Session 8 — The Inn Has Wolf Heads On The Walls, Which Tracks

Session 8 — The Inn Has Wolf Heads On The Walls, Which Tracks

Toma shook everyone's hands on the way out. This had the side effect of coating all four party members in whatever residue a blacksmith accumulates when he's been running a forge while also making experimental poison. He told them to keep their eyes open for his nephew Miro, who scouted the road to Castle Ravenloft some months ago and never came back — signs of a scuffle, possible evidence he was taken to Ravenflot, or possibly he just wandered off and died. Toma's exact words conveyed hope. The party filed this under active concerns and set off on the Old Svalich Road.

What Happened

They had barely cleared camp when the residue from Toma's handshake made itself known. The party rolled D4s. Merich and Brother Moro drew the short end and drifted off in the back of the wagon into warm, comfortable narcosis. The remaining two — Celeste and Sable Burrowbane — retained consciousness but found themselves pleasantly distracted. Celeste daydreamed about a childhood friend named Timothy, with whom she had been a mutual outcast among the other children and who, she noted, was considerably more interesting than anyone who had ever wanted to be a Power Ranger. Sable remembered the first time something threatened her burrow: a large fox, a crossbow too big to lift, a rock to prop it on, a bolt that connected, and results that were instructive and permanent. It was a formative moment. It left her at a perceptual disadvantage, which she would have been fine with, except the wolves were already there.

The crows stopped. The horse stopped wanting to walk. Six ordinary wolves stepped out of the fog-choked trees and stood in front of the wagon, with three dire wolves behind them, and then the six and three parted because something else wanted to come through.

The Alpha was enormous. Black fur, red glowing eyes, a sigil burning at its throat. Its vocal cords were not designed for speech. Something was making it speak anyway. It looked at Sable — specifically Sable, who was the one with the crossbow raised — and said: The master watches. He wants to know your worth. And so you shall be weighed.

Celeste and Sable woke the other two.

Combat. Nine wolves plus three dire wolves plus one speaking Alpha. The Alpha opened with a howl — DC14 Wisdom save — which frightened Ireena Kolyana, Ismark Kolyana, and Sable until the end of their next turns. This information delighted nobody.

Sable opened fire from partial cover in the wagon bed. Merich's spiritual weapon swung. Brother Moro's cat entered the field and immediately began contributing in the way that Celeste's cat always contributes, which is to say just enough to technically count. Ismark did 30 damage to a dire wolf in one turn with a longsword and a shortsword, which was the turn's statistical highlight outside of combat. The horses were frightened. Wolf 6 was blind for reasons never fully explained. The Alpha burrowed, teleported, and reappeared in the tree line.

Brother Moro put a Stunning Strike on the Alpha and hit with a dirty 20. The Alpha made its Con save. The Alpha's fur was covered in a sticky black substance that was not claw marks, which Brother Moro noticed on a Perception of 18 and was accordingly cautious about. He used Tavern Brawler to push the Alpha into a dead wolf, which seemed like the right place for it. The Alpha responded by poof-ing back into the tree line and saying, quietly, interesting — and then left.

The remaining wolves lasted one more round. Wolf 6 kept missing due to disadvantage. The party cleaned up the pack.

Celeste attempted to skin a wolf for her cat. She rolled a 6. She got a few strips of fur and one clean tail. The cat received the tail. The cat seemed satisfied with this outcome in the way that a cat seems satisfied with anything when you already know how the conversation is going to end.

The party took a short rest — Sable drove, everyone else rode — and came down the Old Svalich Road as night fell. The town of Vallaki materialized out of the fog as a sullen mountain berg, wooden palisade, thick fog pressing against the walls hoping to find a way inside, and six pikes outside the gate with wolf heads on them. The gate itself was iron, chained, padlocked. Two guards shouted from the other side: Who goes there?

The guards, once they had confirmed that no one in the party hissed when touching the silver inlaid in the gate, let them through and directed them to the Blue Water Inn: center of town, unmissable, gray smoke, raven-covered roof.

The town itself looked like it had recently had a festival. Or rather, it looked like it perpetually had a festival — old garlands, faded paint, wilting flowers in window boxes, all of it just slightly past the point where anyone had cleaned it up. The streets had people in them, which was already unusual by Barovian standards. Nobody looked great. Nobody looked like they were about to cry into a doorframe, either. This was progress.

The Blue Water Inn was a two-story wooden building with a stone foundation, a sagging tile roof, and ravens perched on every visible surface. Wolf heads hung on wooden plaques inside. The bar was tended by a woman named Danica, whose husband Irwin was in the kitchen. Their two young sons — Brahm and Bray — ran circuits through the common room. Five patrons, two of them obviously regulars.

Sable paid one silver to stable the horse, whom she has named Bill. Brother Moro inspected the stable's ravens (dozens of them on the loft railing) and rolled a Perception of 24. He was informed none of them work for Strahd. They're just birds. Doing bird things. There is a sign about the silver rate and a man named Irwin who handles it.

Rooms: 10 silver per night, two beds per room. Three rooms. Ismark covered the silver without being asked in a way that suggested he had not expected to be covering it but was picking his battles. The boys showed the party to their rooms: cozy beds, wolf-fur blankets, black wardrobes, shuttered windows, locks that work from the inside. Brahm and Bray were extremely excited to report that two wolf hunters stay at the inn full-time.

Celeste spoke with Danica at the bar. Vallaki is fine, as much as anything is fine. The guard is under the Burgomaster's control. The church — St. Andrew's Church — is said to have bones in it that protect against Strahd's incursions, which Danica related with the confidence of someone who believes it because she has to believe something. Celeste asked about Miro. Danica knew only that the Vistani don't come into town much, buy wine occasionally, and she didn't know any of their names personally. She suggested that if the party needed somewhere safe for a young woman, the church was the place to start.

Sable found a dark corner of the common room, rolled a 17 on Stealth, and spent the rest of the evening being invisible. On a Perception of 18 she identified the room's population: Danica and Irwin working; Brahm and Bray causing mischief; two wolf hunters — Zoldar Zoldarovich and Yevgeny Krushkin — keeping to themselves at their regular table, worn and purposefully quiet; two drunk brothers at the bar being cheerfully ignored by Danica; and one man, sitting alone, nursing refills, who had clocked the party when they came in and did not notice Sable slip into the shadows. She is watching him.

The session ended with the party installed in their rooms, the Alpha's interesting still hanging in the air, and a mysterious solo man at the bar with too many eyes for someone who isn't looking at anything.

Key Decisions

NPCs Met

Locations Visited

Items Found

Loose Threads