VII - False Prophet?

The others seem to be taken in by this trickstress and her street corner hustle. I am unwilling to abandon sense to the idea that our futures are cast by some drawing of cards. It also challenges credulity that we have all been drawn here to play some game or other at the behest of some entity that gets its pleasures from producing vague hints to suspiciously powerful artefacts with the capability to be his undoing. Why would such an entity not have rid the land of these items rather than risk their own destruction?

However, what I have seen of this land suggests I would do well to remain with the group for our mutual protection. Perhaps in time there will come a greater understanding of the game we are being forced to play. But for now we journey onwards towards Barovia village.

We are taken by wagon on the road to Barovia. And dropped off within walking distance of the village as the Vistani are not particularly welcome. They warn us cryptically not to worry about the ravens. Why is it no one can talk in straight sentences?

Not far along the road we encounter a dead body lying to the side of the road. In the trees around it are a number of ravens. The body has a letter from the Burgomaster of Barovia. 

Hail thee of might and valor:

I, the Burgomaster of Barovia, send you honor—with despair.

My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena Kolyana, has been these past nights bitten by a vampyr. For over four hundred years, this creature has drained the life blood of my people. Now, my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. He has become too powerful to conquer.

So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with the symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the devil may be contained within the walls of weeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.

There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all departed for a better life.

Kolyan Indirovich

Burgomaster

Not knowing how this culture treat their dead we decide to carry the body back to Barovia for correct burial or cremation.

The Welcoming Vista of Barovia

As we reach the village we meet a far too delightful old lady selling pies at the extortionate price of one whole gold piece each! The others all buy a pie, I decline. The seller admits on questioning that the pies are imbued with magic that can impart peaceful dreams. The fact that the pies are laced with narcotics only seems to make the others more keen! 

We enter the local tavern. The barman either finished bottom of his class in customer service, or he is one of the soulless Barovians. Even telling the barman we found a dead body on the road and want to know where to take it for burial gets no response.

We meet a man called Ismark Indirovich - the burgomaster. His father the Burgomaster has recently died. Ismark confirms that the letter was not written by his father, it is a forgery. Comparing the letter to Strahd's letter from the Death House - They match!

Ismark tells us a story about a haunted house that seems to appear when strangers have come to Barovia - It seems this is the house of Death that I first encountered in this accursed land.

Ismark's sister Ireena is indeed ill having been bitten by Strahd. But no one knows why. His house has been under attack by wolves and other creatures every night for two weeks since Strahd bit Ireena - the stress is what caused his Father's heart attack. Somehow we volunteer for hole digging and cadaver movement duties.

We decide - as I had first advised - to visit the Church of Barovia. Father Donnovich.

Church of the Morning Lord - Inviting to all new worshippers

On entering the church we approach The Father and a scream eminates from under the church floor. "Father I am starving!".

The Father admits that he has locked as he has been bitten by a Vampyre and he is praying for him.

What is it with this whole place and its children?

We understand that the son may have been turned into a vampyre spawn - a condition which may be curable.

I would argue that no undead should be suffered to exist, but it seems my compatriots are more Liberal than I and make promises to return to help. Should the creature cause harm to anyone in the meantime then I fear my time with them may come to an abrupt end. 

This whole place is dysfunctional. The Father of the only church in town has no worshippers, their leader is dead and no one lifts a finger to help even with his funeral. The shadow of Strahd or perhaps more precisely the Fear of Strahd, lies deep across this entire Valley!

I find it confusing that the letter we now believe to be from Strahd seems to be written to specifically dissuade us from entering Barovia. Yet the more we learn, the more we believe we have been brought here and are being manipulated and played with. Mayhap this Strahd is nothing more than a bored child seeking playthings?

Laslow further postulates that the letter seems to be manipulating us towards Ismark. Perhaps this man is in league with Strahd. We determine to buy provisions - particularly to aid Laslow in gaining a spell that might aid us and head to the village's only shop.

We offer the shopkeeper the various items and equipment that the rest of the group have looted from our journey so far. In the hope of raising funds. I find the whole process vulgar and depressing so stay out of it. The shop keeper has little to no stock and his prices are ten times the norm. He has nothing we need.

I offer my coin purse to Laslow. The coin has no value but what it can buy, and in this case knowledge and ability is of far greater worth than trinkets. I am unsurprised that none other in the group match my gesture.

We continue to the Burgomasters house stopping at Gertruda's residence to return Lancelot. Her mother, Mary, depressed and sad beyond merely being distraught, tells us that her daughter broke out of the house and ran away a week ago. Judging by her journal Gertruda has a teenage infatuation with Strahd. She Also has a doll that bears the same label as the doll of rheuban. It bears the label "Is no fun Is no Blinksy." 

In questioning Mary I notice that she has two child beds and ask her about her other child she seems confused. By the looks of the clothes and toys it would seem that the other child is a boy. 

The children in this world are doing nothing more than strengthening my resolve to celibacy.

Yet again we make the offer to help where no one else does. At this rate we shall be so distracted from our main cause we shall die in Barovia - most likely of old age.

As we make it to the Burgomaster's Manor the destruction wrought on it by the continued night attacks by packs of wolves is evident. The place is run down and decayed. The muddy grounds are covered in paw prints and the house shutters and doors are deeply clawed.

Ismark introduces us to Ireena and I am surprised to see she seems in good health yet was bitten by a vampyre some weeks ago.

It seems we have many questions...

VI - The Road to Vallaki

We find ourselves outside on the road Laslow says he knows the country and draws a map with as much accuracy and detail as a kindergartner with a wax crayon. We set off towards where Laslow vaguely suggests Vallaki might be.

Oddly in a moment or two we come across a child's toy lying in the ground. Its a cuddly lion with a wooden sword that looks like Reuben. It has a label that says "Is no Blinksy is no fun".

A mile or so down the road we come across three merchants - engaging them in conversation as the pale sun goes down they suddenly turn demonic and set upon us.

The stench of these creatures is nearly overwhelming. But it doesn't stop the Leonin from roaring as he charges in. A tussle ensues. I spear one of the creature and K'Hevin finishes it off. Elsewhere in the fight Cai takes a brutal blow and is down and Reuben has to break off from wildly swinging his glaive to lay on hands.

Laslow dances around in the rear of our group staying out of trouble and launching thunderous spells at them as Shoobie flits around the opponents distracting them.

I finish off the beast in front of me after K'Hevin slashed around recklessly with no effect. And turn to see the two other creatures overwhelming Cai. In a lucky move Cai smashes upwards with his mace and catches the creature under the chin and sends his head flying and Reuben piles into the remaining injured creature killing it easily.

Before the bodies have even finished twitching the mob of my current compatriots descend on them to loot their valuables.

The bodies are soon burnt. All the while a group of ravens sat in the trees watching us.

We travel further down the road towards Vallaki, and come to a traveller camp. It is the brightest and happiest thing I have seen since arriving in this accursed place. We are invited to share wine and join the festivities.

It appears that we have been led here under false pretences. Laslow it seems has been seeking us to gather us together. It appears that he is a member of a group called the Vistani who in ancient times were the in league with the Devil Strahd. The pact they have with him enables them to travel to and from barovia at will. A fact he has not shared with the rest of us despite our consternations at being trapped in this forsaken place!

Laslow further reveals that we are gathered to fulfill some ancient destiny to free the land from the grip of Strahd. A destiny that his grandmother now reveals to us through some common three-card magic trick masquerading as portents. I am deeply suspicious of Laslow. what else he neglected to tell us? Another one I need to keep an eye on.

Strahd it seems is a member of the unliving - a Vampyre. The commoners of Barovia are trapped here, most of them are merely shells without souls. Those with souls may not ever leave - if they die their souls are reborn in this hell hole. Some of them have sold themselves to the Amber Temple which allows them to transform into the kind of creature we encountered on the road.

Our destiny is foretold by cards. It seems we are seeking a Book, a broken Sword, and a divided Holy symbol.

The cards for the Sword pieces are: The Hooded One - A faceless god that waits for you at the end of a long and winding road deep in the mountains.
The Beggar - A wounded elf has what we seek, He will part with the treasure to see his fate fulfilled. (I think you will know this man - he has been here - Kasimir!)

The Cards for the Holy symbol are : Philanthopist - Look to a place where madness is bred and children once played. There you will find what you seek.
Master of coins - I see a nest of Raven - there you will find the prize.

The Tome has information on Strahd. The Illusionist - A Man is not what he seems , he comes in a carnival wagon - therein lies what you seek.

Strahd has Enemies - some of these enemies may help you.
Gost - a fallen paladin lingers like a ghost in a dead dragons lair - he will be a great ally.

For the final battle, you will meet Strahd where this card tells... The Broken One - he haunts the tomb of the man he envied above all.

It seems that the dog Lancelot belongs to Gertruda - from Barovia village.

V - The Wilderness Hours

 Dunno what happened here.

IV - The Impatient Axe

Before I can consider a thoughtful course of action, Reuben barrels past me into the room pushing me out of the way and launches a javelin at the creature. Missing badly.

With any form of surprise lost I step passed him into the room aim and land a crossbow bolt squarely in the creatures squirming body. It shrieks and lunges madly at the source of its pain, It moves more swiftly than I had imagined for such a worm-like creature and it is upon me slashing with tentacle and maw. A bite lands deep on my shoulder and I can feel its foul breath on my skin. My limbs go numb and I find myself paralysed.

The remainder of the group charges into the room and dispatch the foul carrion, making short work of it and after a few moments the paralysis proves to be temporary and wears off.

I glare at the Paladin. Yet another member of this group I need to keep an eye on.

We progress further into this foul place. As we traverse the passageways we encounter and dispatch a pair of Ghouls with speed despite the chaotic and ineffective whirling of Rheubens great axe. 

We press on and find some rooms furnished as living quarters for the owners of the dungeon. We discover a book that seems to list the dozens of torture victims that have been brought to the dungeon. Alongside a pathetic letter penned by Lord Durst that blamed his cruel actions on his wife's evil ways and ask his children to forgive him his madness. It is a pathetic read and the man deserves no forgiveness.

My Beloved Children,

I wish I could do what all fathers do and tell you that monsters aren’t real. But it wouldn’t be true.

Life can create things of exquisite beauty. But it can also twist them into hideous beings. Selfish. Violent. Grotesque. Monstrous. It hurts me to say that your mother has turned into one such monster, inside and out. And I’m afraid the disease that afflicted her mind has taken hold of me as well.

It sickens me to think what we’ve put you through. There is no excuse. I only ask of you, though I know I do not have the right to do so, to try and forgive us. I despise what your mother has become, but I love and pity her all the same.

Lily, I wish I could see you blossom into a strong, beautiful woman. Spike, Walter, I wish I could be there for you. But I can’t. This is the only way.

Goodbye.

Lord Durst as a Wraith

A room next door is furnished as a bed room - as though anyone would sleep in this place of death! As we investigate the portraits of Lord and Lady Durst come to life and step into the room. In death as in life I presume, the Lord is a pitiful hen-pecked man and his wife is an evil crone cajoling him into attacking us.

Cai the celestial cleric produces his holy symbol and turns the undead. The crone shrieks and turns to run, dashing immaterially through the far wall. The Lord resists and is on me in a moment.*  The wraith is fearsome but finally Reuben earns his keep and his great axe smites deep followed by a holy smite. Along with divine blasts from Cai and I the Lord's wraith is despatched.

A moment later the wraith of Lady Durst returns in fury. But we are ready and Reubens axe is accurate and she joins her husband.

Neither of them deserve our pity, or our fogivness.

* At no point did the wraith reduce me to 0 hit points and reduce my max HP to 0 rendering me dead only for Lazlow to produce a portent after the hit and set the course of progress on a different track. That didn't happen. At all. No matter what everyone else tells you.

III - Child Care

The passageway is cramped sandwiched as I am between a seven foot bugbear and the armoured bulk of an equally tall leonin warrior. Stairs lead upwards towards the attic and we creak, clatter shuffle and clang our way upwards in presumption that the remainder of the group are following.

At the end of the passage we emerge into an attic space under the sloped roof of the house. A number of closed doors present themselves to us but one stands out. Not only is it padlocked on the outside but from the room beyond comes sound so of children playing.

Spike and Lilly Durst

From nowhere another member of the group remembers a key they have found and I idly wonder how much else they have neglected to tell me. And in an instant the door is open.

The scene inside is enough t break the heart of the staunchest man - and I do not claim to be he. 

A child's bedroom with twin beds and toys scattered across the floor, the whole covered in the layer of decay I am sadly becoming accustomed to in this place. Playing quietly are a girl of no more than eight and a younger boy. The pair are translucent like the nanny we encountered earlier and lying in the middle of the floor entwined in each others arms as though huddling together to stave off hunger and cold lie two small bodies, reduced by age to little more than skeletons.

The group quickly identify the children that they had met outside, Lilly and Spike Durst and asked for aid. They have clearly been dead for sometime.

I hope that my words of warning from the nanny downstairs have been heeded, and that though they resemble children sense shall prevail and these foul creatures shall not be permitted to endure. Sadly despite my advice, both Cai and Derrumbe step into the room to engage the ghosts in conversation. I bite my tongue and hope that I will live to regret their curiosity.

The children are aware they are dead, they vividly remember being locked in their room to play whilst their parents went to the basement to see the monster. They do not know how long ago that was, but by the scenes of decay in their room it was many years, perhaps decades ago. They are frightened and I have to remind myself that these are not innocent children lest my pity be stirred and my defences lowered. I briefly discuss with Cai how we might lay the bodies to rest, but alas he and the group dismiss my assertion that the ghosts should be dispatched immediately. Instead they opt to find the resting place for the bones.

In the corner of the room is a child's doll house; a replica of the manor house that we occupy. A quick investigation of the toy - which for some reason necessitated ripping off the roof - revealed a secret spiral stair running from the attic down through the entire building. Perhaps this is how we get to the home of the monster in the basement?

Lilly Durst
Oil on Canvas
from memory
by the author

As the group gather up the bones and make to leave the room, the ghosts become more agitated, not wanting Cai and Derrumbes to leave. The ghosts cling to their hand and legs as though stopping them from moving but without material form the effort is meaningless and as the Celestial and Firbolg leave the room the children vanish.

Just as I thought the firbolg could not get any more annoying her whole demeanour changes. Gone is the innocent curiosity over every little thing, replaced by what I can only describe as a right little madam. Shoving the human sized members of our group out of the way the huge blue druid demands that we go downstairs, we have to find her parents. Bossy and incessant, she barely waits to draw breath at the end of one imperious demand before she launches into the next and strides off towards another room in the attic. K'Hevin is almost required to grab her by the arm to stop her rushing off and only the greater strength of the bugbear can keep the firbolg from vanishing.

I have already earmarked Cai as somewhat reticent to act after the incident with the ghost nanny, but his behaviour now is to become even more timid. Crying and pleading with Derrumbes not to leave him behind. He shakes and sobs and pleads until lazlo is forced to take his hand and calm him like a babe. It is obvious to me that the spirits of the dead children have possessed my two new compatriots.

It is at about this point that a more churlish man might have said "I told you so!"

Derrumbes-Lilly continually gabbling for the entire group to hurry up half drags K'hevin with the rest of us in tow into a larger storage room in the attic. It is strewn with half decayed boxes and dust sheets. Any attempt we might make to investigate the room is hampered by a third of our group bossing or crying and a further third trying to quieten and calm the 'children'. Lazlo makes a half hearted attempt to search a pile of boxes and recoils in disgust as his hand meets the long decayed bones of a human skeleton. From what is left of the clothing we quickly surmise that these are the physical remains of the ghost-nanny. Thankfully this time my warnings not to disturb the dead are heeded.

Derrumbe under the influence of Lilly Durst, presses a panel in the wall and opens a door to reveal a spiral stair plunging down into the dark. It will be a tight fit for a human - for the three seven foot giants amongst us this is going to be incredibly tight - I only hope we do not encounter anything on the way down.

Spike Durst
Oil on canvas
from memory
by the Author.

Derrumbe leads us dragging K'hevin - never ceasing in her gabbling bossy tone to 'Hurry up'. The rest of us follow with Cai sobbing and clinging to the Hand of Lazlo. Lazlo in turn sends his owl down ahead of us to 'scout out', immediately rendering himself blind to the location of his own feet. All six of us cramped into the steep narrow stair. Down and down we go, far deeper than the house is tall.

If it is possible to envisage a more bizarre and ill equipped company with which to go adventuring dear reader, then your imagination is better than mine.

At the bottom of the stair Derrumbe leads us one way with K'hevin in effective in restraining her. Lazlo sends his owl the other way and after a moment reports that he can see some tombs. Despite Lilly being adamnet that she knows where she is going I decide it is time to act and we must divest our fellows form the evil possession at our earliest opportunity. 

I take a moment to summon my ability to see clearly in the pitch black of the passegeways and share the ability with Lazlo instructing him to 'stay close', and i stride out purposefully in the direction his owl had taken.  Lazlo is forced to stay with me or be left in the dark with a sobbing and wailing Cai who has now taken to riding piggy back. With half the party setting off with purpose K'hevin finally has no choice but to get Derrumbe under control and follow.

Within a few dozen feet of narrow dank passageway we come across three pairs of tombs recessed into the walls. Lacking any ornamentation they first pair bare no label. the next pair are in the names of Lord and Lady Durst, and the final pair a few more feet down the passageway are for Lilly and Spike.

Reuben steps forwards with the children's bodies and for a moment there is confusion as to which small, sad bundle of bones is which. There is a horrid thought that the bones have become intermixed and will be near possible to identify and lay to rest but at least the Leonin had the presence of mind to keep the separately wrapped in blankets.

To the back drop of continual wailing from Cai, Derrumbes-Lilly realises what is about to happen and begs not to be laid to rest. With Cai out of action it falls to me to lay the bones to rest and say a short prayer to the spirit of the two long dead children. As their spirits are dismissed to whatever afterlife they have earned an eerie silence descends on the dark passageways.

Cai and Derrumbes return to what I can only consider to be their normal states of pestering questioning and pompous superiority and in the quiet of what we presume to be a dungeon we can hear the sound of chanting. Unable to make out the words and following just the rhythm of the noise we press forwards into a room that opens out a few feet from the tomb.

Finding myself at the head of the party due to my superior vision and prompt decision making as enter the room and my attention is immediately drawn to an alcove at one end. Writhing and uncoiling there is a tentacled and beaked monstrosity.

As I scan the room to consider what cover is to be had the monster senses our approach, turns its open maw towards the doorway and tenses to strike.

Next : Chapter IV - The Misplaced Axe

II - Infant Mortality

I can see that I shall have to keep an eye on Reuben should we by necessity spend any time together. He is somewhat wilful in his actions and I fear that his urgency to dash into a situation may yet be detrimental. Before anyone can offer reason he has his giant axe drawn and is checking the nearby rooms for the source of the crying. Pushing past others with his rumbling 'excuse me' and 'make way there'. Merely a pretence at politeness that his elbows and general bulk deny.

Opening the door the bugbear closely followed by the firbolg are confronted by what we initially presume to be a nursemaid or nanny cradling a crying infant. The maid turns to our assembled group and without a hint of surprise in the face of such a towering group of unlikely compatriots shushes them to silence so as not to frighten the babe.

Turning back to the crib the maid rests the infant down then silently floats through both K'hevin and Derrumbes past the group to another room and disappears into a mirror.

I am stunned. The apparition, once in the light of the hallway, is shown to be transparent and floating above the floor, is clearly a foul creature of some demonic creation such as I had begun studying at the Temple. Sadly I had yet to attain enough knowledge to fully identify the fell beast so shall here resort to the common nomenclature of Ghost.

Impression of the maid ghost.

Yet it was not the sudden appearance of and interaction with an unliving being that shocked me. It was the total inaction of the remainder of the party. Had I not been towards the rear, mostly due to the incessant pushing and elbowing of the giant bugbear I should have levelled my spear or invoked some divine strike upon the fiend. Yet not one other raised a hand in righteousness against the apparition. Most shocking of all was the inaction of my fellow devouts Cai and the Holy Warrior Reuben. 

I am beginning to wonder what manner of man, cat or celestial would suffer one of the unliving to exist? I challenged them so.

Reuben was remarkably silent on the matter but Cai offered only that "Not every situation has to be met with force." A remark that stung with the suggestion he thinks me so easily stirred to acts of violence. If only he knew what I already do. I resolve to address the issue at a later date and pray that I have the opportunity to do so and that his passive inaction does not lead us to harm.

Examining the mirror identifies it as a doorway that opens onto a dark dusty passage behind. 

Lazlo it seems has some nature of connection to his pet owl. Possessing the ability to see through its eyes. A feat that is somewhat more impressive in the saying of than it is in actuality. For although this means that he is able to send the owl far ahead and see in the dark, it does mean that at the same time he stumbles over his own feet and has to be lead like a sheep. Along with the bugbear's continual harumphing and the firbolg's inability to go more than a moment without a question about the most inane of subjects I fear if I must stay too long with this group that our chances of passing undetected are slim.

As a devotee of the space between night and day, my senses are as keen in the dark as they are at noon. But I am as yet wary of this group and do not wish to become their defacto vanguard for the simple expediency that I can see what the clumsy and noisy rest of them cannot.

As most of us are examining the passage way, Derrumbe attended to the child in the cot. Only to discover that the babe was naught more than an apparition itself and the cot was empty. This seemed to confuse her rather naïve state and she kept questioning whether vanishing was a regular occurrence for small humans,  I am yet to determine if the firbolg is so otherworldly as to have no experience of the real world or is just a simpleton.

Before embarking on the passageway the group shares information that they had not previously divulged. Namely that it seems they believe the master of the house, a certain Lord Durst, had sired a bastard with the nanny. In addition they believed that the monster in the basement the children had warned them about was in fact something to do with ritual sacrifice and potential cult worship.  They shared with me a letter that as much confirmed it. Although unbeknown to me at the time the author of the letter was to be no stranger to my nightmare for a long time to come.

My most pathetic servant,

I am not a messiah sent to you by the Dark Powers of this land. I have not come to lead you on a path to immortality. However many souls you have bled on your hidden altar, however many visitors you have tortured in your dungeon, know that you are not the ones who brought me to this beautiful land. You are but worms writhing in my earth.

You say that you are cursed, your fortunes spent. You abandoned love for madness, took solace in the bosom of another woman, and sired a bastard son. Cursed by darkness? Of that I have no doubt. Save you from your wretchedness? I think not. I much prefer you as you are.

Your dread lord and master,

Strahd von Zarovich

Reading of this letter sent shivers of dread down my spine. Images of Baxter Street and the horrors therein come floating back to me unbidden. Am I to be tested again so soon? Am I to be given no time in my holy studies to grow strong and prepare before I have to face that which I vowed to defeat? Momentarily I feel weak before I draw myself together and follow the bugbear into the passageway delving deeper into the Manor house.

Durst Manor. Charcoal sketch from memory.

Next : Chapter III - Child Care

I - Giant Menagerie

The stench of age an decay assaults my senses even before I can snap open my eyes.

What strangeness has befallen me I am unable to say, but I am not longer at prayer in my beloved temple where I was moments before the sweet serenity of meditation had enwrapped me. Instead I find myself knelt in a hall of what at first impressions appears to be a long since abandoned manor house. Four suits of rusty and dust covered armour align the walls and look down on me dispassionately. A large unlit fireplace dominates one wall, breaking up the oak panelling whilst behind me is a once grand staircase sweeping both up and down. The red carpeted stair is thread bare, moth eaten and rank with the general decay of the whole place.

Barely have I an opportunity to come to my senses but I hear movement and a deep voice from the staircase. Turning quickly I position my spear and shield and make ready for whatever might assault may come my way.

I barely have time to prepare when ambling up the stairs is what I initially thought to be a walking hearth rug in giant form some four hands or more taller than I, humming and muttering to itself with an energetic and far too bouncy small dog of indeterminate breed.

K'hevinK'hostner

What manner of creature this was I did not know but it addressed me in the common tongue and introduced itself as K'hevin. I believe this may be a creature I have heard stories of and seen etchings of knowns as a bugbear. It claims to have no more idea of how it came to this place than I do. Given my own confusion on the subject and despite the vast array of axes and other weaponry the creature carries I am inclined to give it the benefit of the doubt and assume for now that it offers no immediate hostility.

On inspection the dog bears a collar inscribed with the name Lancelot. It does not seem malnurished or maltreated nor does it wish to leave us, though K'hevin claims it is not his.

I exchange formalities and introductions with the creature K'hevin as we each seek to understand where we are, how we arrived here without giving up too much information that might weaken our positions. Its is a dance I know all too well from my street patrolling days in the criminal world. I come to the judgement that K'hevin is male. Polite enough though brash he also smells not faintly of alcohol.

Before I can investigate further, noises from the floor above alert us that we two are not alone. I prepare to move cautiously up the curving stairs only to find that my new companion is somewhat less circumspect and has taken the lead with his largest axe drawn. At least this means I do not have to worry about the giant behind me.

On the landing at the top of the stairs we find a small group of others, the first sight of which I can only describe as a menagerie.

Lazlo

It seems K'hevin and I are merely the latest unwilling travellers to whatever this place is. Cautious pleasantries and introductions are made and it seems the other four are not surprised to meet newcomers. It appears they have only recently arrived in similar uncertain circumstances.

There is one other human that goes by the name of Lazlo. By his garments and lack of overt defences I presume he was either plucked from his boudoir where he was reclining in a robe as the well to do are want. On seeing his pet owl and the way in which he interacts with it I conclude he is some form of spellcaster, 

Reuben Redclaw 

Beyond Lazlo I am both surprised and gratified to see symbols of religions that I recognise. Yet they adorn creatures that I know not except in portraiture the adorns the temple. The first is a giant fur covered feline that I understand is a Leonin. He names himself Reuben. Bedecked in polished armour from head to paw and proudly displaying its deity's symbol this quietly imposing creature is clearly some form of holy warrior. 

Cai

The second is what the mothers on my old patrol would have referred to as 'touched' human in form but blessed by the celestials Cai stands tall and proud, his hair, sin and eyes practically glow as though he is an earthbound wing clipped angel. His bearing, manner and robes proclaim his religious affiliation.

The last of the small group confuses me the most. Blue of skin, with a mane of wild red hair and again giant in stature it rivals the bugbear and Leonin in height if not in build. It goes by the name of Derrumbes and is obviously female. I try to hide my confusion as to her race but ascertain from the conversation that this is a firbolg - a species I have not encountered. 

Derrumbes

It seems I am not the only one confused; from the firbolg's conversation it seems she has very little experience in our world and refers often to 'above ground' as though it is a foreign place.  Her robes are woven of simple cloth and lack colour or ornamentation except for the simply carved symbol I presume to represent some nature goddess or other. 

As introductions are made it becomes clearer that the remainder of the group are ignorant of where we are, why we are here, or what brought us here. All they know is that they awoke to find themselves outside of the house with a pair of young children begging their help to save their parents from a monster in the basement. Their exploration of the house so far has proved fruitless and uneventful other than being accosted by an animated suit of armour shortly before I joined them.

As we continue to explore this floor of the manner we open a few doors and inspect the decaying contents of bedrooms. There are remnants of household clutter, furniture and clothes all aged and decayed beyond measure. Even the décor in this place is vile and almost alive with horrors. In one such room we chance upon some jewellery upon a dresser. Along with the jewellery is an unsent letter that reads.

My Dear Mrs. Petrovna,

Your advice on dealing with the unwanted fiend in my home is very good advice indeed. Tonight's ceremony will proceed as planned when the moon is at its highest peak - without, of course, the attendance of Mr. Durst. I must agree with you that, yes, with such an innocent sacrifice our proceedings may have better results. Although, "innocent" is not quite the term I would use.

My Thanks,

Mrs. Elisabeth Durst

I cannot find it in me to muster much objection when the items are quickly snatched and placed in a backpack. To thieve from such a place is of dubious morality, but I hope I have not fallen in with common thieves. 

I take the letter to study - the mention of a fiend immediately has my hackles raised and an innocent sacrifice does nothing to sooth my distress. It seems that whatever has transpired in this house and the monster in the basement is not unknown to the Lady of the house.

I broach the matter of theft with Cai, but before we can conduct more than the briefest of conversations we are interrupted by the sounds of a child crying from an adjacent room.

I cannot help but have a bad feeling about this.

Next : Chapter II - Infant Mortality

Preface

Allow me to introduce myself dear reader. I am Deacon-Sergeant Athen Varmek, novice cleric of this parish and previous servant of the City Watch.

I avow that what follows is a true and accurate account of the strange experiences that befell your humble advocate. Whilst every effort has been made to record with the utmost honesty, any errors in fact - or indeed in spelling or grammar - may simply be attributed to the extreme stress that you shall see the author has experienced. It is a matter of some pride that it remained possible to scribe in a journal throughout; such were the privations endured. I am sure the discerning reader will overlook any occasional lapse in standards.

I make no claim to be the hero of this story, only its narrator. Nor do I claim that I set out on these adventures with a noble purpose. As you will soon see a path was set before me that I had little choice but to tread. Where that path branched, I hope I demonstrate that the necessary path was chosen, even if it may not at first seem just. I pray that my actions may be judged sincere, not only by a reader of this journal but by the gods in this life and the next.

Deacon Sergeant Athen Varmek.
Likeness captured in oil
shortly before his resignation from
The City Watch following
The Horrors of Baxter Street and his
investiture as Deacon and
his subsequent disappearance

Any acclaim that might come from these writings is not by design, but merely from the diligence of this simple actor to document the play in which he found himself cast. 

I commit these memoirs to you, in the hope that you find them instructive. They may fall short of being a moral tale, such as those found in the greatest of the learned writings, but I hope that some cautionary advice might be gleaned that may prevent the reader from falling foul of similar evil most grievous.

At this juncture I am reminded of the missive of a great man of state, Edmundo Bruke, commenting upon social upheaval in a neighbouring land.

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men* to do nothing."

Would that we all took such wisdom to heart, then the events I am about to describe would never come to pass. If there is one lesson I should wish you to take from this prose, it is not to wait for a hero of any stature but to stand and be counted in the face of evil.

But enough of my desires. I commend the reader to continue with an open mind for the tale that unfolds may challenge your sensibilities and credulity. I can only attest to its veracity with the utmost energy. Doubt the tale if you must - for I cannot command you to do otherwise - but most of all read on with the hope that what unfolds here may never happen to you.

Next : Chapter I - Giant Menagerie

* with the Author's apologies to those that do not identify with the term 'men'. As you shall soon see my efforts alone would have made a poorer and shorter tale. There are many other actors on this stage with greater import than I. Many of whom would be insulted to be considered human. It may also come as a surprise to a certain set of readers that a considerable portion of the success of this tale is directly attributed to those of the female gender. If such ideas shock you dear reader then the author can merely offer his sincerest hopes that your mind is opened and your prejudices brought crashing down like a great stone castle wall at the earliest opportunity.