Mists of Winter: Chapter One

[ewancummins]

Vladislav



Vladislav hears merry singing voices echoing down the dark lane ahead of him. He knows the tune, but the foreign words do not match his memory.

He spots candles bobbing in the gloom like will of wisps, and then sees the pack of green-clad revelers lurching towards him in ragged formation.

[Adam]

BENNEDICT

He rips a scrap of paper from his notebook, lying it down on the desk in front of Mattheo.

"The rapidity of the theft strikes me as odd," Benn rambles, "But you're probably right. I see nothing here to suggest anything besides a robbery by professionals. I suggest you clean up anything incriminating from the shop and report it to the genarmes in the morning. I'll keep an ear out for anyone matching the description of the thieves or the Borcan man. For now, anything you can recall from the translation you had completed may be of use in retrieving the scroll. I'll clean up a bit while you write."

With that he begins straightening up inside the shop, keeping an eye out for any details he may have missed.

[kintire]

She pauses and eyes the man slightly doubtfully, looking a little embarrassed at being sweet "talked" by a dog then shrugs, sitting down in the proffered chair. She is a young woman of around twenty, 5' 9 with raven hair and dark eyes. She is wearing a slightly daring dress, and looks fit, but rather tired.

"I'll never say no to a free meal! I'm Kat. Pleased to meet you, Franz! Its always good to see new customers in here!

[ewancummins]

THE MARBLE FAUN

BENNEDICT

He rips a scrap of paper from his notebook, lying it down on the desk in front of Mattheo.

"The rapidity of the theft strikes me as odd," Benn rambles, "But you're probably right. I see nothing here to suggest anything besides a robbery by professionals. I suggest you clean up anything incriminating from the shop and report it to the genarmes in the morning. I'll keep an ear out for anyone matching the description of the thieves or the Borcan man. For now, anything you can recall from the translation you had completed may be of use in retrieving the scroll. I'll clean up a bit while you write."

With that he begins straightening up inside the shop, keeping an eye out for any details he may have missed.

Mattheo scribbles away while Benn looks about the shop.

Lots of books and scrolls and broadsheets.


Benn spots a copy of the chapbook authored by Dorgio, an account of the Lady-Killer murders and the priest’s theories about the madness of Jonathon Matyr.

This copy looks legitimate, with the correct typesetting and literary style; unlike some knock-offs Benn has come across in the last few months. The brief popularity of the book had inspired a number of printers to turn out their own unauthorized copies. Those books carried numerous errors and alterations; in one version, Benn appears as a ‘rock jawed’, ‘statuesque’ Lamordian hero who spends more time caning miscreants and ravishing all-too-willing chambermaids than reading old books or getting hit over the head.

[Adam]

Bennedict smirks, reflecting that he needed to track down some of those knock-off authors to write up some of his other adventures, before continuing his work.

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

GUNDARAKITE DISTRICT

“You are sure, Dorgio? Not even a cupful?”

The Priest of the Morninglord shakes his head, however reluctantly. He sits in the parlor of his cousin Konstanz, who holds aloft a large bottle of palinka. The strong fruit brandy has been one of Dorgio’s favorite drinks, and there is clear regret in his face as he refuses. “Only small beer.” The watery brew in Dorgio’s mug is pitifully weak stuff, but he’s told Lorna he would avoid spirits, at least until the child is born.

Konstanz laughs and takes a long slug from his bottle. “Ever the strange one, cousin. Since seventeen I’ve been married. I’ve brought four children into the world, each more ungrateful in the last, and I have never been putting away the…traditions of our homeland.” Another swig. “Traditions, Dorgio! Your Mordentish bride has made you soft.”

“That,” the holy man says with a sly grin, “Is the exact opposite of what happens.”

Konstanz lets out a long, loud laugh and slaps his thigh. “Where in hells did you find a Mordenter who spoke Luktar?”

“Like I said before, my friend, the sea.”

“Women and the sea, they are bad mixes, that is what they say in the old country.”

“The old country is landlocked, Konstanz.”

“Just like you, you sober bore! Ah, but listen, here come the faithful. You’d better go tend to your flock. But…please Dorgio, one drink before you don your robes?”

Dorgio tilts his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. He’s told Lorna nothing but small beer, but he is not made of stone.

A few minutes later, with the vestments of the faith draped about his shoulders and a warmer feeling in his gullet, he steps out of Konstanz’s front door to greet his fellow Gundarakites. “My friends! Nevermore Night approaches—let us give thanks to The Morninglord, for the long nights will soon be behind us once more!"

[steveflam]

She pauses and eyes the man slightly doubtfully, looking a little embarrassed at being sweet "talked" by a dog then shrugs, sitting down in the proffered chair. She is a young woman of around twenty, 5' 9 with raven hair and dark eyes. She is wearing a slightly daring dress, and looks fit, but rather tired.

"I'll never say no to a free meal! I'm Kat. Pleased to meet you, Franz! Its always good to see new customers in here!

Franz is over six feet tall, muscular. He bears a bandana wrapped around his head, but has deep blue eyes. He sports a winter cloak atop a fine looking chain shirt and tunic. A large sword was strapped to his back but he has since leaned it against the wall near his seat. A scabbard rests at each hip as well.

A backpack rests at his feet.

I think I might have come in here a few years ago with dis Dorgio or another person I knew here in Pont A Museau. His name is Benn. I forget his last name. I tink he might have been originally from Barovia but I can not be certain, this Dorgio.
It is my pleasure to treat you to a meal, Kat. Maybe you could help me find this Dorgio or Benn later or tomorrow?"

Franz has since slid a few coins across the table to pay for his and Kat's meal for the serving lady.

"Don't let Munchen fool you. HE is a big baby when it comes to making new friends. I saved him from a certain death when he was younger and he just stayed with me." The man looks with affection at his animal companion and grins.

[JMaytr]

Vladislav hears merry singing voices echoing down the dark lane ahead of him. He knows the tune, but the foreign words do not match his memory.

He spots candles bobbing in the gloom like will of wisps, and then sees the pack of green-clad revelers lurching towards him in ragged formation.

Curious by the tune, Vladislav pulls his cloak tight about him and watches the group with a weary eye.

[ewancummins]

THE MARBLE FAUN
Benn finds no other signs of the burglary.

A peek through the inner shutters shows that full dark has fallen over the city. Here and there, lanterns glimmer from the doorways and windows of shops and houses, casting small circles of light into the enveloping gloom of the empty street. Wind shakes the green glass panes and rattles the front doorknob.

The sound of the wind fades.

The front door creaks, quivering against the jamb.

Looking that way, Benn sees the brass knob begin to turn…

THE STREETS OF THE GUNDARAKITE QUARTER

DORGIO
Dorgio’s congregation greets him with the customary good cheer. After praying in an open air ritual led by Dorgio, the folk return to their japes and merry-making. A fat old Teufeldorfer smith, stripped to the waist despite the winter chill, stands by his open forge and warms mugs of ale by thrusting a hot poker into the brew. A stout laborer thrusts a flagon of the steaming drink under Dorgio’s nose. Someone hands him a hot pastry. The scent of apples and paprika rises from little holes poked in the brown crust.

Young women file past the priest with heads bowed, ready for a quick benediction. Kerchiefs of yellow, green or blue stand out against the drab hues of their winter cloaks, sprigs of green holly hang at each white neck. A pretty green-eyed maiden smiles at the priest as she curtseys before him, and again, looking back over her shoulder as she moves off down the lane, away from the crowd.



VLADISLAV
Vladislav recognizes the lilting accents now, the homespun clothing that seems at once familiar and strange. No true Barovians, these, but Gundarakites. He spots a dark-haired man dressed in priestly robes, moving amid the people. The clergyman leads a brief invocation—familiar in form if not in the language used in the liturgy. After the short ritual, the people resume their dancing, eating, and drinking in the streets.

AT THE SIGN OF THE TWO GOATS
Munchen closes his eyes and lets his heavy head sink to the floor. Soon the dog rolls onto one side, snoring. After another minute or so, his legs begin kicking, as if he were running.

[JMaytr]

Vladislav approaches while the clergy man cites his prayer. He watches the crowd and waits for the man to finish. When he does, Vladislav approaches.

"A fine sermon friend, I am Vladislav. I am new in yours town, and your speech has lifting my spirits on this day. For this I am thanking you."

[Adam]

BENNEDICT

Benn's pulse quickens involuntarily and the words to a prayer of warding spring unbidden into his mind, before he banishes them with irritation. This isn't Gauntcliffe he reminds himself.

"Are you expecting company, Mattheo?" He says, overloud so anymore would-be robbers know that the building is occupied.

[ewancummins]

BENNEDICT

Benn's pulse quickens involuntarily and the words to a prayer of warding spring unbidden into his mind, before he banishes them with irritation. This isn't Gauntcliffe he reminds himself.

"Are you expecting company, Mattheo?" He says, overloud so anymore would-be robbers know that the building is occupied.

"At this hour?"

Mattheo shakes his head.

He dashes behind the counter and returns in a moment with a harquebus.
The Invidian fumbles with a burning candle, trying to light the slow match while holding the long, heavy weapon in the crook of one arm.

The knob stops turning and begins shaking.
The door rattles against the low table that barricades it on the inside, under the knob.

Mattheo curses as the candle fizzles out before the match takes fire.
He turns to Benn and asks in a whisper,
"Benn, did you see me lock that door?"

[Adam]

Seeing Mattheo's reaction, he recalls the prayer of protection, muttering it under his breath as he walks towards the door. "Point that away, please," he says. "I'd rather not be shot in the back."

He steps to the rattling door and grasps the knob, taking a deep breath and pulling it open.

[ewancummins]

Seeing Mattheo's reaction, he recalls the prayer of protection, muttering it under his breath as he walks towards the door. "Point that away, please," he says. "I'd rather not be shot in the back."

He steps to the rattling door and grasps the knob, taking a deep breath and pulling it open.

A cloaked figure stands in the doorway, silhouetted by torchlight.


“Bennedict Gehrman!”

Charlotte casts back her hood and glares up at her husband.
Benn spots two big men in gambesons loiter behind Benn's wife with swords belted at their waists. A linkboy stands further back, wrapped in a cloak and holding his torch close to his face for warmth.

One of the armed men offers Benn an apologetic look, but the other suppresses a smile with evident difficulty.

Charlotte stamps at the edge of the doorway, knocking clumps of slush and frozen mud from her shoes.

She sniffs Benn’s breath, dainty nostrils crinkling.
“I don’t know how she manages it, but Lorna keeps her man at home of nights.”

Her eyes level on him, black, cold, menacing. The hard look softens a little as a smile plays across her red lips.
“You’ve forgotten the date, haven’t you?”

[Adam]

"Ah, um," he says, an entirely different sort of panic setting in, "Apologies, darling. Mattheo's had a robbery, I was helping him investigate."