Strange Invitation, Stranger Companions

The Invitation (an Intro)

To understand this post you need to read HERE first.

What follows is an in-character journal for my character in a monthly gaming session.

This is not a blog, but is under my blog headings as I thought it would be easier to read and share with you all.

The Journal of Lucian Esophorus

I was certain that my dreams, my nightmares were just that… figments with no weight. But the card that followed me from dreams into my waking reality told me otherwise. The name, scrawled on the reverse side of the Trokka card, held no meaning to me. But asking around I soon learned that The Devil’s Teat, was indeed a real place.

It was the kind of bar that I had spent many a night in. During my nightly escapes from the monastery. It sat at a crossroads between the south and the great city of Waterdeep and when I entered the room, I felt welcome. It was like coming home.

Taking a Seat, Strangers together

So soon after the loss of my true home, it caused my heart to ache and shortly I found myself sitting quietly with a very large and well-built tiefling woman. Her name was Sorrow, and I found that bittersweet. The fates were messing with me. That I, wrapped in the loss of all that I loved, and hunting the creatures that fed on humanity, would be seated beside Sorrow.

At first, I pretended to be more interested in the musicians in the corner of the room, and the contents of my chest. I pulled forth this very journal, intent on writing and whiling away my time as I figured out who had summoned me to this place. When a sharp eyed halfling, small even for his race asked to share the empty seat to the other side of me.

He introduced himself as Tate and climbed into the chair without awaiting my answer. To be kind, I offered my journals as a booster so the poor dear could see over the table. Before I could open my mouth to introduce myself, I was interrupted by the lady of the house. A woman of ample proportions who loudly announced that the place was named after her own ample bosom. She was boisterous and quite charming for a dwarven woman. She dropped a pitcher of beer on the table and took our order.

HELL of an Entrance

That out of the way I finally turned to Mr. Tate to introduce myself when the door of the bar burst open and a blue skinned and dapper tiefling swept into the room. He immediately drew attention by both his attire, his manner, and his nature. Naamh was in the house and the bulk of the evening would revolve around him hitting on the owner of the bar (to the point where he told her he didn’t care that she was married and was quite happy to take both to bed), trying to out preform the entertainment, and having the last quip.

But I won’t spend precious paper running through all the details of his exploits, nor drag out all of the details of the rest of the evening. It has gone far too late already and dawn rapidly approaches as I write this. I will be leaving with the Vistani to discover this strange land called Barovia, and perhaps find the wizard powerful enough to enter dreams and leave trokka cards in reality.

Let me sum up the rest of the night.

The Meat of the Matter:

Ignoring Naamh as he entered the bar. Tate noticed that I had my trokka card, and on seeing it pulled a similar card out of his vest. Sorrow gasped and pulled her own card out as well. The three of us had been called to this place by someone, or something.

While my card had a monk on it, Tate’s had a cutpurse, and Sorrow had the “broken one.” While we discussed the significance of the cards and the fact that the Vistani minstrels in the corner were also renown for using the cards to divine the future. Naamh introduced himself to our table. Leaning over my shoulder and dropping a fourth card on the table. The Beast.

We quickly found gained another as a second halfling joined the table. He was nervous and slightly taller than Tate, but he dropped the torturer on the table and introduced himself as Isca. A young apprentice wizard on walkabout.

By the end of the evening two more would join our ranks, the elf Raven’s Child and the half elf Jherek. A druid and paladin respectively.

Significance of the Cards.

Over the course of the evening, we argued over the cards. Isca was worried about how powerful a wizard would have to be both enter dreams and teleport a card into someone’s hand while they slept. Tate was highly distrustful of such things and of the bar, and of being summoned at all. And Naamh was putting all of his attention to arranging his “devil’s threesome” with the bar owners.

We were not making much ground and finally approached one of the Vistani to give us a reading of the cards and let us know what they meant. To our shock, he drew the same cards we all carried out of his own deck. It is also at this time that we found that there were seven cards in a full reading and we met out final two members. We were shook. The Vistani must have seen something in our faces as he laid the cards on the table.

He swept the cards off the table and jokingly said that they were nonsense, and that it was merely a game he played to entertain. But then he spoke of a woman among his people called Madame Ava. He swore that she had the true gift and could truly read the cards.

But if we wanted to speak with her, we would all have to go to Barovia.

Conjoined Fate

We quickly discovered that not only did we all have the card in common, but that each of us had had a similar dream. We’d all been confronted with horrors from our various pasts and a woman had summoned us to Barovia. In all my research I could not find anything other than the mention of the country’s name. No maps, no trade routes, no history. Just stories of people coming and going from there, and always the Vistani.

We invited the Vistani back to our table and asked for directions to Barovia. He told us we’d never find the path. But that if we were truly willing to go, he would take us on as caravan guards in the morning and lead us in.

We agreed to the terms. With that the rest of the night was spent in better cheer. At least it seemed better.

For myself I was withdrawn and more quiet than normal. There was much on my mind and it was better to enjoy the arm-wrestling contest, the music, and the food. Then it was to brood or to try and get stories out of the travelers about the undead.

A Poor Night’s Rest…

…is better than no rest at all. Retrieving my books from Tate’s chair I threw everything into my chest and dragged it up the stairs behind me. We’d be leaving before first light and that was barely six hours away as I started this entry.

I’m not sure I fully trust the Vistani, or this voice calling me from my dreams. Nor do I like the idea of a country that can only be found by those born within it. I fear that Barovia might be full of more questions and less answers. But I have nothing else calling me….