Mist on the Horizon

Curse of Strahd
Session One
 
Ever since I arrived in Daggerford, I've noticed that the Southern Gate seems to be crowded with travelers or merchants of some type, their wagons circled. Daggerford Guards, however, keep any from getting too close which makes me wonder why. None of the guards seemed willing to answer my questions. Were these people dangerous? Nuisances?
 
It wasn't until later that night at Lady Morwen's soiree that I heard rumors of people disappearing from the road, not far from where the strange caravans were bivouacked. Even my inquiries with the Captain of the Duchess' Guard were met with little to no answers. He said that only Lady Morwen was privy to what was truly going on with the strangers and that she was only going to discuss the matter with select guests after the evening's festivities.
 
We rub elbows with the upper echelon of Daggerford, we dine, and then the throng slowly disperses; during that time the Lady's majordomo came around to myself and several others to ask that we meet Lady Morwen in her study. And so, several of us peel off to meet the Lady as requested. She tells us that she has a private matter to discuss, that everyone in the room was someone who had helped her in the past. She also says that she can trust us to operate with discretion.
 
I'm not sure yet how I feel about this party. They seem mostly like magic-users who will hang around in the back end of the field. There will be none I can rely on to have my back in melee. A fledgling mage, an "archaeologist", a cleric, and a pretty boy who seems more like an ornament than anything useful. I will have to look after myself on the field, since I'll mostly be fighting at the front alone. Color me unimpressed, but if Lady Morwen trusts them, then that must say something meritorious about them.
 
Our first task from Lady Morwen is to disperse the travelers outside the gates with the understanding that if they are not gone by dawn then the city guards will burn their wagons. Guards were sent previously to disperse them, but the Guards came back charmed by some manner of magic. Yet, none yet has attempted to even ascertain what these travelers want or need; they've caused trouble along the roads but have done no harm to anyone that any have reported.
 
Despite this being a band of soft-handed casters, they certainly seem gung-ho in bringing violence to these travelers without so much as provocation. Unsubstantiated rumors are enough to judge, try, and execute these people in their eyes. A harmless charm spell is enough to raise their hackles and declare people a dire threat. The guards were unharmed and suffered no trauma, but they make it out as if these men were tortured and held under duress rather than just made to be agreeable for a time. Moradin's beard.
 
As we arrive in the encampment, we speak to a man named Stanimere. When asked what it is he wants, what we can offer him in order to get him and his people to move along. He requests that we speak to their leader, a woman named Lady Ava. The 'archaeologist' seemingly speaks for all of us, agreeing to the terms without even letting the rest of us get a word in edgewise. The bard proceeds to tell a series of lies in order to convince the travelers to leave. Why are we so mistrusting and deceitful toward people who have done no true wrong? I truly don't understand some people.
 
Once the agreement was made, the travelers -- who call themselves 'The Vestani' -- settle in for a night of merriment, drinking, and eating. I drink and eat nothing, I rarely do when I'm on-duty. The others imbibe, participate in the music-making, and the dancing. At some point, I notice that the flames of the campfire turn from orange and gold to purple. Stanimere is playing his violin while his fingers bleed. Then there is blackness...
 
I awaken somewhere unfamiliar. The trees, the drifting fog that obscures the sky and makes it difficult for my darkvision to see anything farther than a few meters ahead of me. There are howls of wolves from the darkness. The casters ignore all else, settling in to muck about with their rituals and light spells, lighting up the clearing like a beacon for the wolves and anything else lurking in the forest. Survival instincts aren't strong in this party.
 
Eventually, someone finally chooses a direction. As expected, the wolves attack us on the road; they're slavering, gaunt beasts with eyes maddened by hunger. There is no frightening away such desperate creatures. The Alpha comes from the front, again, no less than expected and I call out to the others to expect the rest of the pack on our flanks. Sure enough, the party is surrounded in short order.
 
I don't have time to worry about the casters with the Alpha leaping on me right from the start. My world devoles into a flurry of fur, fangs, and bloodshed. I try to save myself with my Lay on Hands but it's precious little, something I certainly need practice with. I'm too used to working with reliable healers at my back; a party that knows how to work together, rather than fight five individual battles. I'll have to learn to rely on my own magic and whatever healing potions I can find in this strange place. I can't afford to be unconscious over and over again, so I'll have to figure out a way to keep myself on my feet.
 
By every grace of Moradin, we defeat the wolves and I have a few new scars. But there are more howls in the distance, harrying us, herding us somewhere. As we top a rise, we see a small town in the valley below. It looks desolate and a mournful keening drifts on the wind. It's hard to tell if it's a person or just some breeze through the town or forest. Haunting. Still, any port in a storm. We enter the town and find something passing itself off as a tavern.
 
Inside, there are six or seven people. The tavern-keep is a man of few words. He hasn't seen the Vestani in some time, so those who brought us here didn't pass this way recently. My party asks a number of questions, but find no real answers. A man introduces himself as Ismarque His father used to be master of this place, but he died, so now the onerous duty falls to him. The party turns to asking this man their questions on how we got here and why. All I care to find is the Lady Ava we were asked to find, so we can expunge the archaeologist's agreement and hopefully find the road that leads us out of here -- out of this Barovia.
 
Ismarque leads us to a building of relative safety; one of many abandoned houses in the village where we might pass the night. Someone asks why the town is so empty, his only reply is, "The land takes many." I take that as a word of caution for this place. Vigilance will be my ally here. He tells us that he lives in the master's house north of town, but that if we find the church we should turn around and go the other way.
 
We settle in to rest. It's much needed. For me, it felt well-deserved.