Chronicles of Vieliria

[Roddek]

Roddek shrugged. "Kraken's Port? The Mountains of Skey? I haven't heard of your lands much either m'self and I don't see how it helps us now."

[alhoon]

What's your name and where do you come from?"

When asked, the youth smiled and made a short bow, as elegant as it could be from a man carrying a backpack. As he does so, the group can see a couple of musical instruments tied on his backpack; a flute and a small guitar.
"I am Arneu, a troubadour from the land of Richemulot, but I have traveled in many wonderful places and learned many interesting stories and heartmoving songs. I have dinned with the rich and shared drinks with the poor. I've seen splendid manors and hovels made of dirt"
It's clear by Arneu's manners that he has a high opinion of himself.

Roddek shrugged. "Kraken's Port? The Mountains of Skey? I haven't heard of your lands much either m'self and I don't see how it helps us now."

Listening to the dwarf name places, Arneu made a slight grimace. He looked to him and then to the others "Stout dwarf, I believe you are what we call "an outlander". While this place is not Dementlieu and I hope it's not Falkovnia either," Arneu said and made a passing apologetic grimace to Wilfred "it's locked in the land of the mists along with all those places we mentioned; Enlightened Dementlieu, Richemulot of intrigue, Large Darkon and mighty Falkovnia. Your place I'm afraid is... outside the Mists. You are from a different world; you are ... an outlander."

[VAN]

Boiros listens at the places Roddek mentioned trying to remember if has ever heard any of them, but failed. When Arneu says his theory that the dwarf might be an outlander Boiros nods since this was the most plausible probability.

"I have to agree with Arneu, my friend, I haven't heard any of the places you mentioned. So we have two possibilities, or you got to us or we got to your land which I thought was impossible but right now I don't feel to exclude anything. So please if you see anything familiar here, just name it."

Noticing the musical instruments Boiros asks the bard:

"You are a bard right? So I guess you have heard stories and read more books than any of us, am I right? Does this place look familiar?"

[alhoon]

Arneu gives a slight smile to the Anchorite "I prefer the term Troubadour pious Anchorite. "Bard" in the minds of some people has some... complicating connotations with the forbidden arts of magic.
I don't know if I know more stories than any of you, but I know that I know of many stories and I have read many books in my short life. Unfortunatelly, with the mist and the falling darkness, I can't see much of this place to be able to tell if I've traversed those lands sharing songs and stories with the people here.
But I can see apple orchards and although I couldn't tell from the distance with certainity, they seem well tended. So there are probably houses nearby where we can ask for more information and the chance to dry off. It will be night soon, I suggest we discuss our predicament on the way to find a hospitable home and perhaps a warm bowl of soup."

[VAN]

Boiros looks at the apple orchards and smiles Arneu has a point indeed if the trees are tended someone should take care of them and this someone shouldn't be far away either.

"You have good eyes my friend, lead the way!"

[Varrus the Ethical]

Wil looks around, scratching his beard. "May as well, I guess."

[VAN]

While walking Boiros thinks that is better know few things about the others before go to the town, village or whatever is nearby and also would be nice have a story of how they got there. He has heard stories about lands where magic is forbidden and everything that gets out of the ordinary get burnt or worse...And by no reason wants to try his luck.

"I think we need to start talking a bit about ourselves guys, and make up a story of how we get here. Since we don't know where we are, we don't know if people are familiar with the mists, the outlanders etc. So better be prepared, if we find out that it is safe say that we have no idea where we are and why we got here then we can start sharing more...I will start about myself. As I told you my name is Boiros and I'm an Anchorite from the Dementlieu sect. I was born in Port a Lucine the capital of the small domain of Dementlieu that borders Darkon where have lived till one year ago. But I have the burnt desire to know more about the true nature of my goddess, the Lady of Mists. Father Thomas, an estimated member of our sect with a lot of knowledge that has traveled a lot has suggested that I have to visit Darkon, a large prosperous kingdom that has fallen in dark times recently, and the other sects there. So I took a ship to Martira Bay where I visited the library and the churches but didn't find anything I didn't know. So I joined a caravan that went to Viaki, hoping that there I could find some answers. I have never had the opportunity to get there though. We have stopped at a village two days away from our destination for the night when suddenly a strange silence got the village, no sound could be heard. Messengers were sent to Viaki to ask help, but nobody arrived. Me and few others tried to help as we can but we failed. The next day a Legate arrived and demanded to know what happened. Unable to give a plausible solution decided on spot that was my fault because I was a foreigner cleric...His men tired to get me but kind Ezra covered me with her shield and was able to defend myself from the attackers. I took the horse from one of the Legate's guards and rode as fast as I can to escape. I rode for 2 straight days before I saw few wagons at the distance. Both me and my horse were exhausted so I seeked shelter there. I had the honor to met their leader an amazing woman called Isolde. She permitted me to stay at the Carnival and be a part of them. I felt like home again. So when two months later she asked me and 3 others to go to a village nearby and help them get rid of a ghost that was appearing at the forest the first day of every month I couldn't refuse to help. Isolde told us how to make the ritual that would put the ghost to rest. We basically needed 8 people to be in a circle, while a powerful spell was casted. We went to the village, tried to do our best to get the villagers to trust us so we can ask them in return to help us with the ritual. Indeed 5 of them agreed so at the first of the month we went at the forest we waited the ghost to manifest and then me and 7 were at the circle while a young wizard of our group casted the spell. Everything was done in perfection and the ghost has been disappeared for good. When we departed to get back to Carnival, as I was walking with my companions, mists started to raise and next thing I know is to be here with you guys. Any ideas of a make up story we can use?"

[alhoon]

As the group traversed the circumference of the hill, trying to find a farm house or village, their steps led them to keep climbing the gentle slope of the hill as the sky was turning progressively darker with the rays of the sun barely visible behind the misty barrier. Alert from their ordeal at the Mists, the lengthening shadows and the stiring foliage by the wind, the minds of the group kept seeing things in the shadows that were not there. Hands were reaching for weapons as wind rustled fallen leaves or a bird landed on a tree branch. The late afternoon was suspiciously serene and calm for the imaginations of four people brought together suddenly and inexplicably by the Mists.
After Boiros finished his tale Arneu added "You'll have to tell me more about the Carnival, Isolde and the ghost friend. A balad of an anchorite, a ghost and a beautiful lady as I've heard that Isolde is would make many tavern patron happy. And when the tavern patrons are happy the tavern keeper is generous.

As for my story... not as exciting I'm afraid. I have traveled back home in the city of Montigny, one of the three cities of the domain of Richemulot, to visit family. After resting for a couple of weeks and visiting relatives, I decided to visit the enlightened domain of Dementlieu, with its institutions of higher learning and people that value knowledge and art.
I decided to not travel by road, since I would have to cross into the not very friendly domain of Falkovnia, ruled by Vlad Drakov. I'm not in bad terms with the Falkovnian military that enforces Drakov's will in the domain, but it's better to not test such things.
Instead, I decided to traverse the woods bordering the Richemulot city of Ste.Rongers using a guide and cross into the sleepy, quiet and technologically advanced domain of Mordent. I would reach Mordent's capital of Mordentshire with its libraries and lamps and then get to Dementlieu by ship, after visiting a couple of friends residing in that sleepy town.
Yet, as we were crossing into Mordentshire, we found a small group of vistani, the mysterius gypsies protected by Count Strahd von Zarovich of the domain of Barovia, that are the only people in the world that can traverse the mists safely.
They invited us to camp with them, and we traded songs and stories with the small group. I told them of my destination and they offered to bring me to Dementlieu for a price, getting me there through the mists of Mordent, promising me that it would be an adventure worth of many songs.
Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the warmth, perhaps it was the dancing women with the colored skirts and the lively songs, but I believed them. I payed Madam Erishya, their matron, and bid farewell to my guide. The vistani wagons, which they call "vardo" wheeled into the mists. After a completely uneventful day in the Mists, yes, the Mists, the vistani told me that I was at my destination, bid me farewell, left me standing in the parting mists and wheeled away.
Next thing I know, I was in a forest, near a lake. And then I heard you guys as the Mists cleared."

[Varrus the Ethical]

Wil arches an eyebrow. Wow, these people talk alot.

He clears his throat. "Since we seem to be telling our life stories, I'll guess I'll take my turn."

"I was, until very recently, from the forests of Falkovina. I made a pretty good living hunting game and helping travelers moving between the settlements. On the side, I helped slaves and other desperate people escape from under the boot of Vlad Drakov." His voice fills with venom as he speaks the name of the Dark Lord.

[Roddek]

Roddek echoed Wil's thoughts. "You all talk too much." He looked about as each crack of a branch or rustling of leaves made him reach for his axe and shield. If pressed for his background he'd say, "I already told you. I was leading my clan to war against the orcs that were attacking friends of my family. I was standing watch when these mists came about and now I'm here."

[Varrus the Ethical]

Wil steals a glance at the lake. "You don't suppose there's any way to ask the mists to take us back? Because there are a lot of people who count on me. Not just desperate folk trying to avoid impalement at the hands of Drakov, but also people who rely on the game I kill to keep them fed through the winter months."

[VAN]

Boiros looks back at the remaining mists.

"Unfortunately I doubt this is possible. I don't know much about the mists and how and why do what they do, but I do know that we can't control them. Neither I, an Anchorite of Lady of the Mists have control on them. Only Vistani have a sort of power on them but are tricky and Arneu is the proof. He supposed to be in Dementlieu and he is stuck with us here. So our best bet is move, figure out where we are and then make a plan to return back."

[alhoon]

As the group moves higher and the sun sinks lower, they can see by the dying light of the sun a village at a distance of an hour or two, slightly obscured by the fog as is everything. On the left of them, hidden by them before by the side of the hill, they can see a wooden farmhouse, along with an adjoined sheep pen and what is probably a storehouse for the apples and tools of the farmer. The farm is surrounded by a small wooden fence. The house seems to be in good order, the tiled roof repaired and the wooden walls covered by planks so the logs won't show. The sheep have entered their pen and lie lazily on the grass while a man can be seen chopping firewood in the front yard. He's of average height, with dark brown hair that has start to turn gray, seems to be in his mid forties and he' dressed in a brown tunic and gray trousers of the quality expected for a farmer about to turn in for the night.
As they come into view, the aroma of baked applepie left to chill on the window reaches the group reminding them it's time for supper and the reassuring innocent laugh of children playing can be heard from the backyard.

A gray dog with a full fur lies near the man. As the clinging sounds of weapon on armor the group makes reaches the dog, he rises his head towards the newcomers and gives a warning bark when they are a couple of hundred feet away. The man turns around and his gaze catches the heavily armed and armored people that approach his property. His already concerned expression turns to outright worry as his eyes set on the dwarf.
Clatching the axe in his two hands he takes a step back and calls "Frid! Stop repairing the wall and come here. We have visitors!" The dog, sensing the uneasiness of his master also sprung to his feet.
A couple of seconds later, a young man in his early 20s comes out of the adjoining storage building. He's also of average height and built, has dark brown hair and is dressed in a similar loose and low quality attire as the older man. "I don't have enough light anyway father, I'll fix it... " he said before seeing his father holding the axe tightly and follows his gaze to the armed group. His eyes too seem to harden when he sees the dwarf.

"That's far enough!" The young man called Frid said to the group. "State your business!"

[VAN]

Boiros gets a step forward and raises his heads in a not threatening way.

"Hello good Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt your work. My name is Boiros Brouillard and these are my friends Arneu, Wil and Roddek. We come in peace. We just arrived at the village and we are trying to find a place to spend the night and maybe have something to eat."

[alhoon]

The farmers don't seem to be convinced by the words of the ancorite. They don't say anything but they exchange a glance and keep their posture.
The older man finally says "Aye, Harpton village is down the hill, about a quarter of an hour's walk from here. Keep the hill in your back and you'll reach it eventually. You may have to hurry. With the fog and night falling you would have a hard time finding it if you tally here too long.
The gates close at sunset, so you won't make it, but it's safe enough outside the walls, especially for so well armed fellows, and it's not that cold a night. If you don't have food, we could pass you an apple pie, bread and a bit of cold chicken, left overs from the lunch if you promise to pay and leave us unharmed."

The sound of the village's name gets Arneu's attention. He steps in front of the others, in an unthreatening posture dropping the belt holding his rapier to grassy ground before stepping ahead. "Did you say Harpton village my good man? May it be the province of Lord Matheron, cousin of Lord Alfeden?
If so, I had the honor of performing for his lordship a couple of years ago. I stayed in a village called so for a couple of nights with another wandering performer. I was playing the flute, she was singing and dancing. We juggled a bit. I was told it was a memorable performance. We so enjoyed our time there. Good, honest folk the people that tend Lord Matheron's land. Sturdy and dependable. "

The words and posture of the bard seem to better affect the cautious farmers. The man called Frid even broke a smile "Yeah! I think I remeber you now! You are... forgive me, I forget your name. I still remember that the dancer was called Iderine. Yeah, it was a couple of months before I got married."
Arneu gives a mock sigh and a chuckle "So, I guess Iderine made a bigger impression than poor Arneu. I blame it all in her beautiful golden locks and green eyes. Quite enough to catch the attention of a young lad. "

At this point Frid's father, still holding the axe but with a more relaxed posture intervened and addressed his son. They exchanged a few quick words in silence and then he turned to the adventures.
"As your friend say, we are a good and hospitable people. Let it never be said that Tyrem sent people away in the middle of the night, stambling in the darkness to sleep outside Harpton's gates. You are welcome to spend the night with us if you want. It will have to be the warehouse I'm afraid, or the pen if you don't mind the smell as we have little space. You could tell us stories of the outside world, perhaps your friend Arneu would play a bit of music for dinner, and we would feed you for your trouble. Tomorrow morning you could continue your trip to the village.
What do you say?"