Chapter Text
Something is wrong, I fear. I have found myself in a strange place, the stench of death and decay in the air reminds me of home, but it is not, the earth feels hostile, almost angry that I walk upon it, and the air feels more hostile still. I am no stranger to dangerous lands. I have spent much of my time here battling the forces of the undead in a war that has lasted so long that those around me do not remember how it started.
If you are reading this, then the enspelled notebook I was given to relay field reports still works, and whatever nightmare has taken me is real. Whether working or not, I will continue to write reports as best I can.
For the knowledge of whomever is reading this, my title is Jäger, for my name has long since been lost to me. I am of average height and build. My face bears no markings, but much of my body is covered in black runic markings. The preachers tell me I am blessed however, no one I have met can tell their meaning.
To my count, 70 years, 208 days have passed since I was found in the forests of Fallowheart by a pair of Dwarven Artificers by the name of Frollk and Horalden. I do not remember how I got there, but I know I am not from this plane of existence. With their aid, I was brought to a place called Rauland. I remember it seemed such a bright place, almost without shadow. I was brought before the leader of this land, an Archduke Ulrich Eizenherz and upon meeting the Dwarf, I understood why light felt so hollow.
Fortunately, the Archduke had knowledge of others like me, it seems I am or was a celestial. The Bürach name for my kind is niedergeschlagen or downcast in common. He told me the tale of God’s End when thousands of my kind rained down from the sky upon the death of the gods however, that was long ago. It is, however, not a story that needs retelling.
Today I awoke in a clearing of trees unknown to me and not in the tree or forest in which I had fallen asleep in the night previously. Whatever or whoever has brought me here seems to have silently moved me and my equipment to its identical place, even the rope that held me to the tree was knotted the same. It seems four others have also been moved in such a manor, two women both humanoid but one is not of a race I have ever met before, another man downcast like myself although it seems a rage has taken him long ago and another of whom I do not have the words to describe, he wears the skins of many people, but its hue is of one I remember on the many risen corpses Ostoyans have sent to pillage the Grey Spine forest’s and mine’s.
After we had finished threatening and accusing each other, we reached a consensus, both that none of us seems to have caused whatever it is that has happened to us, and that none of us knows where we are, and so we have agreed on a tenuous alliance that began with the exchanging of names.
The more human looking woman is called Celeste, the odder looking woman is named Aleti, my fellow ex-celestial is called Ragnar Redwraith, and the weird amalgamation is called Kren.
It seems we have some form of twisted luck. A few steps out of the misty clearing we found ourselves in, we made some discoveries, one despite the bright morning light of the clearing, it was late afternoon, and we were not far from a small, somewhat dilapidated town, one that neither I nor any of my odd companions seemed to recognise. This is a troubling notion as I have travelled much of the land from the forests of Runehiem to the Shattered Peaks of the Sante Verge and never have I seen any of the landmarks I can note, buildings of this style, nor heard some of the languages that were spoken, but I am getting ahead of myself in attempting to record information.
We inevitably came to the conclusion that we must enter. Celeste recommended we should visit the tavern if they have one, to ascertain where we are, to the agreement of the group. However, no more than a few feet into the village, it seems many of my companions were whisked away by the mere smell of some form of bakery. Whilst they were distracted attempting to acquire some form of meat pie, I find purchase on a rickety rooftop and scribbled down a rudimentary map of the town. Oddly enough, it seems the proprietor of the bakery spoke the same common tongue, so perhaps we are not as far from home as it seems.
It seems built around a road going east to west, whilst some of the houses have meagre flickering lights inside, most seem abandoned. A Church and a large graveyard dominate much of the north, and a larger well lit two-story building inhabits the south. The town centre has a smattering of old, rotting market stalls or what might pass for them and what later turned out to be a tavern by the name of Blood of the Vine.
Upon returning it seems my compatriots had purchased all the bakeries remaining meat pies and some were busy scoffing them down, Kren however simply detached their jaw and ate it whole, for once I am thankful not to be of been home as I'd have no way to describe my companionship with these people to a passing inquisitor and have no desire to end up on a pyre with them. Whilst my kin did offer me one, I refused, as I have written, I am well-travelled and passed through a village or two that have fallen on hard times, like this village seems to have and taken to passing off many unsavoury things as meat pies.
Whilst it took some time, we eventually found our way too the tavern, it seemed an odd sort, not that I have frequented many taverns, outside of the Bürach Empire, it had few occupants, a sullen lone man drinking in the corner, a trio of men and a woman arguing over a meal in a language neither I nor my companions understood further cementing my worries, a trio of very similar looking women closer to the door that seemed uninterested in our passing, but their eyes lingered long enough for me to feel watched in an uncomfortable way, whilst my compatriots did not seem to notice it, it seems we were welcome to stay in an unwelcome way at least by the locals.
Alas, we found some seats, Kren and Ragnar continued eating whilst drinks were brought over, and Celeste struck up a conversation with another patron who seemed to have been having a hard time purchasing property from one of the trio of men. She was apparently from a nearby town called Vallaki and left us a hand printed business card. Whilst I am unsure of myself here, it seems Celeste’s eyes looked hungry as she flipped the card over and read the invitation.
It seems the rumours about the nature of taverns are true, not 10 minutes after we had all sat down, we were approached by a man we may have unknowing sought out, the Bürgermeister a young looking man by the name Ismark, he seemed worried and further displeased when one of the ladies sitting by the door came over, I do not recall her name however she seemed most happy to tease and poke at the Bürgermeister calling him Ismark the lesser as some form of insult, she informed us that he has a contentious relationship with much of the remaining towns folk due to him forever being in the shadow of his recently deceased father.
As it goes with taverns, the man who sought help to defend found those willing to help, and we made our way with Ismark to his home in the south of the town. As we grew closer, it became clear more and more of the houses were abandoned, and something had attempted to burn the Bürgermeister’s home down. Upon entry, he called out someone called Ireena, a striking young woman with auburn hair. She wore dull, ill-fitting armour that seemed sized for a man and brandished a sword as she came out from a side doorway, calming down only when she saw her adopted brother, Ismark.
After greetings were exchanged, more information was shared. Apparently, on most nights late, something or someone has been attacking the house. A few nights back, their father, Kolyan, had gone out to face their attackers and died.
Celeste seems to have quietly rejoined us whilst we were talking. I do not remember her leaving. I should keep a closer eye on her. She hesitated at the doorway for a second, and I know only a few species that do this, and it worries me. I must be more vigilant.
We were shown the body which has been prepared for burial. I am unsure of his death, as he seems to not have a scratch on him. We are also told by Ismark and Ireena that the local priest refuses to open the door to anyone of late and asks that tomorrow we help get their father buried.
Kren, who is seemingly a priest of something called Grey Skull, blesses the body with a gentle repose placing a copper coin over each eye to ensure his passing in this seemingly blighted land. I am unaware of such a deity, upon questioning it seems it is some form of life deity.
Given that we are to protect these siblings, Ismark shows us to the guest lodgings upstairs, and my companions begin to get comfortable and begin to set watch before nightfall. As myself and Ragnar have little need for sleep, we offer to take a double watch each. I take the first half, and he will take the second. I find a decent perch on the second floor overlooking the foyer and prepare my arrows, in case of intrusion, setting aside the blessed arrows, given how far I am from home, it is unlikely I will be able to acquire more anytime soon, so they must be spent wisely.
The first half of my watch goes by without a word or any sign of trouble, and the risen amalgamation of flesh leaves to get its own rest, to my delight, as it has an odd smell, or perhaps it was merely the first sign of our soon to be attackers however I am unsure.
It wasnt until about half an hour later that I heard something circling the house quietly. I quickly alerted my recent companions to the danger, as well as the Bürgermeister and his adopted sister. As what seemed like an uncountable amount of dark hounds or wolves were circling the house, almost as if they knew we had seen them, they started howling as they ran in circles around the house.
Most of my companions seemed weary to go outside and face them, Ragnar seemed ready if almost recklessly willing to go out there and face danger. May the inquisitors be merciful, I found myself agreeing with Kren that it was a foolish idea, as they never seem to try to gain entry, according to Ismark and Ireena.
Given the doors and windows were heavily barred from intrusion some of us returned to a cautious rest, however Kren couldn't help peering out through a slight slit in the door, what he described standing out in the darkness was a tall humanoid with a set of piercing red eyes shining out in the darkness, and for the first time in 60 years, I feel a chill run up my spine.
I have a terrible feeling this place has claimed us, and that we will either be killed or claimed by this treacherous land called Barovia. I will take some time for prayer to Morael and Empyreus for the strength and courage I will need for the dauting tasks that undoubtedly lie ahead.