Session 20

For the first time in weeks, nobody dreamed of anything.

Brabara, who’d been up with Tiny for most of the night, spent the morning poking around local equipment shops in search of a more powerfully enchanted weapon. She did manage to find a vendor well stocked in magical items and her success inspired the rest of them to try and find better arms and equipment.

Once they were all back at the sanctuary, Mordenkainen called everyone together.

“I have located the fourth rod piece,” Mordenkainen said. “It can be found in a place called Barovia.”

Xalen gasped. “Barovia, you say?”

Mordenkainen nodded. “I see you have heard of it. A dark place, one of the so-called Dread Realms.”

“When will the portal be configured?” Ebyn asked. “Some of us will need time to attune to the items we purchased today.”

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.” Mordenkainen said. “The Dread Realms are controlled by a group of beings known as the Dark Powers. An enigmatic bunch of which little is known, and they are very particular regarding who is permitted to enter their domains.”

“I see,” Seknafret said. “What does that mean for our quest?”

“I am certain that we will be able to configure the portal to allow entry to Barovia,” Mordenkainen said. “As yet I have not figured a way that will allow any of you to leave the place.”

“Perhaps I could assist with your research?” Ebyn offered.

Mordenkainen nodded. “Quite so. But there is more. Your arrival in Barovia will no doubt catch the attention of that realm’s Dark Lord, the vampire Strahd Von Zarovich. He is known to play games with any who enter his domain.”

“Does he have the rod piece?” Brabara asked.

“I don’t believe so,” Mordenkainen said. “My studies indicate that the artifact is in a location within the village of Barovia, not the castle. If Strahd did have the item, it is almost certain it would be at the castle.”

“That’s good news, I guess,” Xalen said.

“How is Tasha faring?” Seknafret asked.

“Unchanged, I expect,” Mordenkainen said. “In truth, I’m not sure. I have been focused on the matter at hand.”

Seknafret nodded. “I may check in her later. I have experience with healing.”

Mordenkainen glanced at Seknafret, his face betraying a momentary flicker of annoyance. “I am sure Alustriel will appreciate your assistance. Now, there’s plenty of work to do. Ebyn, please come with me to the library.”

---

A second night passed, again without dreams.

Even after two nights, their stress and tension had eased. The oppressive weight of their burden no longer seemed insurmountable, and a glimmer of hope flickered.

For Brabara, having Tiny with her made a huge difference. Xalen was excited at the prospect of visiting Barovia and maybe getting answers to the questions about his past, while Ebyn was pleased to have a new puzzle to solve, a new line of research to keep his ever-curious mind engaged.

Seknafret, however, seemed troubled. She expected that the sunless land of Barovia would prove challenging. Her natural affinity for light and radiance might be tested by a place ruled by an immortal vampire. She found Alustriel as she exited the room where Tasha lay.

“How is she going?” Seknafret said.

Alustriel shook her head. “Not well. I can’t explain it, even after your help yesterday she seems worse today. There’s no logical reason it should be like this.”

“Perhaps she is dealing with more than just the debilitating effects of Athas’ dark sun,” Seknafret said. “A disease, or the effect of some curse.”

Alustriel shrugged. “If that is true then it is unlike anything I’ve seen before. We have tried various healing spells, both arcane and divine.”

Seknafret thought for a moment. “You said that Athas leeches life from arcane spellcasters, right?”

“That is correct, yes,” Alustriel said.

“Perhaps magic cannot be used to treat an affliction that was caused from using magic,” Seknafret said. “Maybe you will have better results with mundane treatments or herbs.”

Alustriel gasped. “Of course. Seknafret, that is inspired. I have become so reliant on using magic that I failed to consider alternatives. Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” Seknafret said. “But… there is something I hope you can do for me.”

“What is that?”

“I need the sun,” Seknafret said. “Would it be possible to open the portal to the Anauroch so I can replenish myself for a few hours. Sigil has no sun, in Eberron it was constantly shrouded in mist, and I imagine Barovia will be similar. Without exposure I feel … less than myself.”

Alustriel placed an arm on Seknafret’s shoulder. “Of course, Seknafret. Come, Anauroch awaits.”

---

The following day, after another dreamless sleep, Mordenkainen gathered everyone together again.

“I have solved the problem with the portal,” Mordenkainen said. “With Ebyn’s help, of course.”

Ebyn smiled and inclined his head.

“As I said last time,” Mordenkainen began. “The problem is not getting there; it is coming back. We can open the portal from here without issue, but the Dark Powers will not allow it to be kept open for long. I have determined that a connection between the realms must be maintained to prevent it from closing.”

“How will we do that?” Brabara asked.

“I will accompany you to Barovia,” Mordenkainen said. “I will remain by the portal to keep the connection stable while you retrieve the rod piece.”

“You’re sure this will work?” Xalen said.

Mordenkainen nodded. “I am, but I do ask that you not tarry too long in your quest. The portal will undoubtedly attract the attention of the Dark Lord, and I do not relish the idea of facing the vampire alone.”

“Why not have Alustriel come with you?” Brabara said.

“She is needed to tend to Tasha,” Mordenkainen said. “Fear not, friends. I am not without power and can handle myself. I just ask that we remain focused on our goal.”

“When do we leave?” Xalen asked.

“The portal will be configured in a couple of hours,” Mordenkainen said. “I suggest you make ready now.”

---

Alustriel and Tasha came to bid them farewell.

Tasha, her cheeks sunken and with dark rings under her eyes, leaned against Alustriel for support. She was barely aware of her surroundings.

Xalen leaned close to Ebyn. “She looks terrible,” he whispered.

“Indeed,” Ebyn said trying his best not to stare. “Remind me never to visit Athas.”

The portal glowed with a swirl of magic and Mordenkainen stepped through first, followed by Brabara, then Ebyn, and Xalen. Seknafret lingered behind a moment to squeeze Tasha’s hand before following the others through.

They arrived in the middle of a clearing surrounded by tall pines that stretched as far as they could see to the east, west, and north. Jagged snow-capped mountains lined the horizon to the south, with a few thin lines of smoke rising into the iron-grey clouds in that direction. The day was overcast, and a light wind carried a chill that spoke of future snow.

A game trail led from the clearing into the trees and the sounds of the forest surrounded them. Birds of prey circled in the skies above, as leaves and pine needles rustled with passing game. Now and then, a wolf howled in the distance.

It was a beautiful place if one could set aside the deep dread that settled upon the group as soon as they passed through the portal.

Ebyn recognized a look of concentration on Mordenkainen’s face as he undertook the mundane task of setting up camp.

“Where to?” Ebyn asked, while Mordenkainen expertly hammered a tent peg into the ground.

“That game trail should take you to a road heading north and south,” the archmage said without breaking his rhythm. “Follow the road south until you reach the town of Barovia. The fourth rod piece is there – in a building known as the Death House.”

“Barovia?” Brabara said. “Is it the capital of this realm?”

“No,” Mordenkainen shook his head and moved to another tent peg. “Despite the name it is little more than a village. There are much bigger cities in the land, it takes its name for its proximity to the mountain where the Dark Lord’s castle is built.”

Seknafret frowned. “Why would such an artifact be in a tiny village rather than in the possession of the lord?”

Mordenkainen slammed the hammer down, driving the tent peg deep with only a single blow. “Be thankful that it is,” he said, then began to expertly thread poles through loops sewn into the canvas. “Perhaps he doesn’t yet know it is here, perhaps he has no interest in it, or perhaps he uses it as a lure to bring adventurers to this realm for his amusement.” Mordenkainen shrugged. “The reason is not important. The rod piece is where it is, and we must retrieve it.”

Ebyn watched as Mordenkainen finished setting up the tent.

“I am curious,” Ebyn began, “why don’t you simply use magic to create a Tiny Hut? It is far simpler and will afford you greater protection than this canvas tent can ever hope to provide.”

“Quite right, Ebyn.” Mordenkainen stood and stretched with a smile. “But I find I prefer the feel of wind on my face. The hut has its uses but given the choice I like being able to experience my surroundings. As you get older, Ebyn, you’ll one day come to realise that power can become a crutch. Sometimes it’s better to live simply.”

“Is everyone ready?” Brabara said, a familiar impatience in her tone. “Let’s get moving.”

The Succulent Juices left Mordenkainen’s camp and followed the game trail he indicated. The narrow path wended its way between the tall trees for just over a mile before they reached the road which cut a wide path from north to south through the forest.

Turning south, the party followed the road. Despite its width, and excellent condition, the road didn’t carry much traffic and even after two hours the group did not see a single other traveller.

It was mid-afternoon when they reached the signpost.

Covered with vines, the weathered wooden pole emerged from the greenery at the side of the road, its single arm pointing west toward an overgrown path that led into the forest.

Xalen gasped, peering up at the faded writing on the sign. “It can’t be?”

“Did you find something?” Brabara asked. “Is Barovia that way?”

Xalen fished around his shirt collar to pull out the ornate key Slippery Pete had given him. Looking at the decorative “V” worked into the key he held it up to the sign and saw a similar symbol written there. “Um… everyone… there’s something I’d like us to do.”

Ebyn opened his mouth to say something, but Brabara put her fingers to his lips. “Not now, Ebyn,” she said pressing firmly. “What is it, Xalen?”

Xalen took a deep breath. “You remember how I told you about Slippery Pete, and how he found me amid the spoils of a caravan that he and his crew had ambushed?”

The group nodded.

“Well, just before all this mess started, I caught up with him again and he gave me some other things that he said were wrapped up in my blankets.” Xalen held up the key. “This key, a large raven’s feather, and a small vial of a dark liquid – possibly blood.” He looked at each of his companions earnestly before continuing. “I found out that the raven feather is from a type that exists only in Barovia, and now … this ornate V symbol on the key matches what is on that sign.” Xalen could barely keep the excitement from his voice. “We need to follow that road and see what is there. This could tell me who my family is.”

Ebyn stepped back from Brabara’s fingers. “Is this really what we should be doing now? The multiverse is at stake.”

Xalen didn’t wait for Ebyn to finish. He walked off the road and down the path indicated by the sign.

“I know this is important to you,” Ebyn continued, raising his voice after the departing Xalen, “but perhaps once we are successful, we can return here and find out more then.”

Brabara stood looking at Ebyn flatly for a moment before shaking her head and following Xalen down the overgrown path, leaving him and Seknafret alone.

Ebyn turned to her, “You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

Seknafret sighed and laid a hand on Ebyn’s shoulder. “Of course, but I don’t think Xalen wants to listen to your logic right now. This is important to Xalen, so we should be there to support him.”

“But…” Ebyn began but stopped with a resigned sigh. “Fine, but I’ll consult the auguries before we do anything that could jeopardize the mission.”

“That’s fair,” Seknafret said and the pair followed Xalen and Brabara.

The path emerged from the forest after a hundred yards and opened onto a rolling set of hills planted with rows and rows of grape vines. A tall stone mansion at the top of a hill overlooked the vineyard and the path continued up toward it.

The home had seen better days. Chunks of masonry had fallen from the walls all around the perimeter, and it looked as though an entire wing had collapsed.

The group continued up to the building where the path made a circle before a set of impressive stone steps leading up to a surprisingly solid-looking wooden door. A statue of a dragon atop a stone plinth stood at the centre of the circle with the stylized V on a plaque at its base.

“Vaashti” the word below the V said, carved into the lichen covered stone.

Xalen took out his key and strode up the steps to the door.

“Wait!” Ebyn called.

The young thief ignored his companion’s warning and thrust the key in the lock before turning it with an audible click.

“Please, Xalen, wait,” Ebyn called out again. “Let’s not walk blindly into danger. We should take the time to prepare in case dangers lurk within. I know you’ve been waiting your whole life for this but for the sake of a few minutes please stay near me.”

Xalen nodded.

Ebyn let out a relieved breath. “First I will perform an augury and then I’ll link us telepathically.”

Xalen scoffed. “An augury? Really?”

“Yes, we must know if this action will jeopardize our greater mission.” Ebyn said.

“Call me when it’s time to do the telepathic bond,” Xalen said, then pushed the door open and stepped inside the ruined building.

Brabara followed Xalen inside while Ebyn prepared to perform the divination ritual.

Seknafret held back a moment. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” she said and walked inside, leaving Ebyn alone at the foot of the stone steps.

Inside, dust and darkness created an oppressive sense of doom.

The mansion must once have been opulent. Damaged remains of high-quality furniture littered the floor and dust covered polished marble hinted at wealth from better days. The entrance hall was large, two levels high with a balcony around the edge accessed by an elegant wooden staircase that rose at the rear of the room.

The steps split at a landing partway up allowing access to both sides of the balcony. A body lay on that landing; its humanoid form dressed in leather armour with a spear thrust through its back, pinning the figure to the floor.

Xalen pointed at the body. Brabara shook her head, pointing instead toward the doors granting access to rooms on this level. Xalen nodded and let Brabara take the lead as they moved from room to room.

To the south, the walls of the building had collapsed exposing the rooms to the elements and to the rear was a chapel dedicated to some unknown god. Another few bodies lay here; all dressed in leather armour with the stylized V embossed on the chest.

“What happened here?” Brabara said after finding more bodies in the rooms to the north side of the house.

“An attack of some kind?” Xalen said.

Brabara snorted. “Clearly, but don’t you find it strange that there are no bodies here belonging to the attackers.”

Xalen shrugged. “Could be any number of reasons for that.”

“None of them good,” Brabara said.

Outside, Ebyn had completed the augury ritual and spoke his question to the gods. “O wise Mystra, I humbly seek your guidance. We stand at the threshold of a house most peculiar, its air thick with mystery and riddles. Will venturing into Xalen's mysterious estate aid us in securing the fourth piece of the Rod of Seven Parts, or shall it lead us astray, wasting our time, resources and efforts? Reveal unto us, in your boundless wisdom, the course that best serves our mission, so we may not falter in our quest.”

The offering was consumed in a spiral of divine fire and, a heartbeat later, the answer formed in Ebyn’s mind. “Clarity in one’s past is always of benefit for providing focus in future endeavours. Doubt breeds doubt that can lead to errors. Thus, the removal of doubt can only help your quest.”

Satisfied, Ebyn called out to Seknafret, who remained standing by the doorway. “Call them back. They need to be nearby for the link to work.”

The others returned outside while Ebyn cast the spell, and after ten minutes the group were linked telepathically and returned inside to explore further.

This time, they climbed the stairs to the second floor, and toward the top they spotted a mound of thick dust piled against a door on the balcony. The dust had a vaguely organic look to it.

“Looks like a kind of fungus,” Ebyn said. “Best we keep our distance, or risk creating a choking cloud of spores.”

Xalen shuddered. “I hate spores. Remember that orange cloud in the dungeon a few months back.”

“More effective than any guard,” Seknafret added.

Ebyn nodded. “Let’s move up there. I can burn it from range.”

As soon as the first flaming bolt entered the mound, a horrible clicking squeal emerged from it as the pile coalesced into an enormous shambling humanoid shape. The giant monster lurched upright with a series of loud clicks and chirps that echoed from the stone walls of the interior.

Brabara squealed as the thing came at them, stepping forward to place herself between it and her companions. The thing leapt across the balcony to land with a loud thwack on the landing before her, giant meaty fists flailing as it tried to crush the seasoned fighter into the floor.

Xalen flew out into the air above the entry hall. He sent several shafts into the creature’s flesh with devastating effect, and the creature screeched loudly at each strike.

It glared at Xalen, red eyes glowing with hate, and made a series of loud clicks while skeletal fingers wriggled in an arcane pattern. In response, spectral figures rose from the many bodies that lay about the ruined building and joined the battle.

Cut off, and with multiple enemies, Ebyn and Seknafret placed their backs against the wall, hoping that Brabara could keep the massive fungus creature at bay while they used their magic to pick off the spectral warriors.

Despite their numbers, the ghostly figures were no match for their combined magic and fell in quick succession, leaving Xalen and Brabara free to deal with the fungus creature. The pair worked well together and soon that beast too was laid low.

Its body fell apart. Massive chunks of the thing slapped wetly on the floor around Brabara, showering her in gore. One chunk burst open as it landed and a cloud of fungal spores bloomed around her.

Brabara clapped a hand over her mouth and jumped backward, barely avoiding the noxious yellow cloud.

“See,” Xalen said landing beside Brabara. “Spores. They suck.”

They waited for the spore cloud to settle, then moved away from that side of the balcony to dress their wounds before resuming their exploration of the mansion.

Like the ground floor, this level showed hints of former opulence, but the finery had all been left to ruin and decay. The group navigated the various rooms, finding little of interest save a silver locket hidden among rotting bedding in what may once have been a master bedroom. The locket opened to show two faded portraits, an olive-skinned human woman and an elf male.

The third level was even more damaged than the two below, with parts of the roof having collapsed. The blood red sky from the setting sun, visible through the many holes, created a stark contrast to the gloom within.

Ebyn used Hoot to scout as far as he could. With his vision attached to the familiar, Ebyn saw a large skeletal figure slumped in an ornate chair surrounded by four armed and armoured figures in a large chamber at the centre of the building.

“Are they all clustered together? Seknafret asked once Ebyn explained what he’d seen.

“Yes, maybe a step or two apart,” Ebyn said. “Why?”

“I could trap them in a forcecage,” Seknafret said.

Ebyn shook his head. “We’re here to find information regarding Xalen’s heritage. Perhaps we might try and talk with these undead first, rather than initiate hostilities.”

“Good point,” Xalen said. “Let me try and talk with them.”

Xalen entered the room alone. None of the figures moved so he took a few steps closer to the chair where the skeletal figure sat.

“I am Xalen,” he said as he approached the ornate wooden chair.

The skeletal figure sat up, its grinning face turning to regard the young elf. “Yes. I can smell the blood of the betrayers on you, worm.”

“I’m not looking for any trouble,” Xalen added, keeping his arms raised palms facing the five figures.

Flames flared in the skeleton’s eyes. “And yet you have found it.”

Xalen shared his alarm telepathically with the group and Seknafret rounded the corner and immediately encased the five figures in a forcecage. The skeletal figure let out a loud chuckle before teleporting beyond the cage to stand behind Xalen, it’s ten-foot-tall body poking above the hole in the ceiling made by the collapsed roof.

The battle was joined and Brabara leapt to Xalen’s aid.

The four trapped figures pounded uselessly against the cage, but the massive skeleton brought its taloned claws to bear slashing at Xalen. The nimble rogue did his best to avoid the blows, using his magical shield when needed to block any attacks he couldn’t dodge.

Another undead entered the room through a door opposite the group and uttered a series of arcane words causing the area to become shrouded in chilling darkness. Sibilant whispers emanating from the area within.

The darkness kept Ebyn and Seknafret from attacking at range, leaving Brabara and Xalen to face the giant skeleton blind and alone.

“I’ll try and get an angle on the spellcaster,” Ebyn shared over the telepathic bond as he takes gaseous form and floats away.

Seknafret backed out of the darkness to the stairwell and kept watch for any other opponents.

Ebyn floated around the area and spotted the spellcaster taking cover behind an upturned bookcase. He floated across to reform behind the undead wizard to unleash his disintegration magic upon the creature.

The spellcaster was reduced to dust and the darkness winked out.

Without its four guards, the lone skeleton proved no match for the two experienced warriors, and they were soon able to bring it down.

Now only the four trapped figures remained.

With a combination of powerful magic, Ebyn and Seknafret reduced the figures and the ornate throne to ash and the battle ended.

“What do you think ‘blood of the betrayer’ was about?” Xalen asked as they patched their wounds.

“Beats me,” Brabara said. “I’m not the one from around here.”

Xalen looked at her flatly. “I was an infant when Slippery Pete found me. I’m no more from around her than you, idiot.”

After a quick round of healing the group resumed its search.

The rooms of this level were similarly empty and damaged as those below but in the centre of the still intact northwest tower Xalen found a stone font filled with a dark liquid. On which was an inscription carved into the stone around the basin.

“Xaneel Ad Lamen Eld Nuata”

Ebyn immediately recognised it as a dialect of elvish, but it was not one he understood. Xalen, activated the magic of his helmet and the words coalesced into meaning.

“’From despair can come hope’, is what it says,” Xalen said, with a slight tremor to his words.

“Let me check if there are any magical auras in place here,” Ebyn said and set about casting his detect magic spells.

“This appears to be a kind of scrying pool,” Ebyn said once he’d completed his examination of the font. “I can detect divination magic here, but there is also a slight form of necromantic power at play too. If I were to guess I’d say you need a drop of blood, or something similar, to activate it.”

Xalen clutched at the vial of dark liquid Slippery Pete had given him. Perhaps with this he might finally have the answers he had been looking for. He removed the stopper from the vial and held the container over the pool to allow a drop or two of the liquid to fall.

The liquid in the font rippled as the drops landed and its mirror black surface began to swirl. Outside, through the small window in the tower, they could see a brief flash followed by an intense beam of white light that seemed almost to cut the sky as it burst from the roof of a building at the edge of the graveyard. The beam shone for several heartbeats before fading.

Xalen looked back down at the font.

The surface had changed to show a scene of a dark-haired human woman standing next to a tall pale-skinned male elf. The way the pair looked at one another made it clear the two were in love.

Then the scene changed, showing that same couple taking part in a ceremony, their left hands were bound by a velvet cord while a priest performed some kind of blessing upon them.

The scene changed again, this time showing only the woman, her belly swollen in pregnancy.

Another change showed the couple again, holding a pair of newborn babies, a boy and a girl.

The scene changed again to show the babies being placed inside two different carriages. There was some urgency about the way that the couple moved that hinted at an unseen danger.

The scene changed again, now showing the couple fighting off attackers while the wagons trundle away in the distance.

The visions ended, and the surface of the font went black once more.

 “Your parents, perhaps?” Ebyn suggested having watched the scenes unfold over Xalen’s shoulder.

“I imagine so,” said Xalen, his voice having a breathless quality. “I wonder if they survived the attack?”

“Someone had to set up this font,” Ebyn pointed out. “It’s possible that one or both could still be alive.”

Xalen nodded. “And I have a sister.”

“Indeed, and as soon as our mission to save the multiverse is successful, I will use every resource I have to help you find her.”

Xalen looked up at Ebyn. “Thank you. I mean it.”

Outside, the sun had set, and a thunderstorm had rolled in. They were still several miles away from the village, so the group decided to set up camp in the ruined mansion for the night. Ebyn used his magic to create what he hoped would be a haven for them all, replete with comfortable beds, and bountiful food. But the sinister nature of this realm corrupted the magic, and they were attacked by one of the spectral servants as soon as they entered.

The fight, if it could be called such, was over in seconds, but it was clear that there would be no succour found within.

“Maybe that’s why Mordenkainen didn’t use magic for his own shelter,” Seknafret said as they prepared a mundane camp.

Ebyn frowned. “Would have been nice if he’d explained that rather than giving me the ‘power is a crutch’ speech.”

Seknafret chuckled. “In any case, I can create a sentinel to keep watch over us tonight. It will alert me should anything unexpected happen.”

The group rested while lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and wind and rain lashed the house. But beneath the sound of the storm, they could all hear a beautiful singing that seemed to tug at their minds. The song was quiet at first, and infrequent, but as the night wore on the hauntingly familiar and enticing sound grew louder.

Xalen rose from his bedroll and made his way toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Brabara said, getting up and moving to block his passage.

“I need the toilet,” Xalen said without a hint of deception or artifice in his voice. “Unless you’d prefer I do it in here?”

Ebyn and Seknafret had also risen, the pair eyeing Xalen suspiciously.

“It’s cold wet and blowing a gale out there,” Brabara said placing a hand on Xalen’s shoulder to keep him from moving. “I’m sure you can hold it at least until the storm blows over.”

“Don’t think so,” Xalen said with a shrug and tried to press past. “It’s rather urgent.”

Xalen pushed against Brabara, but the big warrior’s strength and bulk kept the slender rogue from going anywhere.

“You’re sure it has nothing to do with that lovely music we’ve been hearing?” Brabara said, setting her feet now that Xalen’s efforts grew more earnest.

“Of course not,” Xalen insisted. “Now get out of my way. You’re being ridiculous.”

Ebyn touched the weave and attempted to remove whatever magical effect he thought Xalen was under, but nothing changed in the young rogue’s demeanour.

Xalen glared at Ebyn. “What are you doing?”

Just then, lightning flashed brightly, and everyone saw a woman’s face in the window – beautiful and sweet, its eyes seemed to stare right into everyone’s very soul.

Brabara froze, her attention drawn inward. She was back with Tiny, not in Sigil, though that had been sweet, from a time before his arrest. When she was happiest, just her, Tiny and their entire future before them.

Seknafret too froze, and in her mind, she witnessed the glorious moment when her people had finally restored the power of the veil between worlds. She whimpered as she imagined that moment, and the exultation she felt then would not be denied.

Only Ebyn remained unaffected, his focused mind proved too resilient. Even so, he had no answers for what had happened to the others, so he remained still and watched.

Xalen, now free of Brabara’s block, opened the door and stepped out of the room. The beautiful music filled his mind, and he had to find the source. He spotted a female figure perched on the edge of the collapsed roof above him and turned toward the stairs.

With the door now open, a flock of vicious looking birds swept into the room. Seknafret’s sentinel blasted many of them, but their numbers were so great it made little difference. The nasty creatures attached themselves to the unmoving forms of Seknafret and Brabara, sinking long needle like beaks into their flesh to begin feasting on their blood.

The pain from their many wounds woke them from their vision, and they screamed in agony.

Ebyn too, had several birds harassing him but he managed to bat the bulk of them away with only one or two able to cling on.

With the veil lifted the Succulent Juices sprang to action. They could see they were being attacked by a clutch of harpies using their siren song to fog their minds. Only Xalen remained affected, and he walked willingly toward their deadly embrace.

Brabara, Seknafret, and Ebyn dealt with the swarm quickly and moved out of the room to face the creatures.

Brabara triggered a rune and doubled in size so she could reach the nearest of the harpies through the broken roof, while Seknafret used her eldritch blasts to deadly effect. Ebyn’s firebolts lit the sky between flashes of lightning and in seconds the harpies decided to flee and seek easier prey elsewhere.

Unfortunately for Xalen, he’d borne the brunt of the creatures’ attacks, and he lay unmoving on the slippery roof with blood streaming from a multitude of cuts all over his body. Seknafret used her magic to heal the wounds, and the group resumed their rest.

---

The following morning, they completed their search of the mansion as well as the tower where the beam of light shone. The remaining rooms of the mansion proved as barren and damaged as the rest and turned up nothing of any real interest or value save one, a bedroom judging by what remained of the furniture. In a badly damaged coffer beside a rotting canopy bed, Xalen found an oilskin pouch holding a leatherbound journal. The pages were yellow with age but still readable, albeit written in a language Xalen had no knowledge of. He used the power of his helm to read the journal.

It told of a race of elves called Dusk Elves. A faction of elves who refused to take sides in the great schism that split the elf nation millennia ago when the followers of Lolth warred with the followers of Corellon. As such the Dusk Elves found themselves spurned and hated by both sides. Sehanine Moonbow took them under her protection and sequestered them away here before this place had become Barovia where they lived in peace for centuries.

In time one of the Dusk Elf females became enamoured of Strahd and sought to become his bride, but her brother kidnapped her from Strahd’s castle and brought her back to their people. Unfortunately, she had already been turned by Strahd so her family were forced to kill her.  

Strahd flew into a rage. He sent his minions out to kill the Dusk Elves who had betrayed him. He murdered all their women and cursed the males to be sterile so that their line would end with this generation.

Then, thirty years ago, a group of heroes became swallowed by the mists and managed to defeat Strahd, leaving the land without its dark lord for a time. Strahd’s absence caused the curse to weaken, and a dusk elf male was able to impregnate a human female.

When the children were born, twins, one male, one female, everyone became amazed that despite their mixed heritage, the pair were pure dusk elf. The curse had been broken, and a female dusk elf had been born for the first time in over a century.

Strahd’s agents became aware of the newborns, and despite the absence of the dark lord they sought to kill the children. So, their parents asked the Vistani to take them out beyond the mists where they might be safe.

“Holy shit,” Xalen said as he lowered the book. “This place is insane.”

“What do you mean?” Brabara asked.

“Strahd went completely nuts after one of my ancestors rescued his sister from his clutches,” Xalen explained. “He killed every female of my kind and cursed the men with sterility.”

Seknafret gasped. “A genocide.”

“Almost,” Xalen said. “After Strahd was killed by a party of adventurers, the curse lifted and I and my sister were born. The first children in a hundred years, and she the only living female of my species.”

“It’s a good thing your parents thought to have you escape this place,” Ebyn said. “Had you remained here you’d have spent your whole life being hunted. We should get about our mission so we can be away from here as soon as possible.”

Xalen nodded. “Yes, I reckon you’re right. Let’s just have a quick look around outside and then we’ll leave.”

The group went outside to the graveyard. This open plot of ground held twenty-two graves – the headstones on most of which shared the family name, Vaashti. Five of these graves had been dug up at some point in the past, the grass growing at their bottom suggested this happened a long time ago.

In the south-east corner of the graveyard a squat stone tower had been built. Only two levels high, and surprisingly intact considering the damage to the rest of the buildings. The strong metal bound door to the tower was locked but Xalen’s family key could unlock it.

The room beyond was empty save for a well-crafted statue of a dragon with its mouth wide, the head facing up at the ceiling, directly below a circular hole in the ceiling with a clear view of the iron-grey sky above.

Xalen used his winged boots to fly up to the mouth and look inside. A bowl shape depression within the gaping maw contained a white powder.

“There’s some kind of white powder in here,” Xalen said.

“Be careful,” Ebyn said. “Remember the white dust we encountered near Landro? It could have strange properties.”

Xalen peered closer. “This looks more like grains of sugar than dust. I’ll have the mage hand collect some.”

He cast the spell and removed a pinch of the powder, bringing it down for Ebyn to look at with his magical senses.

Ebyn touched the weave and studied the powder. “I’ve seen this type of thing before,” he said after a minute. “It’s crushed pearl, a common component in spells. It’s not magical itself but I get a faint sense of evocation magic about it. I’d say this is what remained after the actual magic consumed it.”

“That beam we all saw?” Brabara said.

Ebyn nodded. “Exactly. It triggered the moment Xalen activated the scrying pool. Clearly a signal of some kind.”

“Yes, but a signal to who?” Xalen said.

---

The party departed the mansion and resumed their walk along the wide, well-maintained yet empty road. They covered the remaining miles to the village of Barovia quickly and by mid-afternoon they crested a rise overlooking the town.

Barovia was a small village.

The road passed through the centre of town and continued to a great forest in the south. Small farms and other dwellings lined the road as well as a tavern, a few shops, and a stone church. Several lanes and alleys ran perpendicular to the road where other houses could be seen. But one house, much taller than the rest, stood out.

“What do you want to bet that is Death House,” Brabara said, pointing at that lone building.

Xalen chuckled. “Good luck finding anyone willing to take that bet.”

As the Succulent Juices entered the village, a small group of people built up around them, giving them openly hostile glares. At one point a burly looking farmer holding a steel pronged pitchfork stepped forward to block their passage.

“We don’t want your kind here,” he said. Thrusting the pitchfork in the air to emphasise his words.

“And what kind is that?” Seknafret asked, keeping her tone light.

“Strangers!” the man said with a shout. “We’ve had enough of them already.”

“We are not here to cause any trouble, friend” Seknafret said. “Just point the way to the Death House and we will be on our way.”

“See,” the man said, looking around as if to gain strength from the people around him. “They’re here for that damned cult, like the rest.”

Seknafret’s eyes widened. “Cult? What cult? We’re not part of any cult.”

The farmer’s grip on the pitchfork tightened and he aimed it toward the group. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“I assure you I do not,” Seknafret insisted. “If anything, I suspect that we might be here to put a stop to whatever this cult is doing.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re what?”

“We are on an important quest,” Seknafret explained. “There is a powerful magic item inside Death House that we need to put an end to a great evil. If the cult is using that item for evil, then we will stop them.”

A moment of silence followed as the man considered Seknafret’s words. “I see,” he said and lowered the pitchfork. “If you really do aim to stop the cult then we wish you nothing but luck.”

Seknafret smiled. “Thank you, good sir.” She turned to address the crowd. “All of you have shown great courage in standing up for your village in this way. You do your town justice.”

There were a few murmurs at Seknafret’s praise, and more than one face held an expression of pride.

“Death House is down that way,” the man with the pitchfork said, indicating the tall, lonely building the group had seen on the way into town. “But you should talk to Sarusanda at the church first, if you want to know more about the cult.”

“We will do that, friend. Thank you,” Seknafret said.

The mob dispersed, and the group made their way to the stone church. The building was squat, practical and without fuss. Thick wooden doors stood open, and a flickering light shone within.

“Wow,” Brabara said, peering at numerous deep gouges in the wood of the door. “What do you reckon made those?”

Ebyn shuddered. “Nothing good, I expect.”

The interior of the church matched the exterior. No gaudy symbols adorned the walls; no ostentatious display of wealth or the power of their god decorated the altar. Just a few rows of wooden pews where a person dressed all in grey knelt in prayer. A man in clerical robes stood by a simple stone table lighting candles as they entered.

The man looked up as the group waited by the doors. “No need to loiter,” the man said his voice a booming baritone. “Come in, if you’re able.”

The group filed in, and the man’s smile widened. “Welcome, strangers, to my humble house of worship.”

“What god is it you follow here?” Ebyn said.

“We are dedicated to Lathandar, the Morninglord,” the man said placing a curved finger over his heart before touching it to his mouth. “I am his humble servant.”

“We seek information about a cult that is active in this town,” Brabara said. “Can you tell us about it?”

The man’s eyes flicked across to the grey clad figure kneeling in the pews. “Oh yes, a terrible business that. Of course, I worry most about the children, Rose and Thorn.”

Brabara’s eyes widened. “Children?”

“Indeed,” the man said. “The parents, Gustav and Elisabeth, are rumoured to have found some kind of fabulous treasure a few months back.”

Seknafret nodded. “That may well be true. It’s likely to be a piece of an artifact that we need to put an end to a terrible and ancient evil.”

“That is good news,” the priest said. “The Dursts have always been an odd family, but ever since this so-called treasure came into their possession things have become decidedly worse. I hope they’ll return to normal once it is gone.”

“What do you mean by ‘odd family’?” Ebyn asked.

The priest thought about this for a moment. “Well, they weren’t exactly devout or regular attendees at service, but they did come occasionally and were always considered upstanding, albeit aloof, citizens of the village. But after finding whatever that treasure is, they stopped coming altogether and began preaching in worship to…” the man’s voice dropped to a whisper, “…the dark lord instead.”

“Go on,” said Brabara.

“Anyway, they managed to convince a few locals to join them in this madness, but recently we’ve had several newcomers arrive in town, and some of these have shown themselves to be very bad people.”

“Have you confronted the Dursts, yourself?”

“Of course I have!” The priest said sharply and stood up a little straighter. “As soon as I noticed they’d stopped coming to service I went over there to find out what is going on. I’ve been there several times since then, three days ago most recently.”

“And what happened?” Ebyn queried.

“I never get past the front door,” the man said with a shrug. “Now they don’t even bother answering when I call.”

“How did it become known as the Death House?” Seknafret asked.

The priest shuddered. “It’s had that name for years. Certainly before I became priest here. Accounts vary; some say it was the scene of a grisly murder, while others believe it may have been the home of an undertaker. Whatever the case, the name is very appropriate now.”

“Why is that?”

“Because of what goes on inside,” the man said. “Almost every night now, we can hear screams and other awful sounds coming from that place. It sounds like someone is getting murdered in there.”

Brabara gasped. “Have people from the village gone missing?”

“No more than normal,” the priest explained with a sheepish expression. “This is Barovia, you just have to expect such things.”

“Then who’s being killed each night?” Xalen asked.

The priest shrugged. “No clue. Maybe it’s animals, or maybe it’s just awful sounds, or maybe they’re bringing in people from outside. I just don’t know. It got so bad about three weeks ago that we had a mob of villagers go down to the house and set it on fire.”

“But the cult must have put out the flames,” Ebyn offered.

The priest shuddered again. “No. The place burned to the ground. Practically the whole village came out to watch it get reduced to ashes. There was a loud cheer when the stone chimney fell, but the next morning it was back. Fully rebuilt like nothing happened.”

“And the people?”

“Unharmed. Next day they were back to spewing their nonsense.”

The four companions looked at each other, not at all sure what to make of the story the man had shared.

“And the children?” Brabara said.

“Yes, well, I just worry that Rose and Thorn have been caught up in all this nonsense or worse, that they might come to harm because of it. As I said some of these newcomers seem like very bad people.”

“I’ve heard enough. Let’s go.” Brabara said then turned and started walking out the door.

The others followed her.

“If you see Rose and Thorn, tell them they will be safe here, should they need it,” the priest called after them.

They left the church and made their way across the village toward the Death House.

Xalen, ever watchful, noticed that the grey clad figure exited the church soon after and appeared to be following them.

“Wait,” Xalen said. “We have company.”

“That’s close enough,” Brabara said when the figure was roughly ten paces away. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

The figure reached up and pulled back the hood, revealing a dark-skinned woman’s face with piercing blue eyes. “I am Sarusanda, and I think we might be of use to each other.”

“How’s that?” Brabara said.

“I heard you tell Brother Delvin that you’re looking to recover an artifact and free the Durst family of its influence,” Sarusanda said.

“Yes, and?” Brabara said, taking a menacing step forward.

Sarusanda raised her hands. “I am looking to put an end to a terrible cult that’s started to take root here. I think we could help one another.”

“And what, you’ve just been waiting for us to get here before going in?” Brabara said with a sneer.

Sarusanda sighed. “Something like that, yes.”

“Explain yourself,” Brabara took note of the sword at the woman’s hip and the ornate silver clasp holding the long grey cloak. “And I suggest you don’t reach for anything sharp while doing it.”

“Of course,” Sarusanda kept her arms up palms out toward the group. “I am a member of the Ulmist Inquisition, an organisation dedicated to rooting out evil throughout the multiverse.”

Brabara scoffed. “Never heard of it.”

“I arrived in the village of Barovia a few days ago and have been gathering information on the cult before making my move.”

“Right, and the villagers just welcomed you with open arms instead of pitchforks,” Brabara interjected. “I don’t believe you.”

“The inquisition is known around these parts,” Sarusanda explained. “The church we just left holds a relic from one of our members from yesteryear. The villagers might not like me, but they trust the Inquisition, and they know I am not one of the cultists.”

Brabara huffed. “Okay, go on.”

“I realised that there was more going on here than I could safely handle alone,” Sarusanda said. “I was about to reach out to my colleagues for backup when you arrived on the scene. If we work together, I am sure we will prevail.”

“And the artifact?” Ebyn queried.

“You can take it, as long as it doesn’t end up in Strahd’s hands I have no interest in it.”

“What does the name Vecna mean to you?” Ebyn asked.

Sarusanda looked at him quizzically. “The arch-lich? I have heard of him, of course. No member of the Inquisition hasn’t, but what does that have to do with me?”

“We seek the artifact to thwart an imminent threat to the multiverse posed by Vecna,” Ebyn replied. “It seems strange that an organisation such as yours is not focused on the same goal.”

Sarusanda shrugged. “I am but one person, I am not the Inquisition. It is entirely possible that others of my order are doing just that. The multiverse faces many threats, often at the same time, and the Inquisition cannot be everywhere.”

Ebyn’s eyes searched her face for any hint of deception. Her words seemed reasonable, yet he felt that there was more she wasn’t saying. “Is it typical that your order sends agents to face such threats alone?”

Sarusanda’s face fell, and Ebyn knew his question had rattled her. “Fine,” she said finally. “I am not here at the Inquisition’s behest.”

Brabara straightened and brought her glaive up smartly.

“But, I am truly a member of the order,” Sarusanda said quickly. “In truth I am here for my own purposes. You see, my father is one of the cultists and I aim to see him dead.”

Seknafret gasped. “You would kill your own father?”

“I am ashamed to admit that I must,” Sarusanda lowered her head. “My father, Galias, joined the priests of Osybus, a group of necromancers who once served the Raven Queen before she betrayed them and cast them out.”

“Nonsense!” Ebyn said. “Undead are anathema to the Raven Queen. She would never have necromancers in her service.”

Sarusanda shook her head. “A common misconception, but understandable given your heritage.”

“What does that mean?” Ebyn said.

“The Raven Queen guards her reputation closely,” Sarusanda explained. “And from the Shadar-Kai most of all. It may be hidden, but the truth is out there should you decide to dig deeper. I have no reason to lie to you.”

Ebyn’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

Sarusanda continued. “Cut off from their magic, the priests of Osybus now steal the souls of others to fuel their wicked magic. I witnessed my father perform a terrible act in pursuit of his brotherhood and I am ashamed to admit that I let my familial ties get in the way of my duty.”

Brabara nodded. “Those closest to you are the ones who can hurt you most.”

“Rather than arrest him,” Sarusanda said after a moment. “I believed his lies and mistook his deception as genuine remorse. He has since gone on to commit many more terrible crimes, and the blood of all those innocents is on me.” Sarusanda looked up, her face a mask of grim determination. “I will not make that same mistake again.”

At the conclusion of her story, the box in Ebyn’s pouch clicked, and another secret lay within: “Sarusanda did not arrest her father when she had the chance.”

Ebyn nodded. “Okay, I believe you are telling us the truth.”

Sarusanda breathed deeply. “Thank you,” she said. “I have not admitted this truth to anyone. I trust that it will remain between us.”

“Right then,” Brabara hefted her glaive and turned to face the Death House. “Let’s go kick some cultist arse.”

The group, with Sarusanda in tow, made their way across the village and approached the building called the Death House. It was a well-made three-storey building of stone and wood with an attic beneath slate shingles. The windows were heavily barred, and a steel gate stood before a heavy wooden front door.

Two children stood outside the building, a young boy and girl. The boy appeared to have been weeping, and the girl had her arm over his shoulder protectively. The pair looked up as the group approached, red-rimmed eyes sporting fresh tears.

“Please,” the girl said as they neared. “There are monsters in our house. Mum and dad told us to play outside. They’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

Brabara drew close and dropped to a knee. “You must be Rose,” she began, “and you’re Thorn?”

“Thornboldt!” the boy corrected and buried his head in his sister’s side.

“Thornboldt,” Brabara repeated. “It’s nice to meet you both. Now what is this about monsters in your house?”

Rose sniffed. “Strange people, and even stranger noises. Mum and Dad don’t see it, but we know. It’s not safe for us there. Will you please make it safe?”

“We will,” said Brabara, “but you don’t have to stand out here in the dark. Do you know where the church is?”

Rose nodded. “Yes, we used to go there on weekends. It’s nice, and always so bright.”

“You should take your brother there now.” Brabara said gently. “Brother Devlin will look after you until its safe for you to come back. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Rose started to usher her brother in the direction of the church. “Please be careful and make sure that our nursemaid Brigetta is safe.”

The children walked to the church and the party turned its attention to the house. Ebyn sent his owl around the building taking note of the location of the windows and gauging the size of the interior while Xalen approached the steel gate with his lockpicks in hand.