Lammy's anxiousness melted a bit as the group approached the city's walls, what once seemed imposing and fearsome looked quite pitiful up close. The soldiers watching the wall were nothing more than bewildered children, surprised to see equally confused individuals approach their moat. Their weapons were old, and damaged, and looked like they could fall apart at any second. "Someone should look into ironwood for this army..." Lammy pondered as he watched one of the kids summon for their superior. And then he had to look on as their commander approached them. The druid had to admit, the man moved kinda fast for someone his age.

"You must've lost your way, no one comes to Falstaff." The Sergeant mentioned. Given the pitiful state of affairs the city seemed to be in, Lammy could understand why. "This was the nearest thing resembling civilization, so we didn't have much of a choice-" Sheeva flapped down in this moment, landing at her usual perch. "Chiiiweirk chiweirk! (Y'know, I don't know why I was so scared of these soldiers. Ha, These kids couldn't hurt me even with good weapons!)" The red-tailed hawk would've scoffed if she could've.

"So...Falstaff? Is that like, the name of the town...or the whole country?" Lammy questioned with hesitation. "I'm also wondering if the fog teleportation is a typical thing for you guys, or if the lot of us were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Just as he mentioned the foggy phenomena, another individual entered the scene, her bow at the ready.

"Where is this?" She interrupted. Sheeva's head cocked towards the girl, curious at the mystery archer's urgent demeanor. "Falstaff, apparently." Lammy mumbled back quickly, before turning his attention back to the elderly Sergeant.

After inviting the wildling boy up atop her wagon Syeira encouraged the young man to fetch another throw blanket and then turned her attention to following the others. Rather, her horse seemed quite content to follow the others. It was a follower by instinct. He was a reliable horse with a good deal of endurance but lacked the spirit to be of use to a warrior's steed.

Even as they approached Syeira was thinking, drawing conclusions, tossing them aside and then formulating new theories as more information presented itself. Obviously there had been a great battle here but none remained to deal with the aftermath. Further, the city was guarded by the old instead of more youthful soldiers while children, who should be working, were running about. This led Syeira to believe that those of middle age, had either gone off to war or had otherwise gone missing. Otherwise their parents would likely be employing them in other endeavours. Her final hypothesis was that the middle aged men had all gone off to war.

Then her small wildling companion began to blurt out questions in a most unsubtle manner before a woman with a nocked arrow presented herself. A knocked arrow was rather rude but she rather imagined her new companions, being so just and chivalrous, would handle the situation without her intervention. Still, in the case of things didn't go well she readied a few spells, bringing them to the tip of her tongue.

"Fog?" The sergeant said. He was already a pale, half-dead looking kind of guy, but hearing that made him go a little paler and a little more dead looking. "Reckon you'd best step inside. We ain't had Mist-taken since, my Gran were a lass." He pointed at the boys. "Let 'em through, lads. If'n the Lord Above wants them here ain't much the likes of us can do to stop them."

Lily didn't feel much like contesting that point - they had equal numbers and quite frankly she had a feeling she could take on all of them single-handedly without a fight. These were stableboys, not soldiers.

The Sergeant led them inside as the Boy-Soldiers stepped aside, watching them past before going back to generally lying about, chattering amongst themselves. The Sergeant shook his head. "It weren't so long ago that we had men of iron guarding those gates, and boys like that would've been doing what boys that age should be, properly apprenticed or chasing gals, or whatever you young folk do." He glanced at the younger members of the group. "Beggin' your pardon, of course."

"Falstaff's the city. County of Fairhaven. Course, ain't so fair these days...ain't much of a haven, neither."

Sana grumbled to herself, that really didn't tell her anything but inside was better than outside as far as she was concerned at this point. She slowly stepped into the building and glanced around, her bow and nocked arrow still held low. She had made the mistake of grouping up with people in the middle of no where before and it biting her in the backend. She was not about to make that mistake again. She didn't care if they were good people or not, any one of them could be driven to do things they normally wouldn't have under the right circumstances. She had and it had lended to her having a very distasteful nickname among the lat group she had been traveling with.

Leaning back against a wall she blew a heavy huff and sent her bangs flying out of her face as she listened to those speaking around her. She wasn't going to play the leader or speaker this time, she had no desire to get to know these people. She just wanted to get out of here are quickly as possible. She hadn't even introduced herself and figured there was no reason to at this point.

"May I ask what happened here? I saw the signs of some sort of battle, but I'd like to know more if you can help with that." Eranah said as she walked in, struggling to keep herself from going from person to person. The archer was clearly in a bad place mentally, though from what exactly she had no idea. The pain of others less adept in concealing it crying out to her and drowning out most else. She stood firm however, there would be plenty of time for her to work with the others later. For now, getting a grasp of at least the basic situation was more pressing.

The city of Falstaff in the county of Fairhaven. That implied a greater nation. She was certainly nowhere near the Heartlands that much was certain. She had assumed she'd stumbled across a faerie road or somehow had been transported up towards the great white north like Icewind Dale. A county didn't sound like it belonged in the great northern wildlands. She would consult her maps but those were inside her vardo. Maps were too valuable to leave about.

Gently snapping the reins, Syeira got her horse moving, following the old soldier and the rest of her newly found fellowship into the city of Falstaff. The iron banded wheels rattled and the springs squeaked and protested as the wagon bounced in and out of frozen ruts of mud.

She also didn't like the term "Mist-Taken". That did not bode well. She wanted to ask what that meant but others had already asked enough of the old man for the moment. They didn't wish to alienate or frustrate the man after he'd been so good as to let them into the city.

"Course, ain't so fair these days...ain't much of a haven, neither." As the Sergeant led the group into the city, Sheeva was being pretty catty for a bird. "SQUAWWWW! (No kidding, gramps. This place is a dump.)" She mentioned casually. Lammy sighed at the situation, and her comment. He scanned the solemn, desolate landscape, devoid of people or general upkeep.

"Wait a second, 'Mist-taken'?" The query came completely out of left field, blurted out by the dingy druid himself. "So this has happened before? We're not the first?" He kinda felt like he just adding to the list of questions that would no doubt stack up on the Sergeant. "What happened to the last ones?" He asked. Even if the last incursion happened decades ago, he figured whatever happened was still pretty significant, seeing as there were stories told about it.

"War." The Sergeant said. "Finally ended round three years back, reckon all the men on both sides were dead enough that they couldn't fight anymore. Just one day they stopped throwing stones and walked away, back to where they come from." The Sergeant led them through the crumbling city - it seemed a ghost town, most of the buildings boarded shut and hardly a soul to be seen. "As for why we had the war, you'd best be askin' the Lord, and he's not one to take guests."

"As fer Mist-taken - har, it's like a pun - you'd best be asking Crissie Hopestone, she's...in charge around here, more or less." He pointed ahead at a sign on one of the few buildings still in good shape. "That's her place, the Scarlet Jester's. Was a lot more lively, once."

Sana followed the group in silence, her arrow eventually being let loose from the string and it dropping back into its quiver. The bow in turn being slung along her back, letting it rest in its place once again. Her face was emotionless as it always had been and what ever thoughts people had of her were drawn from an over bearing arrogance that they thought they could read someone just by their looks. A fatal trait she had seen far to many adventurers acquire over the years.

"Okay, I guess I'll be the one to ask the important question," she quipped in finally. "How do we get the hell out of here?" she asked at the one informing people about the place they were stuck in. Granted she felt she probably wasn't going to get the answer she hoped for. Something along the lines of second star to the right and straight on until morning.

"I don't think he'd know the answer to that..." Lammy trailed off unsurely, wondering if the sour archer was really paying attention. He clearly made mention of someone who could provide better insight to the body snatching weather anomaly. "Okay...Crissie Hopestone..." The druid meandered verbally, staring down the establishment this experienced "Mist-taken" owned. "Well, guess she's our only lead so far. Might as well check this place out, see what info she's got." He gave the Sergeant a thankful shoulder pat. "Thanks for all your help, elder." The druid replied with gratefulness.

"'fraid the boy's right, lass. I ain't even rightly sure where you are, much less how to get you back there."

The inside of the Scarlet Jester was a depressing sight - it was in theory a tavern, immaculately kept, not a cobweb or speck of dust to be seen. Small, round tables dotted the floor, with chairs settled atop them. Seated at one of them was a woman, with heavily lined pale skin and brown hair that was thick with gray. She looked up at the door as they entered, her eyes despondent and tired. Getting a look at them, she seemed to brighten a bit.

"Welcome to the Scarlet Jester." She got to her feet with a muttered curse as her knees and back audibly popped. "It isn't often we get travelers around here, how can I help you?"

Looking around the Jester, it looked to have been a happening place once - the bar was large and still fairly well stocked, and the walls were dotted with the heads of great beasts and monsters. Behind the bar, over where the tender would stand, was an ornate sword, lightly curved with flowing letters inscribed on the blade. The hilt was bound in blue fabric, and a tassel of the same color hung from the pommel.

"And you'd be travelers who'd make a stir even if we got a hundred a day." She said as she looked them over.

"And you must be Miss Hopestone. We were hoping you might be able to tell us about why or how exactly we ended up here. I wouldn't assume you know how to get us back home, but any information would be helpful." Eranah asked as she watched the woman, a look of minor concern crossing her features as the woman cursed, hearing the joints pop. She clearly must have been in some level of pain. She couldn't help herself. Reaching out and laying a hand on the woman's shoulder. In the back of her mind she figured there was not time like the present to see if her powers still worked, but it was only a very small thought.

Focusing a bit she quickly worked to ease the pain and hopefully even help her ease of movement in a longer term. It wouldn't be permanent, there was nothing to stop old age from taking its course in the end. However, if she could even give the woman an hour or two of being able to move around somewhat easier it would be worth it. As soon as she was done the hand left the woman's shoulder as her expression remained concerned, but less so than before.

She groaned as Eranah's magic flowed into her, swollen knuckles popping loudly before subsiding. She straightened up a bit with more loud, uncomfortable-sounding pops that made Lily wince, a brightness coming into the woman's features.

"Keldanor, I'd forgotten what a good bit of healing feels like. You're an angel, lass." She looked Eranah up and down. "I meant that in a figurative sense, but looking at you I think it might be true literally." She shook her head, a smile crossing her face. "And aye, I'd be Crissie Hopestone. So. You're Mist-Taken."

Miss Hopestone leaned on the bar. "Time was I was a young traveler like yourselves, blazing paths through the dark places of my own world. I imagine my story's not so different from your own - you're not the first Mist-Taken I've met. I was in a huge cave, scouting ahead of my companions when thick white clouds poured through gaps in the floor and walls and surrounded me, and when they faded I was in this old ruined chapel, a long ways from here in Barovia. That was an ugly night."

"Which brings me to my first piece of advice: When night falls in this land do -not- be traveling. Find a safe place and lay defenses before the last rays of day fade." Hopestone stared each of them in the eye. "Now...as for how or why you came to be here...I'm afraid I don't know. The Mists are part of it, I'm sure. They can be seen often enough in this realm, and I attempted to escape twice by deliberately charging into them. Both times they took me, but they only placed me somewhere else in this world." She glanced around and leaned forward closer. "They say that the vagrant people called the Vistani know the paths in the Mists. I don't know where you can find them, it's said they're cursed to wander forevermore for their sins." Her eyes narrowed. "The Vistani are not to be trusted, though. Even the best of them will steal your cloak as soon as look at you, and for many that is the least of their crimes. One of their caravans came through Fairhaven four winters past, and when they departed three village girls had vanished. Most people around here forgot when the war came."

She cleared her throat, then picked up a bottle of amber liquid and poured herself a glass. "What can I get you? I owe you a drink for listening to my babble, and especially for the healing."

Lammy let himself in, helping himself to one of the seats as the hostess informed the crew on the situation. Sounded like she didn't know of a way to get out of this dimension either. Not without risking a life, at least. Naturally, this upset the druid, making him sigh as he began to slump into his chair. His expression stayed neutral, but the somber thoughts were there. "Now I actually regret not going back home with Amaya last week." He thought. Alongside that, there only seemed to be added stakes to the already bleak situation. "Can't go out after dark. Don't trust the people that could get us home." Just to get a good gauge on time, Lammy meandered over to the door, just to take a look outside. "Yup. S'grey and winter-y out. Still kinda light out, though." He mumbled. It looked like evening would be upon the land before they knew it. He gave thought to searching for the Vistani right now, while they had the chance. The thought of never returning to his family made him really anxious.

As he returned to the group, the hostess Hopestone offered Eranah a drink. Made the druid realize he hadn't had a drink since he shared one with his father on his 21st birthday. Gave him brief thought towards the passage of time. "Geez, has it really been that long already?" He sat back down. "Can I get a drink too? Something to get my mind off of all this. Something not too magic-y either." Lammy asked with another tired sigh.

"I'd offer you some Aldarian white if I could." She poured each of them a small glass of amber colored liquid.

Lily sniffed it, then took a sip, almost immediately rocking back on her heels, her eyes watering. It had a taste like lamp oil - she'd tasted it once, long story - that someone had mixed some cinnamon into, and then somehow fermented. It was an experience she wasn't likely to forget any time soon. "What the hell -is- that?" She said, her voice hoarse.

"I have no idea what they call it. I like to call it a Vagrant Resurrection." Hopestone said with a grin. "A mouthful of it can just about raise a man from the dead."

"I can believe that." Lily rasped out, setting the glass back down on the bar. "Nine Hells."

Lammy gave his thanks as a full glass of libation slid towards him. Ready to down it all in one miserable gulp, he paused, looking on as Lily took her sip first. He cracked a bit of a grin as she voiced her opinion on just how strong the stuff was. It was her voice that made him realize that the predicament he was in could've been a lot worse. He could've been stuck here without any help and with no familiar faces. Instead, he was sharing drinks with some of his greatest friends and his strongest companion. What optimism that had withered away in his moment of despair, had began to restore itself just a bit.

He looked into the amber liquid, sloshing it around in its little glass. "Vagrant Resurrection, eh?" He stared it down another second, then threw his head back and forced it down. It was a hopeful gulp, rather than a miserable one. "I...immediately regret doing that!" He struggled to reply as he coughed. Felt as if his body was on fire. And as he lifted his head towards the ceiling, and burped up a small ball of flame, the expression seemed to be quite literal. "Huh. That...usually doesn't happen." Usually when he was breathing fire, it was on purpose...and usually coming out of his hands. Might've been a side effect gained from the practice he undertook with his sister.

He slid the glass back to their hostess. "Please ma'am, might I have another? Preferably with a chaser?" He asked.

Eranah hadn't wanted to be rude when she received the shot.

"Thank you, and it is nothing. I am a cleric after all." With that she threw the shot back...and immediately it threatened to come right back up. Holding it down with a series of coughs such that she actually hunched forward she tried to keep the burning in her throat and gut down. She couldn't even speak for a good while as it merely burned and her body wanted nothing more than to get rid of every trace of it.

"Now I know suffering." She said quietly once she caught her breath, straightening up again with her eyes growing wider as Lammy asked for a second shot. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she knew that it would be rude to not follow his example.

"One for myself as well please."

"Your funeral, son." Hopestone said as she poured Lammy a second one, chuckling at their reactions. "Liquor 'round these parts isn't what I'd call smooth sophistication." She withdrew two larger pewter cupss and filled them with dark beer from a keg behind the bar, setting them in front of Lammy and Eranah.

"Now, what else can I tell you?"

"What -is- this place?" Lily said.

"I don't rightly know." Hopestone hunched forward, leaning her elbows on the bar. "Local legends say people have been taken by the Mists for a long time and ended up here, and no one ever finds a way out again. I reckon that if you trace it far enough back at the root of every family tree here is someone who got taken from a world like yours or mine. I know that there's something wrong about this place, a Priest of Pelor I befriended years back told me that as soon as he came here he felt wrong, like the sun's rays didn't feel the same. Say it's like there's something between us and the Gods here."

Lily went visibly paler, her lips pressed tightly together.

Hopestone's eyes flicked to the windows. "Sun's about down. You folk need a place to hang your head for the night? The Scarlet Jester's open, although the rooms might be a shade on the dusty side. I haven't had guests in far too long."

After a few moments Lily spoke. "That sounds like a good idea to me." She said, her color returning.

Contained in a much taller cup than the shot glass containing liquid flame, Lammy decided to take up the beer first before tackling that liquor again. A bit more refreshing than the devilwater, he didn't hesitate to take a few generous gulps of the stuff. He did slow however, as he watched Lily show a bit of fear. It was clear he wasn't as connected to the gods as she was (he was a casual worshipper, at best), but he could imagine how such news could impact an individual who relied on such an otherworldly entity as their main source of power. As Crissie offered the group lodging at the Jester, and Lily spoke up, he offered comfort the best way he currently could. "You gonna be okay?" He was quiet as he asked, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder.

If Lammy were anyone else - with the possible exception of Eranah - her response would have been to flash a bright smile and a reassuring nod. She was a Paladin, it was her duty to be resolute and unshaken no matter how bad things got. To be brave even when no one else was. Paladins were as much about inspiring people to be better as they were about directly fighting the darkness that threatened the world.

But she had been to Hell and back with Lammy, very nearly literally. She lowered her voice, not wanting to loudly declare her fear to the world in general. "I don't know, Lammy." She said. "Torm has been the foundation on which I built my life. When all's quiet I could feel his hand upon me, guiding me to the right path." She tugged off her gauntlet, then rested her hand on his, wanting to feel the touch directly rather than through the shell of steel around her. "At least..." She trailed off, her cheeks blushing red, then continued a moment later. "I'm glad you're here. I'd hate to face this alone."