Magic isn't exactly my thing. I understand some of the basic concepts, I can do the tiniest bit of it myself, but I guess I just don't understand it well enough to be as concerned about it as my new friends seem to be. From my point of view, it just is. It seems like half the adventurers you meet in taverns, inns, and around community job-posting boards have the ability to reshape reality in some way. I guess that's why I didn't get too excited when some kind of magic smoke took us from the Trade Way to a totally different place.

Let me back up a little...

After returning to meet Stanimir and the other Vistani, everyone seemed to have a pretty good time singing, dancing, and learning about our new travel companions. Just before dawn, we all set off down the Trade Way heading south towards the Misty Forest. I assumed their home must have been somewhere east of the High Moor, or maybe south of the Fields of the Dead. They wouldn't say much about it, except that their home was as beautiful as it was dangerous. (Faerxan and I were maybe a little more excited to hear that than the others, but I'm sure they'll all come 'round!)

We traveled for hours until we finally stopped to make camp. Cassandra helped pass the time by providing some excellent traveling music in addition to making conversation with everyone, while Moss and I took turns keeping watch with the Vistani. I did catch snippets of their conversation while resting in the back of the wagon from time to time while Moss scouted ahead.

It turns out that Allynia is a cleric of Torm, who is a god of courage and bravery and battle. I can definitely get behind that. Even so, she seems to be filled with this light and happiness and good feelings that don't seem to necessarily gel with the idea of a god of war. Avery, on the other hand, is a cleric of the Morninglord, and he seems to be quite devoted to his faith despite his grousing of early hours, with a dose of paranoia on the side. It was interesting to listen to him and Moss have a tête-à-tête discussing their respective philosophies, as Moss also seems to have some sort of background in worshipping the sun. His point of view seems to be a more spiritual one than the organized religion of Lathander. He and Avery will likely have much to talk about as we travel, or they will fight like cats and dogs. We'll see.

When we eventually camped after our first day of travel, Cassandra took advantage of our uneventful travels to further enjoy her time with the Vistani, learning their songs and dances. Avery sacked out immediately, while Moss and I made a schedule for keeping watch to ensured that neither troll nor highway bandit snuck up on the wagons.

Instead of bandits, a thick fog snuck up on us. Avery seemed quite put out by this, but our Vistani guides didn't seem to pay it any mind, so neither did I. After all, it's not that uncommon a thing to have foggy mornings, especially when near bodies of water. This fog, however, didn't burn off with the passage of the morning. It got thicker and roiled in to envelop us all. When it eventually gave way, we found ourselves stood before a massive gate. At one time, it was clearly a magnificent wonder to behold, a true testament to someone's architectural genius. The massive statues flanking an equally massive iron gate had clearly seen the effects of time without any upkeep. The guarding statues were both crumbling, their heads on the ground at their feet. Moss and creeping vines worked up the stone walls, their roots causing cracks throughout.

It was there that Stanimir said his farewells to us. He referred to the land beyond the walls as "Barovia" and gave us rudimentary directions to find Madame Eva (see my detailed and magnificent cartographic skills for more details on this). His parting advice was to keep to the road, as the woods are dangerous. But what is a little danger among friends? As I told Stanimir on the journey: danger, obstacles, defeat - these are all learning opportunities that allow for growth and development. Sometimes it's for our own personal growth, and sometimes we serve as a life lesson for others to develop more safely. Life would be ludicrously stagnant if we didn't strive for more in the face of adversity, however, and so we press on.

Our journey was somewhat stunted from the get-go. As soon as we entered beyond the gates, they slammed shut behind us. This caused a rather sizeable amount of concern from certain individual, but like I said, magic isn't exactly my thing. A hundred-foot gate shuts on its own? Magic. Why? Because magic. That's all I've got. It wouldn't open again, so from my view, that only leaves us this single road to journey down. Especially since Stanimir didn't tell us of any other roads to any other places. I'll have to work on that when we get to town.

If we ever get to town. There is now some debate on that issue. We walked for hours and hours without making it to the Village of Barovia. We did manage to find a man a few dozen feet off the road. He looked to have been mauled by wolves and dragged into the underbrush, although surprisingly, he hadn't been eaten, just mauled. I took a quick sketch of his face to let the local constabulary know about his untimely death. He was clutching a crumpled note in one hand. While the other discussed the meaning of this missive, I unshouldered my pack, unfixed the small shovel strapped to the side of it, and began digging the man a proper grave. We only had time for a shallow, unmarked grave and a few quick words. We made a valiant effort to make it to civilization before nightfall, but unfortunately, it was not to be.

Faerxan has the original paper, but I transcribed it here as best I could. In short, it said:

It starts with some basic introductory flowery to an unnamed recipient, then the Burgomaster of an unnamed place, one Kolyan Indirovich, says they need assistance, that one Ireena Kolyana has been attacked, that everything has gone rather pear-shaped rather quickly -- and something about wealth and riches as a reward. I'm sure it's easy to guess which parts were caught onto first. Regardless, it sounds like the Burgomaster was trying to send a letter for help in his town, and the messenger was set upon by wolves before it could be delivered. Coincidence? Purposeful attempt to stop Indirovich from asking for help? Where was the messenger headed? Did he know a way out of this land, or did we completely miss the road into town and are walking in circles?

We walked a little faster for as long as we could. Not wanting to exhaust ourselves so early in our journey, we made camp for the night. Stanimir was right to say these woods are not safe. Something large and angry-sounding was moving through the trees after nightfall, but we were not its prey. Other things were out there, watching us, but nothing made a move against us. Fortunately, most of the party has a decent ability to see in the dark. Poor Avery is the only human among us, so we'll simply have to make sure that he sticks close to one of us if anything does happen at night while we're here.

Breakfast is, of course, the most important meal of the day! After shoveling in some food and drink, we set off again. Right into a heavy rainstorm. Fortunately, a large manor house of some sort was there in the distance. Hoping for a warm fireplace, or at least a dry roof, we headed that way, only to be met by a pair of sobbing children who said that there was a monster in their house, that they couldn't find their parents, and that their baby brother was trapped inside.

Whether that was true or simply children's imaginations getting the better of them during a storm, we agreed to look around inside and confirm with their parents that everything was all right before moving on.


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