the beacon of hope more than kindness being returned.
Because for as long as the tiniest flicker of hope burns...
...evil has not won, and never will.
Ravenloft - Chapter Four - Argynvostholt
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Ravenloft - Chapter Four - Argynvostholt
The room had light in it. I stepped into what had once been a dining hall, and pale white light came down from the chandeliers.
A twenty-foot-long table with sculpted dragons for legs stood in the center of this hall. The chairs that surrounded the table had backs carved to resemble folded dragon wings, and several of the chairs were overturned or smashed to pieces. Standing in windowed alcoves were two life-sized statues depicting knights with dragon-winged helms and shields. Rainwater trickled through cracks in the ceiling, flowing down the west wall and adding to a large puddle on the floor.
Five sets of wooden doors led to this hall. The doors in the northeast corner hung open. A pair of leaded glass doors, their panes cracked and broken, stood open between panels of stained glass set into the east wall. These panels depicted silver dragons in flight. Beyond the glass doors lay a dark, misty room that appeared to be a chapel.
The statues looked incredibly lifelike, and as I passed near one of them, I could not help but gingerly touch the breastplate of stone. Silent, eternal guardians to a place long forgotten, I wondered just how much their eyes had seen, and how much sadness could they hold within their stone chests for the fall of the order.
Once I neared the leaded glass doors, I could see the chapel's insides, and my breath was taken away.
Cracked wooden pillars supported a wooden, U-shaped balcony that hung over the stone-walled chapel. Narrow archways led to spiral staircases that curled up to the balcony, and a door set into the north wall had a wooden beam barring it. At the east end of the chapel rested a stone altar flanked by iron candelabras. The altar was carved with a rising sun basrelief. Tall, arching windows set with panels of stained glass decorated the walls behind the altar. One of the windows had been shattered, covering the chapel floor with shards of colored glass and allowing thick fog to enter and fill the room.
Three armored figures were kneeling by the altar, and as I quietly took a few hesitant steps inside, I called out to them. It had worked well the first time, so it would work well once more, no?
"Forgive my intrusion, I am a Paladin sworn of Helm-"
Sharp hisses came from the figures as they rose as one, all three turning with a kind of maniacal precision. Their eyes gleamed with hatred. Their faces were sunk, and their armors torn into tattered remains.
"Intruder!" they screamed, "Ally of Strahd!" they rushed forward, longswords wielded in both hands, "Death to his spies!"
I widened my eyes as my hand went for my blade, only for worry and determination to push through my mind. The platinum hilt wished to be held, and I obeyed instantaneously, igniting the Sunsword in my free hand.
The Sun came to Barovia that night.
The Sun pushed the fogs away, out of the cracked glass window, and the light of it gave the undead creatures the briefest of pauses.
"I am a Paladin of Helm," I spoke again, clearly, "And I am no ally of Strahd."
The undead creatures snarled, and then they lunged once more. I let go of the lantern, my hand moving for my shield. I did not wait for the trio to reach me first. I charged back, my feet striking the ground as I slammed shield first into the uttermost-left one, my body meeting resistance for the briefest of seconds before it was swatted backwards, my arm swinging to my right and slashing across the chest another undead.
The sword's Sun-blade sizzled as it came into contact with the rotten flesh, searing it with brilliant flames. The creature emitted a sharp cry of pain, recoiling briefly from the touch of the blade as the light grew in intensity.
The third's longsword impacted against my back, slamming like a mace rather than a sword. I hissed, holding my breath as I turned, slamming the sides of my shield into the undead's face, crashing through the skull and coiling my arm downwards, thrusting through the rotten flesh and the ancient ribs straight into its non-existent heart.
The once knight screamed as light burned through his body, leaving his eyes and mouth and burning him from the inside-out.
"Through scorching heat the faithful walks!" with a bellowing roar, accompanied by the sword's own excitement, searing flames poured out and latched on to the rotten skin, eagerly burning away and filling the room with the smell of burning flesh. I pulled the sword free as I made it parry the incoming strike from the other side. I slammed my foot into the knee of the burning enemy, shattering it and sending the shambling corpse to its final rest in a cloud of dust and rusted bits of armor.
My shield dulled the swing of a longsword, the snarling figure of the undead pushing closer. The second slammed his against my arm, forcing it down before attempting to thrust into my chest-plate. The dull blade found no purchase through the armor, but the strength pushed me back. I gasped for air, and twisted to the side, delivering the back of my armored elbow to the undead's face, hearing the satisfying sound of crunching bones as I pushed the creature between myself and its brother.
"Louder than the storm, the faithful prays!" I snarled, a powerful thunder-like boom echoing across the chapel, making the very glass tremble and crack ominously. The dust left carried by a sudden gale, lightning sparking across the Sunsword as it dug into the flesh of the undead in front of me for the briefest of instants, before the creature was pushed away like a doll in the hands of a hurricane. The armored feet of the undead sparked against the floor, nearly tumbling down if not for his brethren's presence of mind in holding him up with one hand.
I plunged forward, piercing through the chest of the first in line, pushing him and his brother further against the wall. The light of the sword sizzled with renewed intensity as the two undead screamed, trying to claw and hit at my head protected by its helmet. The blows glanced off, and I twisted the blade of pure sunlight further inside.
With final, parting snarls, they both fell into piles of ashes. I exhaled, and with but a thought turned off the blazing sun in my hand. The platinum hilt still glittered, but now darkness overpowered once more the room, the fog creeping in like an angry snake having been denied its price for too long. The lantern still cast a pale light from its confines, and as I grabbed and lifted it up once more, I glanced at the spiraling staircase heading upwards.
I caught my breath climbing the stairs slowly, taking great care that each step would not be my last, or that I would not slip, and fall down. I ended up into a balcony overlooking the chapel, an exquisitely carved throne of wood standing at the center of it, and twin wooden doors headed for the upper floor of the mansion. My fingers traced the back of the throne, absentmindedly tracing the Vigilant's eye with the tip of my index finger.
"Watch my back, Watcher," I muttered, "For I will never stand alone as long as your eyes gaze upon me."
I carefully pried open one of the doors, which creaked before swinging open. Two stone balconies flanked the main foyer. Balusters carved to resemble knights in shining armor supported their elegantly carved stone railings. Weapons and shields festooned the walls along each of these walkways, while alabaster busts of handsome men flanked hallways that led north and south away from the foyer. At the west end of each balcony was an archway that led to a spiral staircase going up.
I walked carefully across the walkway, the busts' eyes staring at me and following my walking, thought it might have been a trick of the light. The stairway went up once more.
"Just how many stairs are there?" I muttered in disbelief, shaking my head ever so slightly as I attempted to crack a smile. Rather, I was feeling the mirth in the blade's hilt, shaking off the wear and the tear of the frayed edges of my soul with some instilled droplets of happiness. "I am glad I am not alone," I continued in a soft murmur, patting the hilt with my free hand.
The feeling was mutual, or at least, that was what the sword made me feel in reply.
The upper floor opened to a long hallway that stopped mid-point due to a large amount of rubble and puddles of rainwater. The ceiling had collapsed, leaving only the dark sky of Barovia and not a single glint of light high in the sky. There were no stars, and the moon, pale and big as it was, stood hidden behind clouds and banks of fog.
My free hand, not busy holding the lantern, kept hold of the wall to my left. If the ceiling had caved, then the floor itself might not be that sturdy either. With a quiet creak, the door to the left of the corridor opened by itself, a cold breeze unsettling my bones. I quietly glanced inside, and my heart sunk in my chest, as I realized that perhaps, I shouldn't have.
Through the dust and cobwebs, with but the pale gleam of my lantern, I saw faded war banners adorning the walls of a spacious chamber, in the center of which stood a heavy wooden table. An iron chandelier hung above the table, surrounded by six high-backed chairs with wood-carved dragons perched atop them. Slumped in five of the chairs were skeletal humans in tattered chainmail.
The corpses tilted their heads in my direction. One of them growled, "Why do you the living disturb the dead?" it spoke with a scratchy, unholy voice.
"I-I am a Paladin of Helm, sworn to the Ever-Vigilant, the Watcher, the Guardian God," I swallowed my fear. There were five of them. Fighting three had been hard, but doable. Five was beyond my ability. Even so, I clenched the lantern tighter as I walked into the room, to my probable impending death. The door closed with a creak behind me, and I gazed at the one of the skeletal remains that had spoken, "And I do not wish to disturb the dead, but...these lands are in need of aid. I have come to answer the call."
"If you hoped to find allies here," one of the five snarled, "You are sorely mistaken," another hissed. "Nothing but anger remains. Nothing but hatred. Nothing but Vladimir's hatred," a third undead spoke deeply, his voice coming from a hole in his throat.
I took a deep breath. "I know what anger feels like," I muttered, "It is an empowering, burning feeling that runs in your chest, a warmth that bubbles and rises and gives strength to your limbs," I shook my head slowly, "But it is a fleeting sentiment, an emotion that leaves one drained afterwards, that leaves behind a creeping cold that you cannot detach from. The people of Barovia need your help, not your hatred. They need you against-"
"Be quiet!" one of the undead snarled, "You speak of things you know not!" his body shuddered as he began to rise. "Leave us! Plea your case to Vladimir! We await and obey his command, and his command alone!"
"Follow the dictates of your superiors, only as long as they do not infringe on the laws of Helm," I spoke back, "That is the law I abide to. The oaths you swore, they chain and bind you. But if it shackles you to evil, if it shackles you to betray whom you really are, then be done with those! No man is truly a slave, unless he obeys willingly to those he abhors! And if that is the case," I raised my hand to my chest, "Then ask, and I will defend you too. For mine are the shoulders sworn to carry the burdens of those in need, and you all look like you could use someone to help you."
"Foolish arrogance of an ignorant foreigner," one of the undead hissed, rising up with hatred in its eyes. "You should not have come here," a second growled, following the first. "We must await Vladimir's command," the third thundered, "Argynvostholt' trespassers shall not survive our wrath," the fourth muttered, standing up in turn.
The fifth, instead, rose in silence and wielded his longsword. With a swift, graceful motion, his blade sliced through the undead by his right, a blinding flash of light searing the wound and leaving the knight to fall on the ground cleaved in half, a look of surprise still marring its undead face.
"Sir Gwilym!?" one of the surviving undead snarled, "This is betrayal!"
"No," the undead spoke, his voice scratchy and yet firm. His eyes shining with a pale blue light, different from the crimson that marred the color of the other undead's gazes. "This is setting things right." His eyes turned to stare at mine, and briefly, I felt a tug within the warmth of my chest. "I ask your aid, Paladin of Helm. Help me bring honor back to my brothers, and your enemies shall be mine until released."
"You have my word," I said with firm finality, "I swear for as long as I draw breath, I will aid in restoring the honor of your brothers. Stand by my side, and I will protect you. Fight by my side, and I will shield you in your time of need."
With a shriek, the three remaining undead lunged, but the sizzling blade of Sunlight plunged in the depths of one's chest, while the second's longsword blow was deflected by the undead now standing back to back with me. "I am Sir Godfrey of Gwilym, knight of the silver dragon!" he spoke.
"And I am Sir Shade of Shallowbrook, watchknight of the Ever-Vigilant!" I answered back, the Sunsword making the room appear brightly lit, triumphant cheers ringing in my ears from the blade's own glorious laughter.
He was not one of my Helmite brothers, but I found myself not caring.
I was simply glad one more spark of kindness now existed within Barovia, lit by the fires of my faith.
The room had light in it. I stepped into what had once been a dining hall, and pale white light came down from the chandeliers.
A twenty-foot-long table with sculpted dragons for legs stood in the center of this hall. The chairs that surrounded the table had backs carved to resemble folded dragon wings, and several of the chairs were overturned or smashed to pieces. Standing in windowed alcoves were two life-sized statues depicting knights with dragon-winged helms and shields. Rainwater trickled through cracks in the ceiling, flowing down the west wall and adding to a large puddle on the floor.
Five sets of wooden doors led to this hall. The doors in the northeast corner hung open. A pair of leaded glass doors, their panes cracked and broken, stood open between panels of stained glass set into the east wall. These panels depicted silver dragons in flight. Beyond the glass doors lay a dark, misty room that appeared to be a chapel.
The statues looked incredibly lifelike, and as I passed near one of them, I could not help but gingerly touch the breastplate of stone. Silent, eternal guardians to a place long forgotten, I wondered just how much their eyes had seen, and how much sadness could they hold within their stone chests for the fall of the order.
Once I neared the leaded glass doors, I could see the chapel's insides, and my breath was taken away.
Cracked wooden pillars supported a wooden, U-shaped balcony that hung over the stone-walled chapel. Narrow archways led to spiral staircases that curled up to the balcony, and a door set into the north wall had a wooden beam barring it. At the east end of the chapel rested a stone altar flanked by iron candelabras. The altar was carved with a rising sun basrelief. Tall, arching windows set with panels of stained glass decorated the walls behind the altar. One of the windows had been shattered, covering the chapel floor with shards of colored glass and allowing thick fog to enter and fill the room.
Three armored figures were kneeling by the altar, and as I quietly took a few hesitant steps inside, I called out to them. It had worked well the first time, so it would work well once more, no?
"Forgive my intrusion, I am a Paladin sworn of Helm-"
Sharp hisses came from the figures as they rose as one, all three turning with a kind of maniacal precision. Their eyes gleamed with hatred. Their faces were sunk, and their armors torn into tattered remains.
"Intruder!" they screamed, "Ally of Strahd!" they rushed forward, longswords wielded in both hands, "Death to his spies!"
I widened my eyes as my hand went for my blade, only for worry and determination to push through my mind. The platinum hilt wished to be held, and I obeyed instantaneously, igniting the Sunsword in my free hand.
The Sun came to Barovia that night.
The Sun pushed the fogs away, out of the cracked glass window, and the light of it gave the undead creatures the briefest of pauses.
"I am a Paladin of Helm," I spoke again, clearly, "And I am no ally of Strahd."
The undead creatures snarled, and then they lunged once more. I let go of the lantern, my hand moving for my shield. I did not wait for the trio to reach me first. I charged back, my feet striking the ground as I slammed shield first into the uttermost-left one, my body meeting resistance for the briefest of seconds before it was swatted backwards, my arm swinging to my right and slashing across the chest another undead.
The sword's Sun-blade sizzled as it came into contact with the rotten flesh, searing it with brilliant flames. The creature emitted a sharp cry of pain, recoiling briefly from the touch of the blade as the light grew in intensity.
The third's longsword impacted against my back, slamming like a mace rather than a sword. I hissed, holding my breath as I turned, slamming the sides of my shield into the undead's face, crashing through the skull and coiling my arm downwards, thrusting through the rotten flesh and the ancient ribs straight into its non-existent heart.
The once knight screamed as light burned through his body, leaving his eyes and mouth and burning him from the inside-out.
"Through scorching heat the faithful walks!" with a bellowing roar, accompanied by the sword's own excitement, searing flames poured out and latched on to the rotten skin, eagerly burning away and filling the room with the smell of burning flesh. I pulled the sword free as I made it parry the incoming strike from the other side. I slammed my foot into the knee of the burning enemy, shattering it and sending the shambling corpse to its final rest in a cloud of dust and rusted bits of armor.
My shield dulled the swing of a longsword, the snarling figure of the undead pushing closer. The second slammed his against my arm, forcing it down before attempting to thrust into my chest-plate. The dull blade found no purchase through the armor, but the strength pushed me back. I gasped for air, and twisted to the side, delivering the back of my armored elbow to the undead's face, hearing the satisfying sound of crunching bones as I pushed the creature between myself and its brother.
"Louder than the storm, the faithful prays!" I snarled, a powerful thunder-like boom echoing across the chapel, making the very glass tremble and crack ominously. The dust left carried by a sudden gale, lightning sparking across the Sunsword as it dug into the flesh of the undead in front of me for the briefest of instants, before the creature was pushed away like a doll in the hands of a hurricane. The armored feet of the undead sparked against the floor, nearly tumbling down if not for his brethren's presence of mind in holding him up with one hand.
I plunged forward, piercing through the chest of the first in line, pushing him and his brother further against the wall. The light of the sword sizzled with renewed intensity as the two undead screamed, trying to claw and hit at my head protected by its helmet. The blows glanced off, and I twisted the blade of pure sunlight further inside.
With final, parting snarls, they both fell into piles of ashes. I exhaled, and with but a thought turned off the blazing sun in my hand. The platinum hilt still glittered, but now darkness overpowered once more the room, the fog creeping in like an angry snake having been denied its price for too long. The lantern still cast a pale light from its confines, and as I grabbed and lifted it up once more, I glanced at the spiraling staircase heading upwards.
I caught my breath climbing the stairs slowly, taking great care that each step would not be my last, or that I would not slip, and fall down. I ended up into a balcony overlooking the chapel, an exquisitely carved throne of wood standing at the center of it, and twin wooden doors headed for the upper floor of the mansion. My fingers traced the back of the throne, absentmindedly tracing the Vigilant's eye with the tip of my index finger.
"Watch my back, Watcher," I muttered, "For I will never stand alone as long as your eyes gaze upon me."
I carefully pried open one of the doors, which creaked before swinging open. Two stone balconies flanked the main foyer. Balusters carved to resemble knights in shining armor supported their elegantly carved stone railings. Weapons and shields festooned the walls along each of these walkways, while alabaster busts of handsome men flanked hallways that led north and south away from the foyer. At the west end of each balcony was an archway that led to a spiral staircase going up.
I walked carefully across the walkway, the busts' eyes staring at me and following my walking, thought it might have been a trick of the light. The stairway went up once more.
"Just how many stairs are there?" I muttered in disbelief, shaking my head ever so slightly as I attempted to crack a smile. Rather, I was feeling the mirth in the blade's hilt, shaking off the wear and the tear of the frayed edges of my soul with some instilled droplets of happiness. "I am glad I am not alone," I continued in a soft murmur, patting the hilt with my free hand.
The feeling was mutual, or at least, that was what the sword made me feel in reply.
The upper floor opened to a long hallway that stopped mid-point due to a large amount of rubble and puddles of rainwater. The ceiling had collapsed, leaving only the dark sky of Barovia and not a single glint of light high in the sky. There were no stars, and the moon, pale and big as it was, stood hidden behind clouds and banks of fog.
My free hand, not busy holding the lantern, kept hold of the wall to my left. If the ceiling had caved, then the floor itself might not be that sturdy either. With a quiet creak, the door to the left of the corridor opened by itself, a cold breeze unsettling my bones. I quietly glanced inside, and my heart sunk in my chest, as I realized that perhaps, I shouldn't have.
Through the dust and cobwebs, with but the pale gleam of my lantern, I saw faded war banners adorning the walls of a spacious chamber, in the center of which stood a heavy wooden table. An iron chandelier hung above the table, surrounded by six high-backed chairs with wood-carved dragons perched atop them. Slumped in five of the chairs were skeletal humans in tattered chainmail.
The corpses tilted their heads in my direction. One of them growled, "Why do you the living disturb the dead?" it spoke with a scratchy, unholy voice.
"I-I am a Paladin of Helm, sworn to the Ever-Vigilant, the Watcher, the Guardian God," I swallowed my fear. There were five of them. Fighting three had been hard, but doable. Five was beyond my ability. Even so, I clenched the lantern tighter as I walked into the room, to my probable impending death. The door closed with a creak behind me, and I gazed at the one of the skeletal remains that had spoken, "And I do not wish to disturb the dead, but...these lands are in need of aid. I have come to answer the call."
"If you hoped to find allies here," one of the five snarled, "You are sorely mistaken," another hissed. "Nothing but anger remains. Nothing but hatred. Nothing but Vladimir's hatred," a third undead spoke deeply, his voice coming from a hole in his throat.
I took a deep breath. "I know what anger feels like," I muttered, "It is an empowering, burning feeling that runs in your chest, a warmth that bubbles and rises and gives strength to your limbs," I shook my head slowly, "But it is a fleeting sentiment, an emotion that leaves one drained afterwards, that leaves behind a creeping cold that you cannot detach from. The people of Barovia need your help, not your hatred. They need you against-"
"Be quiet!" one of the undead snarled, "You speak of things you know not!" his body shuddered as he began to rise. "Leave us! Plea your case to Vladimir! We await and obey his command, and his command alone!"
"Follow the dictates of your superiors, only as long as they do not infringe on the laws of Helm," I spoke back, "That is the law I abide to. The oaths you swore, they chain and bind you. But if it shackles you to evil, if it shackles you to betray whom you really are, then be done with those! No man is truly a slave, unless he obeys willingly to those he abhors! And if that is the case," I raised my hand to my chest, "Then ask, and I will defend you too. For mine are the shoulders sworn to carry the burdens of those in need, and you all look like you could use someone to help you."
"Foolish arrogance of an ignorant foreigner," one of the undead hissed, rising up with hatred in its eyes. "You should not have come here," a second growled, following the first. "We must await Vladimir's command," the third thundered, "Argynvostholt' trespassers shall not survive our wrath," the fourth muttered, standing up in turn.
The fifth, instead, rose in silence and wielded his longsword. With a swift, graceful motion, his blade sliced through the undead by his right, a blinding flash of light searing the wound and leaving the knight to fall on the ground cleaved in half, a look of surprise still marring its undead face.
"Sir Gwilym!?" one of the surviving undead snarled, "This is betrayal!"
"No," the undead spoke, his voice scratchy and yet firm. His eyes shining with a pale blue light, different from the crimson that marred the color of the other undead's gazes. "This is setting things right." His eyes turned to stare at mine, and briefly, I felt a tug within the warmth of my chest. "I ask your aid, Paladin of Helm. Help me bring honor back to my brothers, and your enemies shall be mine until released."
"You have my word," I said with firm finality, "I swear for as long as I draw breath, I will aid in restoring the honor of your brothers. Stand by my side, and I will protect you. Fight by my side, and I will shield you in your time of need."
With a shriek, the three remaining undead lunged, but the sizzling blade of Sunlight plunged in the depths of one's chest, while the second's longsword blow was deflected by the undead now standing back to back with me. "I am Sir Godfrey of Gwilym, knight of the silver dragon!" he spoke.
"And I am Sir Shade of Shallowbrook, watchknight of the Ever-Vigilant!" I answered back, the Sunsword making the room appear brightly lit, triumphant cheers ringing in my ears from the blade's own glorious laughter.
He was not one of my Helmite brothers, but I found myself not caring.
I was simply glad one more spark of kindness now existed within Barovia, lit by the fires of my faith.
Ravenloft - Chapter Five - Argynvostholt
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Ravenloft - Chapter Five - Argynvostholt
I retraced my steps, Sir Godfrey following silently. His presence was noticeable even then, his footsteps echoing in the dark corridors. We returned to the lower entrance hall, whereas I hoped Savid would be waiting, still alive. Yet we both came to a halt by the top of the staircase, the noise of a galloping horse reaching our ears with startling clarity.
It could not be the baron, for he would need no horse to materialize. Perhaps a spy, having come to seek the sun that shone in the night. The sword shared my worry, but bolstered my resolve. "How many visitors will this decrepit mansion have before the end of the night, I wonder," Sir Godfrey spoke, his voice scratchy, no emotion rising to the surface.
"What worries me is not the quantity, but the quality of those who step into these halls," I answered in turn. My hand gently closed the lantern's lid, plunging the hall in darkness. "Let us see whom they are before we decide, if friend or foe."
The figure of Sir Godfrey seemingly disappeared from my side, his steps dulled as he quietly made his way to a vantage point of sorts. I did the same, holding a hand to the stone rail of the staircase to descend in the dark. My ears picked up the hurried steps of someone climbing the stairway, the door creaking open with the silence of a well-oiled coffin, and then a startled gasp as cold steel stopped an inch away from the humanoid's neck, the door clicking to a close behind the figure.
"Are you a friend of Strahd, come to loot what little remains?" Sir Godfrey's voice came with a powerful thrum of anger.
"No, no, I'm not," the voice was definitely female, and as two hands rose up in the air, my sight adjusted to the lack of light a bit more. It was enough to realize the figure had short, curly hair and two weapons strapped to her belt, with more belts filled with vials and stakes. "I came looking for aid against him. Will your order aid me?"
"The order will not," I said, making my presence known and quietly allowing the flimsy light of the lantern to shine once more. "But we will," I tapped a hand against my chest. "If what you said is true, then know that you do not stand alone. I am Sir Shade of Shallowbrook, paladin of Helm."
The blade left her throat, Sir Godfrey's blue eyes glancing briefly at me, before nodding in turn. "Then I owe you an apology for the uncouth treatment, but only if you speak the truth," he stressed on. "I am Sir Godfrey of Gwinym, last honorable member of an order in dire need of aid against itself."
"I'm Ezmeralda," the woman said. "I'll take what help I can get," the sound of angry wolf snarls and a horse's hooves came from beyond the door, "But right now, I am being pursued-and those guys, they're Strahd servants."
With a simple movement of the hand, I once more cast the room into darkness. "Then allow me to meet them," I muttered, "hide once more, I will welcome them first."
"Decades without a visitor, and in one night half a dozen of them," Sir Godfrey muttered with a hint of disbelief. "When things start to move, they move quickly."
We took position, and as I stood in the dead center of the room with my breath barely held, I heard the snarls of the wolves from beyond the door. Their claws dug into the bark, and with a softly spoken curse, the doors were opened by a female's hand. The pursuers had torches, but that did not worry me. What did was that the moment the doors opened, two large blurs of fur and fangs rushed in, zeroing on me with their teeth gleaming. The first met a gory end with a bolt to the side of the neck, cast from the darkness of the room. The second lost its ability to growl as my sword dug into the beast's upper palate and split his brain in half.
"Stupid mutts," one of the three figures growled as the dim light from their torches showed the creatures' death. "We come in peace!" one said, the voice dry and raucous. The figures were two females and one male, clearly visible since they held the torches. "We mean no harm!" the male seemed the captain of the small group. "We are hunting a horse thief," he continued, "She stole from us-and we must bring her to face judgment."
I took a deep breath. "What judgment can servants of Strahd impose on the people, if not a sick, tyrannical one?" I took a step forward, my figure appearing at the edge of the torches' light.
"Ah-An adventurer-" the man said, a smile on his face, "Are you alone? Did the woman lie to you? Strahd is the great ruler of these lands. If you come with, I'll show you that there is nothing to fear. He is a man of the world, and of his word too."
"The lies you speak, never again will they trap those too innocent to recognize them for what they are," I growled back, blade pointed at him. "For the sins and the crimes you have committed, the Ever-Vigilant's law is clear. May your death be quick, and may the afterlife grant you the chance to atone for the sins you have committed in the service of great evil."
The man spat to the side, chuckling all the while. "You sanctimonious ones are the kind I abhor the most," he shifted his weight, and in the blink of an eye a bolt sailed in the air headed for me. It easily pierced through my armor, a sharp stinging pain spreading from the point of entry and across my entire limb. The two women took that as the cue to charge in, scimitars in hand.
I pulled the bolt out, gritting my teeth as the warmth within closed the wound. It was starting to grow colder, though. I took deep breaths, pushing myself forth as the doors of the mansion closed, Sir Godfrey having blocked the escape route of the man.
"You weren't alone then!" the man laughed cruelly, "Ain't you a bit past due date, though?" as he said that, Sir Godfrey engaged him with his longsword, forcing the man to defend with his shortsword. The two fought, but it was clear the man was looking for a way out, rather than a way to defeat the undead knight.
From the darkness, Ezmeralda appeared with a hand-ax and a sword in hand, swinging and cutting deeply into the back of one of the women, making her cry in pain and fall on the ground, blood copiously leaving the two wide wounds. "Bitch!" the second bandit snarled, before hastily bringing her scimitar up to stop my downward swing. It still threw her off-balance, and as my elbow connected with her guts, I shifted my grip on the edge of the blade, the pommel of it coming up and shattering her teeth.
She swung her scimitar right and left, wildly trying to make sense of the pain she was feeling.
With a final swing, the edges of my blade's hilt struck her guts, sending her to kneel on the ground clutching at her midriff. "M-Mercy!" she screamed, her voice hoarse. "Mercy!" she cried, her voice a broken plea. I stopped, and turned my attention to the man, who had meanwhile been nearing the windows by the door's side.
I rushed away from the woman, my eyes on the man, whom in turn realized that whatever he wanted to do, he'd better do it fast. He jumped away, taking a deep cut into the sides from Godfrey's attempt to pounce on the occasion, but broke through the window and ran, faster than I could open the twin doors, to his horse. By the time I descended the stairs, two at the time, he was already long gone in the darkness of the forest.
I clenched my fists, and slammed one down against the staircase's guard. "You will not escape the Ever-Vigilant's judgment forever," I muttered, climbing back up the stairs.
The bandit woman was where I had left her, down on her knees and her forehead touching the ground, clutching on to her stomach where I had struck her. She was spitting out blood, and clearly in pain.
Sir Godfrey watched like a hawk over the figure, while Ezmeralda seemed puzzled.
"I have granted you mercy," I spoke, kneeling in front of the woman. "For in every soul lies the chance to redeem oneself," I continued, "but I want you to bring a message to your boss, or leader, or whomever he is," she slowly looked up, staring at me. "I have sworn to carry out my duties in the defense of those in need, of the innocents and of those who cannot defend themselves. Best he change his behavior, less he incurs my attentions."
I placed a hand on her back, her breathing easing as some of the pain dulled away. "Now leave this place," I continued, "And don't ever return."
The bandit nodded warily, glancing to her left and right with disbelief clearly etched on her face. She couldn't believe she'd be let go like that. She reached for the door, and fumbled with the handles for a bit before prying it open. She rushed down the stairs, and into the darkness of the forest without a second thought.
I took a deep breath.
"Was that wise?" Ezmeralda asked.
"Perhaps it was not," I answered, "For now the Baron will know of us," I continued, clenching my fists. "But it was the right thing to do."
I shook my head.
"And in this place of injustice, every little bit of justice counts."
I retraced my steps, Sir Godfrey following silently. His presence was noticeable even then, his footsteps echoing in the dark corridors. We returned to the lower entrance hall, whereas I hoped Savid would be waiting, still alive. Yet we both came to a halt by the top of the staircase, the noise of a galloping horse reaching our ears with startling clarity.
It could not be the baron, for he would need no horse to materialize. Perhaps a spy, having come to seek the sun that shone in the night. The sword shared my worry, but bolstered my resolve. "How many visitors will this decrepit mansion have before the end of the night, I wonder," Sir Godfrey spoke, his voice scratchy, no emotion rising to the surface.
"What worries me is not the quantity, but the quality of those who step into these halls," I answered in turn. My hand gently closed the lantern's lid, plunging the hall in darkness. "Let us see whom they are before we decide, if friend or foe."
The figure of Sir Godfrey seemingly disappeared from my side, his steps dulled as he quietly made his way to a vantage point of sorts. I did the same, holding a hand to the stone rail of the staircase to descend in the dark. My ears picked up the hurried steps of someone climbing the stairway, the door creaking open with the silence of a well-oiled coffin, and then a startled gasp as cold steel stopped an inch away from the humanoid's neck, the door clicking to a close behind the figure.
"Are you a friend of Strahd, come to loot what little remains?" Sir Godfrey's voice came with a powerful thrum of anger.
"No, no, I'm not," the voice was definitely female, and as two hands rose up in the air, my sight adjusted to the lack of light a bit more. It was enough to realize the figure had short, curly hair and two weapons strapped to her belt, with more belts filled with vials and stakes. "I came looking for aid against him. Will your order aid me?"
"The order will not," I said, making my presence known and quietly allowing the flimsy light of the lantern to shine once more. "But we will," I tapped a hand against my chest. "If what you said is true, then know that you do not stand alone. I am Sir Shade of Shallowbrook, paladin of Helm."
The blade left her throat, Sir Godfrey's blue eyes glancing briefly at me, before nodding in turn. "Then I owe you an apology for the uncouth treatment, but only if you speak the truth," he stressed on. "I am Sir Godfrey of Gwinym, last honorable member of an order in dire need of aid against itself."
"I'm Ezmeralda," the woman said. "I'll take what help I can get," the sound of angry wolf snarls and a horse's hooves came from beyond the door, "But right now, I am being pursued-and those guys, they're Strahd servants."
With a simple movement of the hand, I once more cast the room into darkness. "Then allow me to meet them," I muttered, "hide once more, I will welcome them first."
"Decades without a visitor, and in one night half a dozen of them," Sir Godfrey muttered with a hint of disbelief. "When things start to move, they move quickly."
We took position, and as I stood in the dead center of the room with my breath barely held, I heard the snarls of the wolves from beyond the door. Their claws dug into the bark, and with a softly spoken curse, the doors were opened by a female's hand. The pursuers had torches, but that did not worry me. What did was that the moment the doors opened, two large blurs of fur and fangs rushed in, zeroing on me with their teeth gleaming. The first met a gory end with a bolt to the side of the neck, cast from the darkness of the room. The second lost its ability to growl as my sword dug into the beast's upper palate and split his brain in half.
"Stupid mutts," one of the three figures growled as the dim light from their torches showed the creatures' death. "We come in peace!" one said, the voice dry and raucous. The figures were two females and one male, clearly visible since they held the torches. "We mean no harm!" the male seemed the captain of the small group. "We are hunting a horse thief," he continued, "She stole from us-and we must bring her to face judgment."
I took a deep breath. "What judgment can servants of Strahd impose on the people, if not a sick, tyrannical one?" I took a step forward, my figure appearing at the edge of the torches' light.
"Ah-An adventurer-" the man said, a smile on his face, "Are you alone? Did the woman lie to you? Strahd is the great ruler of these lands. If you come with, I'll show you that there is nothing to fear. He is a man of the world, and of his word too."
"The lies you speak, never again will they trap those too innocent to recognize them for what they are," I growled back, blade pointed at him. "For the sins and the crimes you have committed, the Ever-Vigilant's law is clear. May your death be quick, and may the afterlife grant you the chance to atone for the sins you have committed in the service of great evil."
The man spat to the side, chuckling all the while. "You sanctimonious ones are the kind I abhor the most," he shifted his weight, and in the blink of an eye a bolt sailed in the air headed for me. It easily pierced through my armor, a sharp stinging pain spreading from the point of entry and across my entire limb. The two women took that as the cue to charge in, scimitars in hand.
I pulled the bolt out, gritting my teeth as the warmth within closed the wound. It was starting to grow colder, though. I took deep breaths, pushing myself forth as the doors of the mansion closed, Sir Godfrey having blocked the escape route of the man.
"You weren't alone then!" the man laughed cruelly, "Ain't you a bit past due date, though?" as he said that, Sir Godfrey engaged him with his longsword, forcing the man to defend with his shortsword. The two fought, but it was clear the man was looking for a way out, rather than a way to defeat the undead knight.
From the darkness, Ezmeralda appeared with a hand-ax and a sword in hand, swinging and cutting deeply into the back of one of the women, making her cry in pain and fall on the ground, blood copiously leaving the two wide wounds. "Bitch!" the second bandit snarled, before hastily bringing her scimitar up to stop my downward swing. It still threw her off-balance, and as my elbow connected with her guts, I shifted my grip on the edge of the blade, the pommel of it coming up and shattering her teeth.
She swung her scimitar right and left, wildly trying to make sense of the pain she was feeling.
With a final swing, the edges of my blade's hilt struck her guts, sending her to kneel on the ground clutching at her midriff. "M-Mercy!" she screamed, her voice hoarse. "Mercy!" she cried, her voice a broken plea. I stopped, and turned my attention to the man, who had meanwhile been nearing the windows by the door's side.
I rushed away from the woman, my eyes on the man, whom in turn realized that whatever he wanted to do, he'd better do it fast. He jumped away, taking a deep cut into the sides from Godfrey's attempt to pounce on the occasion, but broke through the window and ran, faster than I could open the twin doors, to his horse. By the time I descended the stairs, two at the time, he was already long gone in the darkness of the forest.
I clenched my fists, and slammed one down against the staircase's guard. "You will not escape the Ever-Vigilant's judgment forever," I muttered, climbing back up the stairs.
The bandit woman was where I had left her, down on her knees and her forehead touching the ground, clutching on to her stomach where I had struck her. She was spitting out blood, and clearly in pain.
Sir Godfrey watched like a hawk over the figure, while Ezmeralda seemed puzzled.
"I have granted you mercy," I spoke, kneeling in front of the woman. "For in every soul lies the chance to redeem oneself," I continued, "but I want you to bring a message to your boss, or leader, or whomever he is," she slowly looked up, staring at me. "I have sworn to carry out my duties in the defense of those in need, of the innocents and of those who cannot defend themselves. Best he change his behavior, less he incurs my attentions."
I placed a hand on her back, her breathing easing as some of the pain dulled away. "Now leave this place," I continued, "And don't ever return."
The bandit nodded warily, glancing to her left and right with disbelief clearly etched on her face. She couldn't believe she'd be let go like that. She reached for the door, and fumbled with the handles for a bit before prying it open. She rushed down the stairs, and into the darkness of the forest without a second thought.
I took a deep breath.
"Was that wise?" Ezmeralda asked.
"Perhaps it was not," I answered, "For now the Baron will know of us," I continued, clenching my fists. "But it was the right thing to do."
I shook my head.
"And in this place of injustice, every little bit of justice counts."
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
What Oath did that Paladin swear? The Oath of Brotherhood?
Man this story is straight up dope. Not a lot of "good" characters can stop mid battle at a cry of mercy.
I will be honest. Your making Helm my favorite god here.
I will be honest. Your making Helm my favorite god here.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
- Location
- Canada
Tempus is the best god, Fight me.
Sell me on them.
- Location
- Canada
With Tempus, if someone's being a jerk you can just punch them in the face.
Clearly the best God.
Heck even if someone's not being a jerk you can punch them in the face if you want to.
- Location
- Charlotte, NC
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
My favorite god has been Olidammara ever since I read this revised intrepetation made for a homebrew world.
My pantheon's take on Olidammara"
My pantheon's take on Olidammara"
Ravenloft - Chapter Six - Argynvostholt
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Ravenloft - Chapter Six - Argynvostholt
The wine cellar wasn't a place where we could speak and keep warm for the rest of the night. Following Sir Godfrey's counsel, we sat in the room nearby, the fire crackling to life and warming for perhaps the first time my bones with something akin to real heat. I did not need to worry for my armor's conditioning, since it would never rust, nor fall prey to corrosion. The blade strapped to my belt was a sturdy bastard sword, capable of withstanding punishment, and while it didn't glimmer, it still held within the positive thrumming of magic.
I polished and smoothed the blade all the same, even though it was meaningless, because the common, repetitive act was a way to calm my mind buzzing with thoughts.
Ezmeralda sat down near the fire, her hands nearing it and rubbing fiercely against one another to quicken the rise of the heat through her limbs. "Can't believe what happened," she muttered, shaking her head. "Can't believe we're staying here for the rest of the night either."
"It is the safest place," Sir Godfrey spoke, "Vladimir...he is too lost in the bubble of his own hatred to see beyond his surroundings. The other spirits of the order will not move or seek us out unless provoked." The undead remained standing, his blue eyes on the door.
The one briefly rubbing his arms from nervousness was Savid, who had decided to take a plunge of courage in exchange for the warmth of a real fire. "This has been one strange night so far," he said with a deep breath. "Can't believe it's not a dream. I'm not dead, hallucinating the last bits of my life right?" he asked that, only for Ezmeralda to throw a loose piece of rubble in his direction.
He grabbed hold of it and clenched it tightly. "Feels real."
I took a small breath, and then glanced at the fire roaring in the chimney. There was a choice I had to make. It was an easy choice, in the end.
"What do you know of Evil?" I asked, glancing at them. "I do not speak of simple acts of selfishness. I speak of true, unblemished Evil. I speak of the dark whispers within the heads of the depraved, the sickening murmurs of monsters willing to suffocate infants in their cribs, I speak of things that wish ill for no reason but for a sick and twisted sense of pleasure." I took a deep breath, the air slightly chilly. "For that evil exists, and it is the power that gave the baron of this accursed realm his abilities."
Not one of the three members of my impromptu party interrupted me, feeling that I was not done with my explanation, and thus I continued. "Barovia exists within a demiplane, a demiplane is and yet is not, similar to the material plane. It shares similarities, but also great differences. The demiplane in question is called..." what was its name, again? "something I cannot remember," I answered truthfully, if with a sigh, "But the demiplane is split, if such a term is appropriate, into different regions of evil. Each falls under the purvey of a Dark Power, a force of primordial evil so great and terrifying, it should be treated as a God of its own land."
"You're speaking of Strahd?" Ezmeralda asked. "He's the strongest vampire for a reason, but if he's a god..." she bit her lip.
"No," I shook my head. "Do not confuse a puppet with the puppet-master," I answered. "The baron is a soul tortured for all eternity; fleetingly he awakens, seeks out his long lost love of his life, only to see it slip from his grasp at the very last moment," I glanced at the flames, "and then the cycle repeats, indefinitely, torturing him forever. He is as much of a powerful vampire as he is the most enslaved of prisoners."
"Everyone could tell you that the Baron's powerful," Savid acquiesced. "How does it even help knowing that? If he wanted to, he could just come in, drain our blood and kill us."
"Vampires can't cross a threshold unless invited in," Ezmeralda said. "If that much holds true, we are safe in here until the day breaks."
"How does that help us, this knowledge?" Sir Godfrey asked instead, looking at me.
I glanced beyond the fire, and raised an arm to make a gesture encompassing the whole room. "Everything is a test in the demiplane; a test whose conclusions hinge on being as righteous as possible, refusing any and all faltering in the pursue of the ideals of good and kindness. And everything is a trap, designed to lure those who are good of heart into the waiting jaws of monsters. It is a game you cannot win, and thus you must not play it." I tapped the side of my head. "And everything is also none of what I just said. Sometimes a wolf is just a wolf, a child is just a child, and sometimes they are not."
"Be careful thrice, then? I was already doing that," Ezmeralda scoffed, shrugging.
"And finally, once Strahd is defeated, for he will, inevitably be defeated," I continued, "the mists preventing us from leaving Barovia will lift. Life will return. For decades, even, if we are lucky. However," I held my breath ever so slightly, as if a cold, sharp gaze had settled on my neck with piercing intensity. "A new baron will take the place of the old one, and all will begin anew, again and again, until the sick that binds this land to its gruesome destiny isn't utterly unfettered." I glanced at all of them, now once more keenly listening in. "Barovia is a lost land. Lost to cruelty, evil and time. If abandoned, it will not pursue those that left it. But to truly cleanse the land, to truly bring about a miracle beyond all miracles," I shook my head, "the baron must renounce all of the power he has earned, acknowledge his wrongs, and accept the punishment he escaped from for so long."
"And how would you know of this?" Sir Godfrey asked. "Have others before you attempted this? Have they succeeded?"
"I have sworn never to lie, or conceal the truth. I will answer that I always knew, from the day I was born, of this realm. Perhaps it was my destiny to come here and render aid, and if so, I will walk forth even knowing what awaits. However the only one that can redeem the baron is the baron himself, and I do not see that happening," I bitterly smiled, "Thus, I will do my best to save those that can be saved." I glanced at Sir Godfrey, "So now that you know more, what do you think? Is the path ahead meant only for paladins and fools?" I chuckled as I said that, receiving a tinkling nervous chuckle from the platinum hilt's own thoughts.
"Count me in," Ezmeralda said after a brief moment of silence. "It puts things more in perspective, this kind of knowledge, but it doesn't change anything. The baron has to go, and if he'll be back, at least we'll know and prepare accordingly."
"I swore, and even if I had not sworn, I still would swear again," Sir Godfrey acquiesced, "the devil's foolishness has led this country and its people to ruin, and even more so I must now redeem my order's honor; for otherwise, they will forever be stuck in an unending cycle of hatred."
The elf swallowed nervously. "I'm just a passerby," he muttered, "But, you know, if the fog drops...I'll be leaving faster than a flying arrow. I'll share the information with the other elves, but you shouldn't speak of this publicly in the streets. The Barovians will call you mad." He passed a hand through his hair, "Not that my fellows won't call me mad too, though. I mean, all of this? Damnation, it's a lot to take in."
I nodded slowly. "Yes, but now you know. And knowledge is quite the powerful weapon against those who would seek you harm." I smiled. "Use it well."
There was a caw, which easily startled everyone to turn to the sight of the door. From outside, a crow fluttered in and landed with incredible poise back on my shoulder. "You took your time, Raven," I said with a sigh. Then I furrowed my brows. "That is, if you're Raven and not some other crow. I'm sorry, but I can't seem to discern you all."
"All right, this is enough strange stuff for tonight," Ezmeralda muttered, raising both hands in silent defeat. "Who's making the turns for the night?"
"Rest," Sir Godfrey acquiesced. "I will hold guard until the day breaks. I swear," he thumped his gauntlet against his broken chainmail, "They shall not pass as long as I hold vigil."
The next morning would come.
And it would come bearing gifts.
"Someone left a carriage outside," Ezmeralda said with a frown. We stepped out to come face to face with such a cart, the pale sun barely shining through the haze. On the back of the carriage was a coffin. I neared, Godfrey quietly flanking me. Atop it, someone had etched Shade of Shallowbrook.
"What a thoughtful gift," I commented as I grabbed the sides of the coffin and gently pushed it down on the road. It trembled a bit, as if something inside wished to leave. I didn't open it, and instead turned towards the head of the cart, "We have ourselves a cart, men."
"We also don't have a horse," Ezmeralda dryly remarked.
I knelt, and somehow Godfrey mimicked my motion. Something tethered at the far distances of my mind. It tethered and then it pulled. It sprung and coiled and finally, in an instant that stretched for a few minutes at most, two loud neighs echoed from the distance of the forest.
Two skeletal horses appeared, both trotting near, their eyes crimson dots of energy. Yet, there was no evil within them. They were skeletal horses, they were undead, but they were not evil. They simply were.
"I've-I've got to hurry back, and look for the girl," Savid said, wary of the undead horses. I nodded to him, and gestured at the horse I had called forth. "N-No, I'll walk," he insisted.
"We will cover more ground if you take a horse and we proceed by cart," I continued. "You can look further, and we can look closer. Where was she last seen?"
It was then that Savid's skin took a turn for the pale.
He had, perhaps, forgotten a very important thing.
I was a Paladin of Helm, and there was a missing child.
If he thought he could give me the slip until the child was found, then he would be sorely mistaken.
The wine cellar wasn't a place where we could speak and keep warm for the rest of the night. Following Sir Godfrey's counsel, we sat in the room nearby, the fire crackling to life and warming for perhaps the first time my bones with something akin to real heat. I did not need to worry for my armor's conditioning, since it would never rust, nor fall prey to corrosion. The blade strapped to my belt was a sturdy bastard sword, capable of withstanding punishment, and while it didn't glimmer, it still held within the positive thrumming of magic.
I polished and smoothed the blade all the same, even though it was meaningless, because the common, repetitive act was a way to calm my mind buzzing with thoughts.
Ezmeralda sat down near the fire, her hands nearing it and rubbing fiercely against one another to quicken the rise of the heat through her limbs. "Can't believe what happened," she muttered, shaking her head. "Can't believe we're staying here for the rest of the night either."
"It is the safest place," Sir Godfrey spoke, "Vladimir...he is too lost in the bubble of his own hatred to see beyond his surroundings. The other spirits of the order will not move or seek us out unless provoked." The undead remained standing, his blue eyes on the door.
The one briefly rubbing his arms from nervousness was Savid, who had decided to take a plunge of courage in exchange for the warmth of a real fire. "This has been one strange night so far," he said with a deep breath. "Can't believe it's not a dream. I'm not dead, hallucinating the last bits of my life right?" he asked that, only for Ezmeralda to throw a loose piece of rubble in his direction.
He grabbed hold of it and clenched it tightly. "Feels real."
I took a small breath, and then glanced at the fire roaring in the chimney. There was a choice I had to make. It was an easy choice, in the end.
"What do you know of Evil?" I asked, glancing at them. "I do not speak of simple acts of selfishness. I speak of true, unblemished Evil. I speak of the dark whispers within the heads of the depraved, the sickening murmurs of monsters willing to suffocate infants in their cribs, I speak of things that wish ill for no reason but for a sick and twisted sense of pleasure." I took a deep breath, the air slightly chilly. "For that evil exists, and it is the power that gave the baron of this accursed realm his abilities."
Not one of the three members of my impromptu party interrupted me, feeling that I was not done with my explanation, and thus I continued. "Barovia exists within a demiplane, a demiplane is and yet is not, similar to the material plane. It shares similarities, but also great differences. The demiplane in question is called..." what was its name, again? "something I cannot remember," I answered truthfully, if with a sigh, "But the demiplane is split, if such a term is appropriate, into different regions of evil. Each falls under the purvey of a Dark Power, a force of primordial evil so great and terrifying, it should be treated as a God of its own land."
"You're speaking of Strahd?" Ezmeralda asked. "He's the strongest vampire for a reason, but if he's a god..." she bit her lip.
"No," I shook my head. "Do not confuse a puppet with the puppet-master," I answered. "The baron is a soul tortured for all eternity; fleetingly he awakens, seeks out his long lost love of his life, only to see it slip from his grasp at the very last moment," I glanced at the flames, "and then the cycle repeats, indefinitely, torturing him forever. He is as much of a powerful vampire as he is the most enslaved of prisoners."
"Everyone could tell you that the Baron's powerful," Savid acquiesced. "How does it even help knowing that? If he wanted to, he could just come in, drain our blood and kill us."
"Vampires can't cross a threshold unless invited in," Ezmeralda said. "If that much holds true, we are safe in here until the day breaks."
"How does that help us, this knowledge?" Sir Godfrey asked instead, looking at me.
I glanced beyond the fire, and raised an arm to make a gesture encompassing the whole room. "Everything is a test in the demiplane; a test whose conclusions hinge on being as righteous as possible, refusing any and all faltering in the pursue of the ideals of good and kindness. And everything is a trap, designed to lure those who are good of heart into the waiting jaws of monsters. It is a game you cannot win, and thus you must not play it." I tapped the side of my head. "And everything is also none of what I just said. Sometimes a wolf is just a wolf, a child is just a child, and sometimes they are not."
"Be careful thrice, then? I was already doing that," Ezmeralda scoffed, shrugging.
"And finally, once Strahd is defeated, for he will, inevitably be defeated," I continued, "the mists preventing us from leaving Barovia will lift. Life will return. For decades, even, if we are lucky. However," I held my breath ever so slightly, as if a cold, sharp gaze had settled on my neck with piercing intensity. "A new baron will take the place of the old one, and all will begin anew, again and again, until the sick that binds this land to its gruesome destiny isn't utterly unfettered." I glanced at all of them, now once more keenly listening in. "Barovia is a lost land. Lost to cruelty, evil and time. If abandoned, it will not pursue those that left it. But to truly cleanse the land, to truly bring about a miracle beyond all miracles," I shook my head, "the baron must renounce all of the power he has earned, acknowledge his wrongs, and accept the punishment he escaped from for so long."
"And how would you know of this?" Sir Godfrey asked. "Have others before you attempted this? Have they succeeded?"
"I have sworn never to lie, or conceal the truth. I will answer that I always knew, from the day I was born, of this realm. Perhaps it was my destiny to come here and render aid, and if so, I will walk forth even knowing what awaits. However the only one that can redeem the baron is the baron himself, and I do not see that happening," I bitterly smiled, "Thus, I will do my best to save those that can be saved." I glanced at Sir Godfrey, "So now that you know more, what do you think? Is the path ahead meant only for paladins and fools?" I chuckled as I said that, receiving a tinkling nervous chuckle from the platinum hilt's own thoughts.
"Count me in," Ezmeralda said after a brief moment of silence. "It puts things more in perspective, this kind of knowledge, but it doesn't change anything. The baron has to go, and if he'll be back, at least we'll know and prepare accordingly."
"I swore, and even if I had not sworn, I still would swear again," Sir Godfrey acquiesced, "the devil's foolishness has led this country and its people to ruin, and even more so I must now redeem my order's honor; for otherwise, they will forever be stuck in an unending cycle of hatred."
The elf swallowed nervously. "I'm just a passerby," he muttered, "But, you know, if the fog drops...I'll be leaving faster than a flying arrow. I'll share the information with the other elves, but you shouldn't speak of this publicly in the streets. The Barovians will call you mad." He passed a hand through his hair, "Not that my fellows won't call me mad too, though. I mean, all of this? Damnation, it's a lot to take in."
I nodded slowly. "Yes, but now you know. And knowledge is quite the powerful weapon against those who would seek you harm." I smiled. "Use it well."
There was a caw, which easily startled everyone to turn to the sight of the door. From outside, a crow fluttered in and landed with incredible poise back on my shoulder. "You took your time, Raven," I said with a sigh. Then I furrowed my brows. "That is, if you're Raven and not some other crow. I'm sorry, but I can't seem to discern you all."
"All right, this is enough strange stuff for tonight," Ezmeralda muttered, raising both hands in silent defeat. "Who's making the turns for the night?"
"Rest," Sir Godfrey acquiesced. "I will hold guard until the day breaks. I swear," he thumped his gauntlet against his broken chainmail, "They shall not pass as long as I hold vigil."
The next morning would come.
And it would come bearing gifts.
"Someone left a carriage outside," Ezmeralda said with a frown. We stepped out to come face to face with such a cart, the pale sun barely shining through the haze. On the back of the carriage was a coffin. I neared, Godfrey quietly flanking me. Atop it, someone had etched Shade of Shallowbrook.
"What a thoughtful gift," I commented as I grabbed the sides of the coffin and gently pushed it down on the road. It trembled a bit, as if something inside wished to leave. I didn't open it, and instead turned towards the head of the cart, "We have ourselves a cart, men."
"We also don't have a horse," Ezmeralda dryly remarked.
I knelt, and somehow Godfrey mimicked my motion. Something tethered at the far distances of my mind. It tethered and then it pulled. It sprung and coiled and finally, in an instant that stretched for a few minutes at most, two loud neighs echoed from the distance of the forest.
Two skeletal horses appeared, both trotting near, their eyes crimson dots of energy. Yet, there was no evil within them. They were skeletal horses, they were undead, but they were not evil. They simply were.
"I've-I've got to hurry back, and look for the girl," Savid said, wary of the undead horses. I nodded to him, and gestured at the horse I had called forth. "N-No, I'll walk," he insisted.
"We will cover more ground if you take a horse and we proceed by cart," I continued. "You can look further, and we can look closer. Where was she last seen?"
It was then that Savid's skin took a turn for the pale.
He had, perhaps, forgotten a very important thing.
I was a Paladin of Helm, and there was a missing child.
If he thought he could give me the slip until the child was found, then he would be sorely mistaken.
- Location
- Canada
I'm reasonably sure that a sufficient number of high-level clerics, druids, bards, or wizards could do something to prevent Barovia from resetting the way it does.
Thanatos757
Captain of the Four Knights
It depends. You don't just have people like that lying around, the truly high level people tend to be wrapped up in their own issues and duties. Like, yeah, Elminster and Khelben Blackstaff could probably do something about Barovia, but it would take a while and that's time not spent keeping an eye on the other stuff they're keeping in check. It's the same for high level Clerics and Druids who are probably keeping a lid on various undead and aberrations, among other things like fiends.
So instead of the nuclear option of several level 20 characters, gods like Helm who wish to save Barovia have to be a bit subtler about it, use the lower level agents like Shade to try and enact change. You can end up with a similar result of fixing Barovia without compromising the defense against other critical threats and the dark masters of Barovia can't pull out their own nuclear options in response.
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- Location
- Canada
I guess, just seems like that Risks Acecerak or some other big bad taking the place over and using it for unspeakable evil or something along those lines.