Ravenloft Campaign: Woven Fates

Tonight, I relate the story of a group of strangers that met here in the Land of Mists and, forced by destiny, wandered its roads in formidable adventure. Join us as I lead you from their first meeting along through their travels, their misfortunes and their shining moments. Grace them with your compassion in their losses; bless them with your support when the sky is dark and bleak. Do not forget to bestow your praise upon them as they vanquish terror and hold back the minions of darkness. Raise your arm to cheer for their victories!
And above all, share your glass with us for them, both in sorrow and elation, as you accompany them in the thorny road from lost adventurers to heroes of the mists.

Come, huddle with us by the fire here in the dark. The night is cold, but within the ring of Vardos, its evils cannot touch us. Tonight, you are a guest of the Vistani and nothing will harm you. Come, the Prastonata is over and now is time for the Doroq. Let the tales now unfold, let the revelations begin...

Monday, July 04, 2005

Log Entry 27

They spent almost two hours with the armourer, rummaging in the warehouses in the prowl for good weapons and armours. When at last they were satisfied that nothing could be found better, they were ready to retire to their rooms. Strahd had given instructions to the chamberlain to prepare four rooms, one for each one of them, but they were all two-bedded and the group didn't need that great an hospitality. Yuri and Gregor advised that they should stay in pairs, but Gheata, as was becoming a habit, insisted to sleep alone. Of the other three, Gregor refused to sleep in the same room as Eva, still sore of her denials, as he put it, the previous nights. Eva was so abashed by the comment, that she decided to stay alone, lest she offend Yuri's feelings too.
The three rooms were ample and finely decorated. They had certainly been made for distinguished guests, but despite the appearance of luxury, it became evident, after some scrutiny, that is was all a becoming a fa├žade. The walls were showing their age, and almost seemed to murmur the many tragic tales they had seen in century upon century of lonely history. It seemed as if each stone echoed a sigh of anguish or stiffled a cry of pure fear. The beds each had a fine silk canopy, and these at least seemed to have been renewed a few years ago. But the paintings in the walls were fading away, the rare statue in one of them had its features barely discernible and the fireplace seemed to have lost the grandeur of other times. But at least, in each room the fireplace crepitated with a warm fire that barely disguised the coldness the castle exhuded.
They entered. At last, free from the presence of the Count, they could retire into themselves and let the thoughts they had been suppressing the whole evening take full force in their minds. They didn't speak among themselves. Each went to his own room and thought quietly to himself, but in each mind the feelings were similar: the Count inspired a feeling far stronger than unpleasantness. It was sheer fear! They felt their hearts gripped by some unnatural force, some power of will stronger than they had ever felt and moreso, a sort of aura of command over the whole castle itself, over themselves, like a shadow that loomed always behind their back menacingly close, always threatening to attack. And now, alone in these rooms, with all those centuries of decay around them, with a window that gave onto a cliff of more than a hundred feet high, they felt not only afraid, but... vulnerable, dated, as if by dawn they would be no more than a memory. The heavy stonework of the castle weighed on them as the boot of a giant upon one's chest. They had known the rumours, they had seen from the garlic in the village inn, from the cries of the people for poor Olya who had been abducted, from the way people averted their eyes from the castle that Evil should live there. They had probably even had more than an inkling that the Count might not be entirely natural, but they had never really admitted that. And now, they had marched to his own abode. Was he all their panic now screamed at the ears of their mind? Was he really a feral predator of the night, and they, his hapless prey?
But no, the Count needed them, he had contracted them, he had called them for a service he needed.... or, how stupid they were! Did he really need a service from them, or did he just need them, and all else was merely a pretend, a ploy to attract them? And they had come easily!...Restlessly and unquietly, it's true, but they had dutifully come. Oh, this was surely going to be a long night!

4th October 751, 1st Night Before the New Moon

They prepared for sleep without delay. The three rooms were all on the same side of a corridor, and Gregor and Yuri took the center one. Their room had a door that communicated with Gheata's room, but Eva's had none of the kind. They contemplated the hypothesis of sleeping in their armours, but then decided they should at least have some proper rest, so they took them off. Yuri, however, was decided to stay awake, and he sat on a chair. Despite all his training, he was afraid... Due to all he had learnt in his studies, he was now painfully aware of all the danger signs they had ignored. He could not, by any means, fall asleep...

A woman's cry startled Gregor from his sleep. Yuri too, sat on the chair at the end of the bed, sprang up suddenly in surprise. He hadn't resisted the fatigue. Instinctively, he brought his hand to his neck, almost without noticing. Gregor exclaimed
"But, that was Eva!"

Eva had gone to bed. Sensitive as she was, the atmosphere of the castle had pressed heavily on her. She had, as all the others, carefully locked and barred door and window, but she could not bring herself to sleep. She kept looking at the fire that provided some scant measure of comfort when, suddenly, she saw fine tendrils of mist seeping through the gap between the window and the stone. One picture formed in her mind: a malevolent creature entering her chambed in the form of a gaseous cloud. She gave a cry at once.

Meanwhile, Gregor had left his room in a hurry and knocked at Eva's door:
"What is it?"
"Help me!"
"Well, open the door!"
She unlocked the door and let Gregor enter the room.
"Look, that mist, is that natural?"

In his room, Gheata too couldn't sleep. He too saw the mist entering in his room, but he tested it with his hand and it seemed moist as normal fog. He inspected the window and noticed that erosion had forced its toll upon the stone: there was a strong wind outside and it was pushing the fog into the building. He went back to bed and tried to sleep.

Gregor and Eva saw the mist enter and dissipate slowly. After studying the windowsill, they reached the same conclusion as Gheata did, and making use of some towels that were carefully arranged on a chair, they tried the best they could to prevent the fog and the cold night air of entering the room. Gregor retired to his quarters, visibly upset at Eva's easy frightening. When he came back, Yuri had just sealed the window with the same idea and put another log in the fire.

The night passed slowly, at first silently, but then filled with interminable cries and the sound of wings.
thought Yuri, after some carefully listening. Eva and Gheata knew them at once, used as they were at sleeping near or in the woods. It could be a bad omen and they pulled their sheets more and more protectively to their necks. They slept, at last.

Gregor awoke with a sudden start, but it was only a bad dream. He looked at the window and saw the sun would be rising in no more than an hour. He awoke Yuri and prepared for his prayers. Eva and Gheata woke later, with the first rays of the sun. One hour after sunrise, they were all in the courtyard, looking around to see if someone was going to bring them breakfast. The Count may have been courteous and correct, but his servants, so unused at having guests of any kind, had forgotten any law of hospitality. Surely, they coudln't even understand the Count's instructions towards their guests, and so they now felt simply cast away in a place where they did not belong.
Three men, which on closer inspection looked like gypsies, were tending to the duties of the castle. In the middle of the yard they could see a well, and further away the stables. Gregor approached the gypsies and asked if they could take them back to the inn. The other man looked him up and said
"I can, for 1 shiny gold coin."
Yuri thought this was extorsion, and he vaguely remembered Strahd, or Van Holtz saying something of bringing and taking them back. But he was not exactly in the mood for a discussion. Still, it was very possible that the Gypsy was merely taking the chance to get one more coin. These people never lost one opportunity. Yuri asked
"How are you going to take us?"
"Oh, there's the carriage down there..."
"Go fetch it."
"Very well, very well... just a minute sir."
He made a sign to his two mates and they went to fetch the carriage. Gregor gave the other one a coin and the gypsy drove them back to the village.

Back in the village, Gregor went to speak with Donosty, and enquired about his training. The priest told him that at Gregor should spend at least one more day trying to learn the basic rites. Two would be the ideal, but since he was in a hurry, one alone would do. Gregor agreed and spent that day in the church, drinking from Donosty's teachings. The other three went to the inn and prepared for the journey. Yuri bought food at an exhorbitant price without even arguing. After all, that was the only place in the whole town, and there was not much he could do. After that, he spent the day in his room studying his book, with few breaks for nourishment.
Eva, on the other hand, spent the morning looking for a new dress and eventually found a seamstress that was willing, with some difficulty, to sell her one. It was not fashionable nor much beautiful, but if fit and Eva was in need of one.
Gheata slept for most of the day. When he woke up, he looked for the money he remembered leaving in his room, but found nothing. Angry, he descended the stairs and went menacingly to the innkeeper
"I was robbed. Who was in my room?"
The innkeeper replied in a very broken Mordentish that he didn't know, and that no one had been in Gheata's room. This became more and more aggressive, never believing the innkeeper's word but this, also losing his temper, just said that Gheata had been drunk and with the woman of his party. Then, realization came to Gheata's head and with a very rare appologetic word, he walked off and traded the inn for the outside. He went for a walk. It was not sunny, and soon it began to rain gently, but that didn't detain him. He enjoyed the rain, from time to time. As he was leaving Barovia by the way they had first come, he saw coming in the distance, from the woods to the north, two girls. They advanced slowly, almost painfully, tentatively stepping forward, trying not to fall. The taller one was naked, safe for a mere cape she was sharing with the other one. But that was scant shelter from the weather and Gheata's avid eyes. The other one was not much better off. Her dress was torn in several places, bloody in sundry spots and it clearly revealed more than it had been its first intention. The girl had a full leg in view, and the upper part of one of her breasts. By her shoulder, the sleeve had fallen, ripped, it seemed, by feral teeth. Those meager clothes, more like rags, told a grim tale about the two of them. Gheata approached, and could now clearly see that the girls were in great pain or shock, crying as they advanced. Gheata was at a loss about what to do. He controlled his instincts and decided the better he should do was to try to take the girls to safety. As he decided this, he looked around and saw a man, in his small plot of land, gazing stupefied at the girls. He shouted something to his wife and then bolted off in the direction of the inn, crying one single word repetitively as he trodded by the streets. Gheata never understood what it was.

He could stand there no more. He walked resolutely to the poor lasses, but these, visibly afraid, held each other seeking instinctly what meek protection the other one could give. Gheata stopped, and with gentle words and gestures, as sensibly as he could, tried to convince them that he meant no harm. He gave one step forward, then another, and they knelt on the floor, begging for his mercy. He reached to them and said, in Mordentish,
"I just want to help."
To his surprise, the smaller girl, which he assumed to be younger, replied in the same tongue
"Please, just do us no harm."
The other girl seemed to have fainted. She was in a deep state of retirement, a kind of mental collapse Gheata had never seen. He took her, put his own cape around her and carried her in his arms. At first, he thought of taking them to the inn, but at the last minute, he decided the church should be a much better place to harbour them and took a back street that bordered on the fields and avoided the main one.
Meanwhile, the peasant had reached the inn's door. The sun was just sinking below the horizon.

Gregor was resting from the day's studies in the inn's common room with Eva when the man burst in crying
"Olya, Olya, she has returned."
He had no time to think before the commotion started. Immediately, some men stood up crying in frightened voices
"Vrolok! We must burn her"
"Witch, witch.... bring the ropes, bring the torches!"
A few voices tried to bring the angry men to reason, but already one of them had left and began rallying the village to the cries of "Witch!" and "Vrolok!". Her name was not even spoken. The innkeeper tried all the best to pacify the mob that was forming, but his potent voice had little to no effect.
In his room, Yuri was alerted by the huge fracas downstairs, and as studying became impossible, he decided to come down and see what was happening. The crowd was now moving to the main square and converging around the scaffold, carrying their tools as improvised weapons. They looked for the girl (the peasant never spoke about the second one, which he had not time to recognize) and tried to decide where she could be and how she should be captured. Drawing the innkeeper aside, Gregor tried to understand what was happening
"It's Olya, she has come back. Ordinarily, that should be good news, but as she was abducted and taken to the castle, presumably, I'm afraid she must now be... one of them. But still, before we know for sure, we should never burn her."
"Aye, I'm with you. Let's do what we can to calm this populace".
"You do it. I'll come back in a second."
Bran went back to the inn, while Gregor, Yuri and Eva spread among the mass of people that had formed. Reasoning with them managed to send about a half home. After a while, Gregor could see there were only five really fanatical men who were bringing all the others, now a scant few eight. After appropriate conciliating words they were only six. The situation was now getting more controlled. The inn keeper arrived and this time he brought with him two younger but massive youths that imposed respect.

Gheata arrived to the church in a short time, but it was already dark. He knocked furiously, and Donosty came to open, surprised at the haste. As he opened the door, he looked puzzled at Gheata carrying a practically naked woman and a barely dressed one following him. Gheata gave him quick words
"I found them on the street. They are suffering. Can you help them?"
Donosty had not come without precautions. As he always did after the sun set, he opened the door with his holy symbol, a clove of garlic and a flask of holy water by him. He looked at the girls and easily recognized them.
"Go home now, Gheata, I'll stay with them."

Gheata looked puzzled for an instant
"But, I brought them here, I want them to be safe."
"I said what I said, Gheata. This is no business of yours, and I must tend to them. There are grave matters here."

As Gheata returned to the village, Bran Martikova had climbed to the scaffold and was trying to calm the mob with sound words, but they were proving futile. Gregor joined him and tried to show them that they had no proofs that the girls was a vampire and that no innocent should be murdered without full certainty of their guilt. But once again, these words fell on deaf years. More people were joining now, as the pacifists efforts were turning to naught. Gheata joined Eva and Yuri in the confusion, and drawing them aside, asked what was going on
"They found a girl they claim it's Olya, and they are going to burn her. They are just trying to organize a search, but the Gregor and the innkeeper are trying to stop them."
"I see... Well, I met two girls a while ago in pretty bad shape, at the entrance of the village. I took them to the Father at the church. Do you think it's them?"
"Yes... most probably."
Eva interrupted
"And did you leave the priest alone with them?"
Gheata simply shrugged.
"He wanted to so, and he was well protected.... I trust."
Unconspicuously, Yuri made a signal to Gregor for him to join them again. He left Bran leading the harang and came to know what Yuri wanted.
"Gheata here says he found the girls, and took them to the temple."
"Well, then we can pretend they have gone somewhere else, and lead them off on the wrong track. That'll give us time to find the truth."
"It's well thought. Do that. We'll then make them taste their own medecine"
Gregor climb to the scaffold again and in his most persuasive voice he cried
"Hear me!, hear me!. A friend of mine here says he saw the girl. She's gone to the castle! Leave the square then and go after her!"
But he was immediately cut
"Liar! She was coming from the castle, not going there."
Gregor's bluff backfired. Gheata climbed the scaffold and lacking the means to express himself in a manner they would understand, he simply drew his sword and made a horrible face. Gregor added
"See, she was scared by him"
But the mob only grew more vicious and angry, and one of them threw a lit torch upon the scaffold where Gheata and Gregor stood. Reacting instinctively, the latter jumped to their middle and in a mighty swing of his sword he hit so violently the man that had thrown the torch that he fell to the ground unconscious. Then, it all happened very fast. Gregor and of the innkeeper's companions tried to hold Gheata before he could do more damage. Meanwhile, the innkeeper and the other young man tried to hold the angry men, barring them from reaching Gheata. But one broke off through the barrier and with his scythe managed to graze Gheata. His reaction was so powerful that he slashed the man to the ground. He didn't move, and if he was alive, he'd be mauled for life. Meanwhile, Yuri and Gregor focused now on trying to save the wounded, while Eva watched passively and the innkeeper managed at last to stiffle the anger that crawled like wildfire. Truth be told, Gheata's imposingness with his mighty sword instilled much fear in them, but it was an uneasy truce at best. Profitting of this transitory calmness, Yuri signaled to everybody that it was the dead of night and they were outdoors, and that meant very unsafe ground. The people complied and all went back to the inn, save one of the innkeeper's adjuvants. That one followed to the church.

In the inn, emotions toned down a lot. Gregor and Yuri managed to revive the two fallen peasants, and this made the locals not look so harshly upon them. The air was still tense, but a round of spirits easened them. HAlf an hour later, the stout man came back with Donosty, and the two girls with him. The locals blessed themselves instinctively and then awed as they understood that another girl had come back too
"But.... that's Irina!"
Donosty did not lose any time. He said sternly
"These girls were brought to me at the beginning of the night. Surely, when they reached the village it was still day. That alone should have you convinced, but since you're so hard-headed, here!"
and he performed in front of their eyes all the common sense precautions against vampires: he put garlands of garlic around their necks, sprayed them with holy water and ostensively showed them his holy symbol. Nothing, they did not react in any speacial way. A cheer erupted from the tables and another full round passed through the tables. Gregor went to the kitchen and cooked a special celebrative dinner, and what had been a gloomy tragic night soon turned into a joyous and memorable feast, like few others that village had seen in the last decade.

After the meal, Donosty drew Gregor aside, and Yuri joined them, but Gheata chose to follow Irina instead. He addressed her in his most gentle way which, by other people's standards, was still overtly direct.
"So, you the burgomaster's daughter? People here think you killed your father!"
This blatant accusation, as it seemed to her, almost threw Irina off her self-control. She looked around for a place to hide, but Gheata continued
"I believe that only someone very stupid or very smart would come back to the village after killing someone and since I don't believe you to be either, I think it was not you who did it."
Irina was puzzled. Gheata's words were shocking, but it seemed that, after all, he wanted to be on her side. But how little did he understand of other people's minds. Where else could she go, even if she had really killed her father? Where else could she escape? For good or bad, the village was the only point she could return too, and there she'd have to endure the anguish of being exposed some day. Irina just looked up at Gheata, uncomfortably. What else did he have in his mind?
"I thank you for your support, but I don't see the point of this conversation."
"No? What will you do with your life? Donosty told me you have no more family, and if you stay, they'll burn you sooner or later."
She cringed at the thought.
"I don't know, maybe I'll stay at the church for a while, like Olya."
"You know about your life, but this village is not a safe place for you to stay. Moreso with a bunch of guys who get violent so easily."
"What do you mean? This is my land, I don't know any other!", she blurted out as she began to weep.
"After I left the temple, when I reached the square they were gathering a crowd to go after you and the other and skin you both."
"Please, stop! You're making me upset. You look like a brute speaking!" her voice trailed off, and she added in a low tone
"But I believe you, it has happened before."
Gheata held her arms and almost shouted at her
"You have to be a brute to survive!". Seeing the alarm in her eyes, he added in a rare soft tone
"I lost my family too. I know what it is." He paused for a couple of seconds and added, warmingly
"You can come with us, if you wish. I'll teach you to use a weapon for your defense."
Irina couldn't say a word. She just stood there, weeping. She managed to say, between sighs
"But I'm no brute, I don't like violence. I just want my father back..." and she broke off crying even more.
Gheata put his hand on her shoulder compassionately. And in a tender voice few people had ever heard from him he said
"I too wanted my sister back, but we have to go on living... and surviving."
Irina looked up at him, her wet eyes beautiful and innocent as a doe's. She wanted to believe him, that he could be her saviour and lead her away from a village where she had so dark memories. She seemed to recall episodes from her past, things that up to now had been inexplicable to her, blackouts she had felt now and then, and murmured:
"But it was really me... and that is what is horrible!"
This phrase left Gheata totally astonished. He clearly hadn't expected the rumours to be true, that this frail young girl could really have done it. He stood there, immobile, mouth agape, looking at her, not knowing what to do. He was just trying to figure how and why she had done it, and he couldn't understand. He didn't even move when Irina left him and climbed the stairs to weep alone. This had taken a turn he really did not expect.

Speaking in a conspirational tone, so that only Gregor and Yuri could listen, Donosty began
"There is a grave story behind all of this. I want you to learn because you can be of help. And perhaps you can be helped too. That young girl, Irina, is the daughter of the burgomaster."
Yuri watched her carefully across the room, speaking to Gheata.. She matched the size of the footprints, and was probably the girl he had been chasing in the forest after her father's death.
"This girl is under a heavy guilt now, and she feels horrible about it. She was the one who killed her father, but she doesn't quite remember it. She claims she just saw herself there, holding the dagger in her hand, looking at her dead father still pierced in his heart. She says she lost all reasoning and began running, running without direction."
Yuri exclaimed with a stern punch on his hand
"The dagger! I never liked that dagger! Gosh, that must have been what bewitched Irina. How frightening that such evil things exist."
Donosty nodded and mused for a second, and then continued:
"She entered the forest and after a while, she could not find her way back. Then, she was followed by wolves the whole evening and through the night, wolves that on occasions arrived to bite her, but she could always escape until she found a cave, a few hours before dawn. She entered, but the wolves remained outside. She spent that day and night there, until just before dawn, Olya came to her, almost mute and in shock. She only said "Let's go home", but in such a state of apathy that poor Irina felt for her life. She awaited the morn and then came to the brink of the cave and saw no wolves. More, she climbed to the rock that formed its roof and from there she located Barovia again. They had to dare the cold, the rain and the immodest, at best, attire in which she arrived at my temple. I'd better not describe it here, but suffice it to say that not even a prostitute would dress like that. Irina carried Olya with her the whole way, a heavier burden than only her slithe frame would imply. She depressed Irina and she was constantly fearing that the wolves would arrive to finish their meal. At length, they reached the village and that's when Gheata found them."
"And what can you tell us about Olya?"
wanted to know Eva.
"Olya is perhaps even a darker matter..."
"Whatever happened to her, she doesn't remember. There's a blackness in her mind, a whole period she has forgotten. All she remembers is a cold stone chamber, being naked on a bed and has an extreme repulsion for men. Something happened to her that was very, very strong and overpowered her mind. I fear she's lost for us now.... one more to join the ranks of the Lost Ones."
He shaked his head sadly.
"I'll be taking care of her in the church, of course, and see if I can improve her condition. But I have no hopes.... but about Irina.... there's something you should know, that perhaps will even be useful to you."
"That girl has something. I had suspected from this from some time, there were tales, murmurs and soft words about her."
"Yes, but what?!"
"Well, she blacks out now and then, and then things happen... and she doesn't remind a thing! And when we were at the church, a while ago, she got frightened with something and suddenly the shelf behind me fell to the floor. She doesn't remember this, but I saw a ... how shall I put it, a ball, some wave of energy coming from her and hitting the wall."
"Have you thought that could be magic?" asked Yuri.
"Yes, that's precisely what I thought."
"I see... I had heard stories of that before, but I had never thought they could exists. But now, it seems it's true, there are such people around with inate talent for magic."
"Look", said Donosty, "Irina shouldn't stay here. Sooner or later people are going to talk, and they'll begin venturing that Irina killed the Burgomaster. That this is true they must not know al all! They would never understand it was not really her who did it, so you can not give them chance to suspect of her. The best thing she could do now is to disappear completely from Barovia and their memories."
"I think she could come with us", said Gregor. "What do you think, Yuri?"
"It seems well, by me. She could even become very valuable for us. How old is she?"
"She's fifteen."
"Almost a woman, then. Very well, she can come with us."
"It's set then... do you leave tomorrow?"
"I'm afraid so.... we don't have many conditions to stay here... and, quite frankly, we've done everything we had to do here."
"Can you give us any advice, Donosty? For the journey?" asked Gregor, suddenly anxious at the depart.
"Hmmm... not much, I'm afraid. You take the Old Svalich Road, whence you came here, and follow it straight until Vallaki. After Vallaki, you follow the road straight to Krezk. It's a three days ride and unlike the journey to Vallaki, it will not be through a forest road: you'll be very much inside the Balinoks, within dark passes and deep gorges. It's high and dangerous up there, so get prepared for mountain travel in Vallaki."
He hesitated a small while and then he added
"About that journey to Vallaki..."
"Yes?" inqured Gregor.
"You'll have to go through Svalich Pass. You'll probably reach it by the mid-afternoon if you get out early, but you should take still about four hours going through. It ends at about one hour from Vallaki. Do whatever you will, do not Cross Svalich Pass by night. Do not! I shudder to tell you this, but it is ... haunted, to say the least."
"I'll heed your words, Father" agreed Gregor, "but now, if you could only tell me, what is Vallaki like?"
"Vallaki? Hmmm... it's mainly a fishing town. Much larger than this forsaken village here. Its inhabitants live off their catches on the Zarovich Lake all the year round but curiously, one thing that stands out in Vallaki, is the number of bookshops there are. In a country where most of the populace cannot read, it makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"And what about Krezk? What do I do there?"
"When you arrive to Krezk, go to see the Harbinger of the Rosy Dawn, at the Temple of the First Light. That is High Priest Samuel Valentin. He'll be more than happy to confirm you in the Church and give you full status as our brother. And now, Gregor, good luck on your travels. May I see you yet some day as a full cleric of the Morninglord."
As Gregor prepared to move away, Yuri, who had been wondering for most of the final part of the conversation, turned to Donosty and asked him.
"What kind of dagger is this, after all, that made a daughter kill her own father?"
"Yuri", was the solemn reply, "there are mysteries in Barovia that should rather remain hidden for ever."

They separated and a few minutes later, it was the turn of Bran Martikova to come to speak to Gregor
"I mean you no ill-will. I thank you for what you did tonight, saving those two girls and preventing the blood shed. But the people here are suspicious, and they don't like strangers at all. They no longer consider you guilty nor do they keep hard feelings at you, but still they think you're too violent and quick-tempered, and perhaps it would be better for us all if you left Barovia as soon as possible... that means tomorrow morning. Remember, strangers are not well liked in Barovia, much less so those that commune with the Count...."


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