[IC] Ravenloft. Revisited.

[Gordian Nought]

---

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin

---

Drat and blast, wolves! They were utterly surrounded, and the things moved fast too. Before Talran could so much as unsheathe his weapon, they'd pulled in to engage the whole group - other than the puppet-bearing ally, whose steed dashed forth beyond the wolf blocking their path, though it seemed he'd not left without somehow wounding one of the biggest wolves in the pack. Magic, of a sort? It'd make sense, knowing what Talran did of the man's mindset.

Not that it prevented the wolf or its ally from making its attack against Markus and his steed, discorporating the creature back to maggots and leaving Markus stunned and ravaged on the ground, with clear, serious wounds. Even as he worried for Markus, a mere glance around himself proved that they were otherwise in decent standing - of the other wolves, one had failed to bite into the more aggressive of the troupe, whilst the other two had fallen from the cliffs, one knocking itself unconscious entirely in the process. What courteous fate, indeed.

With nary a question in his mind, Talran wheeled his steed about and sallied forth to Markus' aid despite his orders otherwise, raising his shield as he did so and calling forth a divine Sanctuary upon Markus, to shield him from further harm by the beasts. With the man so protected, Talran chose a somewhat counter-intuitive option: steering to Markus' left, rather than the more wolf-laden right, gave him leave to strike at the wolf who had so adriotly evaded Markus' initial blow, an option he took even as his steed remained ready to shy away should the beast make an attack in its direction, whilst in turn leaving Talran ready to defend Markus if an attack made its way through the Sanctuary's bounds to strike him.

---

@Gordian Nought Egil

---

The integrated assembly of howls manufactured a muffed strike against the dire wolf afore him. The revolving fighter smirked, nonetheless savoring the wasted exploit as his boots dug deeply into the grassy gathering, realizing that the roles of predator and prey were still being arbitrated. Egil subpoenaed a jury of recoil, continuing his swing to glance upon the warlock and trickster. Quickly, the fetor of mustered fur plumed again in his sight, enduring now the verdict of a lupine gavel, growling and sneering at the impending decrees from the mob amassed behind the champion.

---

Mechanics

Talran moves to Markus' aid, riding twenty feet to the immediate left of Markus on the map, ending movement below Dire Wolf 1 whilst avoiding Dire Wolf 2's AoO range, with the mount's Dodge action used to impose disadvantage on attacks against it and make Dexterity saving throws with advantage. As he moves, Talran casts Sanctuary on Markus as a bonus action, requiring a Wisdom saving throw of 13 to make an attack against Markus for the next minute, or until Markus himself makes an attack or casts a spell. Talran also makes a melee attack against Dire Wolf 1, the attack roll coming up as 11, and dealing 8 damage if he hits. Finally, with a reaction free, Talran will use his Fighting Style: Protection ability to impose disadvantage on the first attack against Markus that breaks through the Sanctuary's protection.

Egil remains stationary and misses.

Round 1 - Talran and Egil

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Lady Selune Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious

---

Wolves. Wonderful. Howling masses of fangs and fur. She watched as her companions spurred on their steeds and did the same thing, trying to ignore the peril the others were in. Still, the creatures needed to be dealt with. Talran and Markus were engaging two of the beasts, with a third looking to join in on the fray. That would be problematic. Her steed ran next to the armored non-human, and as she passed she made a split second decision. Magic, not a blade.

Her coattails swept by, and she made a chopping motion with her hand. A burst of blueish-purple light shot out from her hands, directed towards the creature that had already been hit and that seemed the greatest threat. Unlike Talran, she continued to ride by- if another pass was desperately needed, she could turn the horse around without issue.

Mechanics

Mhyrienne moves thirty feet directly in front of her and casts eldritch blast at the wolf in front of both Talran and Markus as she rides by, potentially provoking an AoO. Thanks to agonising blast, she receives a +3 to her damage roll on the wolf should her attack of 10 hit, and it would deal 6 damage.

Round 1 - Mhyrienne
Raven's Eye View

[Gordian Nought]

---

@JohnSolaris Zaerith Dustborn

---

Paranoia. It has sometimes served Zaerith well, making him cautious against subtler dangers that may have otherwise slipped past his notice. At other times, it may turn out to be his unmaking.

Like when he is lost in thought and allows a pack of dire wolves to have the jump on him.

Kehehehe, how unlike you! The voice in his head is shrill and grating, most likely on purpose. Are you not supposed to be the fast one?

Again, Zaerith pointedly ignores the voice, now especially more than ever for his survival may depend on it. His eyes quickly survey the wolves, each at least the size of a horse, already growling and snapping and biting at the rest of his group. Fortunately, none are targeting him. And even more fortunately, his memory is providing to be reliable again, as he recalls a surprisingly large amount of information regarding these large furred beasts from the deep, fragmented recesses of his mind.

His companions are fighting back, each unveiling their own powers that stop them from becoming wolf feed at least for the moment. But Zaerith has no time to gawk at his allies’ displays. No, his attention is entirely focused on the wolves. “The one with red eyes,” he growls, hopefully loudly enough for the rest of the party to hear. “Stronger than the rest.” Exactly how, he is not sure. Maybe it is the leader of the pack, or a mutant tainted by some foul magic. It may be actually a wolf-shaped construct piloted by a bee, for all he knows. But he sees the way it moves; this one cannot be underestimated.

One thing is for certain. He doubts he can afford to hold back, not against this many beasts of prey.

With a flick of his thoughts, Zaerith shifts his stance and the flow of arcane energies within him to initiate the art known as Bladesong. Ah, the once-beautiful faces of the Tel’Quessir contorted in outrage as he used their own art against them, perverting it into something resembling the original only on the flimsiest of technicalities, at a time when he was much stronger and deadlier… But this will do for now. The air around him hums with not music but deafening silence as darkness shrouds him, transforming his figure into a shadowy blur perfectly suited for the sneaking, underhanded blows that he employs with impunity to get the job done. The darkness of this Silent Deathsong, and the layer of invisible force that is his Mage Armor still active underneath… These should prove adequate in deflecting the wolves’ blows.

His right hand unsheathes the rapier, while his left tightens around the rein of his… “horse”. If the thing’s nature is as he suspects, then it ought to have no trouble understanding his intent. It gallops forward, favoring careful movement over raw speed, wary of any openings the wolves may exploit to attack as he moves past their reach. Then, with practiced ease, Zaerith focuses arcane energies into the rapier in his hand, the blade beginning to vibrate as it is charged with thunderous power. His eyes sweep over the battlefield. The wolf to the right of the party guide Markus, injured and distracted by the proximity of its enemy. An opportunity. As he approaches the wolf, his rapier lashes out, aiming at any possible weak point he can see.

At the same time, Zaerith prepares to have his mount run to the left, out of the wolves’ immediate reach and behind the pale man in chain mail. Hopefully the man will make as good a meat shield as he seems.

Mechanics

Zaerith spends his bonus action to activate Bladesong. His buggy horse takes the Disengage action, making it and Zaerith unaffected by attacks of opportunity this turn. The horse moves forward 3 grids (15 feet). Because Markus is adjacent to dire wolf 2, Zaerith is able to sneak attack it. Zaerith makes a sneak attack with his rapier and Booming Blade against dire wolf 2, rolling a 10 on his attack roll. If it is to hit, it will deal 13 piercing damage, and dire wolf 2 will take 5 thunder damage if it voluntarily moves before the start of Zaerith's next turn. Regardless of whether he lands the attack, Zaerith then commands his horse to move left 3 grids (15 feet), ending directly behind Talran, not triggering attacks of opportunity because of the horse's Disengage.

End of Round 1 - Zaerith

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Hekazu The Unnamable

---

The situation had taken a turn for the worse, it was clear and apparent. The rush for the gates had not been the most successful endeavor, with only him and his mount having made it. There was nothing to be gained if they all perished at a time like this, this mysterious Lady Eva very likely staying a mystery forever in that all too likely outcome. No, there was something that needed to be done here, and that something was what had the man turn his pile of insects around and approach.

The last thing the pair of gleaming purple eyes laid themselves on before closing for a brief moment was the figure of the red eyed wolf, the one that had already faced the brunt superior force of the puppeteer's conscious. And now within the addled mind of the man, a crackling whip of doubt rose, lashing at the feeble mind of the rabid beast, the striking figure wrapping around the other mind that appeared but a peanut to the pulsing might that George's carrier held within.

The eyes shot open again, and the vision seen became reality, the psychic energy crashing against the leader wolf. It would learn to doubt, to fear. To learn secrets in emotions it may have never felt before. In a way, the superior mind envied its simplicity. But living like it would be no life at all.

Mechanics

The Unnamable moves fifteen feet diagonally towards the center of the road and then employs the power of the Ego Whip, spending three Psi Points on the Psychic Assault discipline. Dire Wolf 1 must make an INT saving throw against the DC of 13, or take 9 psychic damage and be rendered incapable of taking any action other than Dodge, Disengage or Hide on its next turn. On a successful save, the damage is halved.

Round 2 - The Unnamable

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Gordian Nought Markus

---

The hunger did not vacate the scarlet eyed dog’s salivating solace, but was mystically steered away from his intended game, out of fear, ironically venturing now into the propinquity of the man and the sleeping toy. Its eyelids curtained voids of darkness, with carefully crafted lashes brooding dusk, fluttering in all crazed directions. The figurine sat ready and poised in the puppeteer’s hands, waiting as a lion tamer, illumined with the odium of dreamy authority.

Markus sensed the immense mental prowess ahead of him, even after embracing the fortified barriers of Talran’s sanctuary. Recollection and reality appeared to harmonize and oscillate simultaneously as he pooled over George, for a fraction of a wept thought.

Lady Eva had selected another formidable collection.

Perhaps, they would have a chance. Yet, too many unknowns remained, unraveling the poisoned fruits of the already ignored consequences of adventurers prior would have to be calculated.

Barks cradled the Vistani back into the thicket of battle as a duo of lupine jaws widened, attempting to sink carnivorous canines into his sinew. Both, however, were redirected again by the altruistic paladin. The boisterous mastication from one of the wolves missed the Jester’s servant, processing a meatless machination, whilst Galelove unfortunately suffered his own flesh wound, fading to the left, slightly as the dire beast seemed to digest his mount’s exsanguinating soul.

One bite at a time.

With two swift flicks of a wrist, the nefarious conscious of Markus’ possessed blade belted out once again thunder and lightning from its edge, singing the ambiance with a buzz worthy of an unholy hive of hornets upon the flanking pair of harrowing hounds.

The scarred ranger then about faced and lept unto the steed of Zaerith, suggesting all to keep a tight formation as he glanced again at Egil dodging more nips.

“Get close to the doll.”

Mechanics

Dire Wolf 1 will Disengage and move up 50 feet towards the Unnamable. Dire Wolf 3 will make a Wisdom Saving throw and fail (11 vs 13) due to Sanctuary and attempt to attack Zaerith but miss. Dire Wolf 4 also attacks and misses Egil. Dire Wolf 5 fails its first Death Save. Dire Wolf 2 gains Advantage from Pack Tactics and attacks Talran for 7 damage. Talran must make a Strength Saving Throw or be knocked Prone from his steed.

Markus strikes Dire Wolf 3 first for 5 damage then Dire Wolf 2 for 8 damage. He then ends his turn by grappling Zaerith’s mount and climbs on triggering an attack of opportunity with Advantage from Dire Wolf 2, but fails against Sanctuary once again. It chooses not to direct its attack to Talran.

Round 2 - Dire Wolves and Markus

[Gordian Nought]

---

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin

---

Heavens, but these were dangerous beasts. Even as his Sanctuary rescued Markus from doom time and again, the wolves recalculated their attack plans - one targeted the hooded chap who, somehow, Talran was sure was associated with somebody he knew from his past, though awareness proper eluded him still. The other struck Talran himself - and though it failed to dislodge him, the crushing force of its teeth through his mail bruised and even sliced partway into his flesh, a blow that made Talran wince just a little. Suffice to say, he was not unused to such wounds, and sallied on, considering his options. Magic was a precious resource, he knew, and yet his allies seemed to be having some awful trouble when it came to striking their foes. He felt they might be whittled down before the wolves were, even with one unconscious to the side...

It mattered not. One unfortunate encounter after days of travel did not a reoccurring trend make. Thus, he took some time to cast a second spell, this one a blessing for his companions - the elven lady, the hooded stranger, and their guide Markus, even if it seemed he needed not Talran's assistance when it came to returning damage to their aggressors. Alas, the puppeteer remained out of Talran's reach after his rapid charge, and though the apparent leader of the pack quickly disengaged and followed after him, it would like as not be the case that Talran would need to follow in his turn shortly, if only to ensure his ally remained healthy.

---

@Gordian Nought Egil

---

A lingering madness could be gleaned from the dancing pupils of Egil, pinpoint and fretful. The fighter recognized the swarm of hounds, dividing and conquering their faction, reminded by the hail of Markus, their guide, plunging deeper into Barovia. He matched a momentary gaze with the Vistani, almost with painted beady eyes, decomposing slowly as he pirouetted onto the writhing steed of Zaerith.

He should only follow suit.

His rotting boots avalanched away from the beast, careful not to exchange blows with the mottled mut over the barren soil. In one fell swoop, he resurrected himself as a rider upon the absent saddle, where vines of worms quickly materialized as reigns and stirrups once again as the pair abandoned the marred wolf, chasing after Mhyrienne and the others.

Mechanics

Talran uses his action to cast Bless upon Mhyrienne, Zaerith, and Markus - for the next minute (ten rounds) or until Talran fails a concentration check, they may roll an additional 1d4 and add it to their attack rolls. Markus' Sanctuary vanishes with his attack. Until his next round, Talran's reaction will be primed to force disadvantage on an attack roll against either Zaerith or Markus, again using his fighting style to achieve this. His mount's action will be Dodge again, imposing disadvantage on attack rolls against it and offering advantage on Dexterity saves to avoid attacks.

Egil mounts his wormy steed. Both Disengage and ride near Mhyrienne, flanking Dire Wolf 2.

Round 2 - Talran and Egil

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Lady Selune Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious

---

With so many attacking the wolf it seemed folly to end up continuing to attack them. Instead, she would focus her effort on the wolf less injured. It seemed she did indeed need to whirl her mount around, directing it with her knees as she did so. Her hand deftly moved, and her eyes held the faint flicker of magic, the wolf unaware of the curse placed upon it.

Then, she struck again. Her fingers pressed together, another bolt of force lancing out towards her foe. She was going to kill this creature.

Mechanics

Mhyrienne wheels her steed around and ends up two tiles right of Markus, then uses Hexblade's Curse on Dire Wolf 3 as a bonus action before hitting it with another eldritch blast. Attack roll is 24, damage roll is 7.

Round 2 - Mhyrienne

[Gordian Nought]

---

@JohnSolaris Zaerith Dustborn

---

Zaerith feels a wave of magic wash over him, coinciding with the armored pale man’s gestures. He is reasonably sure that it is divine in nature, and beneficial to him, but this is no time to ponder the spell’s exact properties in the heat of battle. The group’s guide, having lost his own horse, mounts upon Zaerith’s, which the hooded man silently allows; this is also no time to be picky about close proximity.

One of the wolves appears heavily wounded, likely close to death, in addition to being flanked by the fighter of Zaerith's group. Time to neutralize it as a threat.

Intermittent Mechanics

Zaerith moves diagonally up and right; he and Egil now flank dire wolf 2. He makes a sneak attack using Booming Blade against dire wolf 2, which results in a critical hit, dealing 22 piercing damage. Dire wolf 2 will take 4 thunder damage if it voluntarily moves before the end of Zaerith's next turn.

“Get close to the doll,” Markus says, from his seat behind Zaerith. Perhaps he’s planning something? Regardless, the red-eyed wolf is over there, far away from the rest. It will likely be easier to deal with like this.

More Mechanics

Zaerith makes another move diagonally up and right, costing 2 grids of movement this time. His steed takes the Disengage action to avoid attacks of opportunity, before using what remains of its movement to move up 7 grids.

---

@Zverda Anala Attor

---

So much noise, how was a lady supposed to enjoy a ride through the land with so much racket and shouting? Not very well, that’s for sure. Letting out a sigh, a woman in rather fine clothing steered her Painted Clydesdale towards a cliff not too far away before coming up about forty feet back and thirty feet forward from the sound of fighting. Tilting her head to the side, she noticed that, while the fight did not seem to be going too poorly for the group, but it did not seem to be going to well in their favor either. She wanted her silence back, that was for sure, and while one of the four dire beasts were dead, there were still three too many still alive. “Well Rogath, time for a little magic on horseback again,” she muttered as she patted her large horse's neck, “Don’t worry boy, we will stay up here until the fight itself is over. I can still fling a few spells their way.”

The horse simply nickered in response, causing the woman to roll her eyes as if she knew what he was saying, “Of course I’m not doing this for them, I just want some silence brought back to what was once a peaceful ride. It’s not my fault they stumbled upon a pack of hungry wolves, now is it?” Letting out a sigh, she shook out her arms and pushed up her sleeves, “Time for a little Chaos.”

With a flourish of hands and a murmur of words in a rough tongue, the woman thrust her arms forward and out to the side. A strong force erupted forward, one beam resembling a green and smokey streak of strange lighting thrusting forward and striking the Third Dire wolf, temporarily enveloping it in a cloud of green smoke. The second beam seemed to be nothing but a ripple in the air streaking towards the fourth Dire Wolf, slamming into the creature and causing it to shake its head and let out a small wine. That did not seem to be all that was happening happening however. As the two wolves were hit, the fourth wolf let out a louder whine of pain as an invisible force seemed to slam into it for a second time, severely injuring it if not managing to kill it outright by pure luck.

As the final beast was hit, the greenish smoke trail that lead back to the one who casted the spell seemed to dissipate on the gentle breeze leaving no trace behind of what had happened. Of course, if one looked up they would be able to see a figure atop a surprisingly large horse looking and old shriveled man standing beside it offering the figure what appeared to be a tea cup as they stared down at the chaos below. While it may have hit the wolves, who was really able to say if they were friend or foe?

Surprise

After using 1 Sorcerer Point, the figure uses Twin Spell on 1st lvl spell Chaos Bolt. DW3 takes a total of 18 Poison Damage, DW4 takes a total of 9 Force Damage and takes an additional 15 Psychic Damage for a total of 24 damage. Due to rolling 2 6’s on the Poison Chaos Bolt, it bounced off DW3 and successfully hit DW4 with a different damage type. ATK rolls were 23 and 20 respectively.

Round 2 - Zaerith and Anala

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Hekazu The Unnamable

---

One of the wolves rushed the man that had invoked feelings so unfamiliar to the predator within the confines of its head, though it did not deem its rush important enough to risk taking a blade or two in its side. Natural instincts had to guide it well, no two ways about it. But what its carefulness meant for it was another problem on its own: It could not reach the aggressor whom it sought. And there was a single fatal flaw in that... what if the creature suddenly changed its mind on approaching?

But before the slowing down of the red eyed beast, the attention of the soul near the gates was brought to the arrival of yet another person, them joining the fight with a spell whose kind had not been witnessed by the mind behind the purple eyes. Whatever it was, the effects were abundantly clear, the wolves the energy struck being harmed with a force most erratic in its behavior. Something to commit to memory.

But that was not something one could allow themselves to get lost in, especially not so if a large slavering beast was on their way to rend their flesh! Pulling the images from the invoker's experience, horror and disgust wracked the subconscious of the approaching animal. It was time it ceased, heeled, and went on its way.

Mechanics

The mount is ordered to Dodge, no movement is taken. For his own action, The Unnamable invokes the power of Eye of Horror, spending two Psi on the Crown of Disgust discipline. Dire Wolf 1 must make a Charisma saving throw against his DC of 13 or take 7 psychic damage and be rendered incapable of moving closer to the Unnamable until the end of its next turn. On a successful save, the damage is halved.

---

@Gordian Nought Markus

---

The alpha groaned in efforts to ward off the cranial entry of the majestic figurine and its subservient ventriloquist into its guarded cerebral sepulcher. With a twinge and a swing, the hound whipped around once more, now primed upon the scent, again, of the Vistani. For one with such deadly eagerness to vantage this particular man’s innards, the crazed bite landed erroneously right, endorsing a hamartia of sorts.

It recompensed with a melodic howl, unusually engorged with a melding of hatred, hunger and harmony. For not swallowing its prey.

Markus scoffed upon the ever palpable pooch, mocking it with his balding scalp as he tilted downward and dedicated a farewell toast but with an electric flourish. The quilted shriek of the crimson eyed fiend evolved hurriedly into a shriller wail, lavished with banshee undertones. The gypsy nose jutted out above a curvy smirk, etching like a stovepipe bent, crooked, funneling smoky wisps of air, to and fro, only for the last swipe to miscue.

However, he too, like George, was ignoring the titanic iceberg beneath the unforgiving ocean.

Without missing an interrupted desecration, the other singed wolves, yelping from fiery meteors belting from the whistling forest, began to swarm the warlock, whose earlier evident magic scorched one of their brethren. The mongrels’ gaped maws rapidly widened into huge bottomless catacombs hoping to bury pulp between their whetted gravestones of teeth. One of the duo unfortunately and quickly spalted Mhyrienne with a rending of her flesh, conjuring a solicited gash upon the elf.

More Mechanics

Dire Wolf 1 retreats and attacks/misses Markus. Dire Wolf 3 will attack/miss Mhyrienne. Dire Wolf 4 attacks with Advantage against Mhyrienne and deals 7 damage. Dire Wolves 5 and 2 fail their Death Saves. Markus strikes twice against the Dire Wolf 1 and injuring it only once/dealing 8 damage.

Round 3 - The Unnamable, Dire Wolves and Markus

[Gordian Nought]

---

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin

---

Tenacious beasts, these. And plenty dangerous enough to harm his companions - though they largely missed their opportunity to wound, one did succeed in injuring the elven lady to one side of him, though only after the dramatic arrival of a newcomer to the fray. Another spellcaster, as it happened. With three people now explicitly aiming to strike down the apparent pack leader, Talran felt safe in coming to her aid, though rather than explicitly forcing his protection upon her, he wondered at a different, more flexible tactic - moving around the body of the recently-defeated wolf, he had his steed hurry to the opposite side of the wolf nearest its leader, and struck out at its flank, hoping to inflict the blow that would end its threat against the less physically-capable fighter, or if not, giving her ample opportunity to do so in her own right. In doing this, he reckoned he'd be in prime position to rush to the aid of whoever else required it as appropriate.

---

@Gordian Nought Egil

---

The alpha teased by his younger brother’s yelp with expiry notes of murder as the paladin purchased his target with steel. Drawing low to high once more with his gesturing hand, Egil tugged on the reins to maneuver upon the elder wolf’s flank. Then the outstretched blade, where it glinted delicately in the subdued Barovian light, struck the monstrosity, with the flat of his sword, hoping to bluntly conquer the crazed animal. Its arrival upon the writhing form of a hound, coating it briefly in its own bloody rime, left the atrocity standing.

Melting.

As if the hide promised to erupt soon from a Vesuvius center.

Mechanics

Talran rides around to the backside of Dire Wolf 3, positioning himself directly on its opposite side compared to Mhyrienne in order to flank it, then uses his action to attack it with advantage. His attack roll is 15, and the damage on hit is 7. His mount will once again use the Dodge action, as neither Talran nor steed inflict an AoO simply by moving around within its reach.

Egil rolls a natural 20, but deals only 4 damage. The alpha is becoming slowly unrecognizable.

Round 3 - Talran and Egil

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Lady Selune Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious

---

Damn these wolves! It was rare she had seen a creature withstand a single one of her bolts and survive, let alone withstand a bolt and not even flinch. Squeezing the flanks of her strange steed, she looked at the wolf that... Honestly, could be classified as more raw meat, and closed her eyes. A heartbeat passed, and she hooked a thumb into a throwing knife at her belt.

In one smooth motion, she flicked her hand up and sent the dagger spinning towards the wolf... Only for it to miss and harmlessly bounce off the dirt a foot and a half away from the creature. What was wrong with her today? First the bolts, then the dagger. She scowled inwardly. She would need that dagger back, and made a mental note as to where it was.

Mechanics

Mhyrienne fucking misses a dagger because the dice gods hate her.

---

@Zverda Anala Attor

---

The howl of the wolf seemed poorly timed indeed as the figure above attempted to strike down the noisy beast with a bolt of fire. As she readied herself, a bow of flame in her hand, Rogath let out a noise of ill content and began to prance a bit as his ears pinned back against his head. "Rogath, what are you doing?" she hissed between clenched teeth as she lost her grip on the arrow and watched as it sailed over the wolf and landed harmlessly behind it before disappearing in a plume of dark smoke, "I was so close, what are you doing prancing around like this?"

Mechanics

Tried to Firebolt a Wolf... horsey got unhappy with the howl and made it miss. Sad sad day to get an eight on an attack roll wouldn't you say?

[Gordian Nought]

---

@JohnSolaris Zaerith Dustborn

---

Another one joins the fight, flinging an impressive array of energy bolts from atop a cliff and dealing significant damage to the wolves below. But Zaerith does not spare more than a brief glance; there will be more chances for introductions after they’ve neutralized those deadly predators.

Speaking of deadly predators… The one with red eyes lets out an unsettling howl rather unlike the rest of its kin, and something beneath its skin crawls. What in the name of Rovagug’s rear exhaust pipe? Zaerith frowns. Don’t tell me that thing is actually a construct piloted by a-

No, no, he cannot afford to get distracted. Whatever this thing is, it’s trouble. But transforming is not a free action, so while the beast is busy perhaps he can-

Whoosh.

The beast moves with unnatural speed, evading Zaerith’s attack despite being flanked by the fighter on its opposite. Under his breath Zaerith cannot help but to curse. This body, still so much weaker than what he is used to… Can he possibly hope to face Strahd von Zarovich like this? No, that is a silly question. Will his strength recover enough, if he will even have the opportunity to confront the blood-sucking Darklord?

What are you afraid of? The Jester whispers in his ears, the voice like a sickly sweet poison. You cannot die. You have all the time in the world to try, and try, and try again, until you fulfill your purpose. I have made sure of that.

For a moment Zaerith wonders why it even matters. He can simply lie down and allow the wolves to devour him, pick his bones clean… Not like that has stopped him in the past. But no, that will have him lose time, precious time that he can otherwise spend to get closer to his goal, his salvation, his release.

The guide wanted him to get closer to the man with a puppet, so Zaerith obliges. Perhaps it will be safer to keep his distance from the morphing alpha wolf after all.

Mechanics

Zaerith tries to attack dire wolf 1 with flanking advantage from Egil and +1d4 due to Bless from Talran, but still misses because the RNG is a fucking rigged piece of shit. He then has his buggy horse Disengage to avoid AoOs from Dire Wolf 1, before moving up six grids to end at the Unnamable's right side.

Round 3 - Mhyrienne, Anala and Zaerith

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Hekazu The Unnamable

---

What was this feeling that the howl carried with it? It was not something one could quite place their finger on, but it was the herald of trouble to come. Until the odd melting transformation of sorts attempted to begin. It appeared yet contained, but only just. It might be wise to stop it, if something of the sort would indeed be possible... But George had a point just as well. One could not strain their mind indefinitely. To blacken it again like paper in fire would be most unwise. The perversion of one's studies should not be performed until as a last resort.

And a perversion the wolf was. Yet perhaps one could avoid the full despicability of it by not allowing it aid in the completion of its unnatural metamorphosis? After all, wolves were not insects, not creatures that would cocoon themselves, not ones to bloom in moths or other winged creatures. No, they were not intended for such a life, and if one avoided giving them the chance to follow this abhorrent second nature, perhaps they could avoid bringing it forth in the entirety?

And thus, the attention of the doll and its handler were turned to the one last remaining wolf that exhibited no signs of such unnatural twisting of the very nature of life. The barbarous mind of the animal would be the target of the first assault it had seen, but the same could hardly be said for the assailing party. The strike was brought into being through will and will alone, and it would seek the dire canine.

Mechanics

The Unnamable has his horse Dodge once again as he fires a Mind Thrust (120 feet range) at Dire Wolf 4. The attack roll came up as a 10 and on a hit the attack will deal 10 damage.

---

@Gordian Nought Markus

---

The alpha shook off more of its thawing sinew, whilst whirling and shooting its companion a convoluted squint fashioned of a dangling zygomatic arch and a receding eyeless orbit. The lesser wolf comprehended, somehow, swiftly attacking, with and without fail, the nearest erect and still standing morsel. The snarling bite, however lacked permission, unrated by the nimble elf, fleeting further from Mhyrienne than the prior assaults on the pack’s leader. Naivety somehow sprouted amidst the party’s strikes, yielding forgone opportunities and deficient graces against the crumbling beast.

The remnant pair. All against the seven. An unparalleled number, quilted of luck and destiny. Yet, the odds were still and always in Barovia’s fervent favor.

The Vistani understood this and now the bleeding monstrosity’s wounds clearly more than ever. Its slimy silhouette becoming more paramount than the epileptic howl.

His unsheathed hand hurriedly lifted away to George’s side, transitioning an open palm to a clenched fist, as Markus thrust the opposite grip on the electric blade into the air. The spectacle charged, worthy of knighting the quiet figurine beheld in the handler’s lap, elegantly polished by the gypsy’s following command:

“Into the silence.”

At this focused beck, amongst the paradoxical unheard verdict, the guide’s warnings and disclaimers soon fell on unperceiving ears, pouncing against an invisible barrier which gestured an absolute taciturnity.

Mechanics

Dire Wolf 1 attacks/misses Egil. Dire Wolf passes its Death Save. Dire Wolf 3 and 5 fail their Death Save. Dire Wolf 4 attacks/misses Mhyrienne. Markus casts Silence (requires Concentration) on George.

Round 4 - The Unnamable, Dire Wolves and Markus

[Gordian Nought]

---

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin

---

For a moment, Talran rather felt that the woman he'd made efforts to assist had squandered those efforts. Not that she didn't act in self-defense - she dodged the attacks of the wolf assailing her most gracefully indeed, in fact. Only... well, it wasn't worth lambasting a person for what they did, even internally, and especially in a highly-stressful situation such as a fight. What mattered was that he kept helping those who needed it most - which was again the elven woman.

With a valiant war cry, he had his steed charge round her, and with a mighty blow struck down the wolf as it was distracted with assailing her. With that matter settled, Talran quickly uttered 'Stay alert - worse is yet to come,' before wheeling about and rushing the remaining dire wolf, less with the intent of trying to finish it off, and more to protect Egil when it inevitably decided to try and destroy him in this foul, mutated state it had acquired for itself. By whatever means.

Mechanics

Talran moves 15 feet to Mhyrienne's left, rolls a 19 to hit Dire Wolf 4 and a 10 to damage it (more than sufficient to knock it unconscious), then moves another 30 feet out of his remaining 35 this round to reach Egil, ready to use his Fighting Style to impose disadvantage on any attacks Dire Wolf 1 makes against him or whoever else moves next to Talran. His mount takes the Dodge action again. Round 3 of 10 for Mhyrienne, Markus, and Zaerith's Blessings.

---

@Gordian Nought Egil

---

The stolen edge of the fighter struck the dissolving hound; as a Krakatoan creature, flesh resurrected with riddled stitches and spinal column meshed with charred bones. The titan’s bleeding throat dripped an amnesia of fear, behooving stained fragments of an experiment interdimensional past. Its extinctional existence begot a miscarriage of memories, forged of a former existence, recompensed in full fury before Talran and Egil, now echoing the possibility of disaster which had befallen a myriad of prey before and beyond the grave.

The Vistani gazed, in silence, at the Howler, comprehending all too well the mind-numbing screech which flooded its victims. The disoriented thoughts would chatter like mischievous monkeys, prattling upon the purpose of this Kreskovian leviathan, affronting their escape. Its scarlet wreathes stared into the paladin’s soul, issuing taxes of despair.

After a reflexive gulp, the muddy behemoth tampered with the surrounding inky air eroding the atmosphere, with murky concentration, harnessing a dénouement the duo would wish not to spectate firsthand.

The beast immediately mocked them.

Yet, it was peculiar and familiar? A brief verbal swine of forsaken screams soon coalesced to generate a scorned cacophony of laughter, not from a singularity, but, as if, its war cry originated from the bellows of suffering children.

Each ridiculed its voice, with demented tidal waves of an acoustic sea of heretical mirth. The whispers eventually corroborated into corporeality before the respective warrior and knight, soon assembling into blaring rank as a hissing barb, protecting its morbid parent.

An empty promise filled an unspoken niche within the ranger’s heart he had not previously entertained since they left Starovir.

Jealousy was no longer a green-eyed monster.

Mechanics

Egil attacks the Alpha Wolf. The Howler within emerges with an ear shattering squeal. Those not in the Silence originating from George must make a Wisdom Saving Throw.

Round 4 - Talran and Egil

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Gordian Nought Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious

---

The ravens remained.

They gawked and hooted, despite the unveiled monstrosity’s frenzied scream harmonizing with the apparent chaos all around. The trees’ fowl instead embraced the branches as bleachers, leaning and flapping, eager to witness on the feverish spectacle. The whistles swelled in cheer, unbeknownst to those below, for which team the rooting crescendos intended.

It was odd to Mhyrienne.

No matter. There was no more time to waste.

Her fingers soon writhed into recursive sadistic smiles, curdling onto a magical couplet, like chopped kindling amidst the beginning of an unquenchable fire. The palmed Eldritch crusade quickly wrought onto a congealed angst, prophetic in pain and practice, then lobbed upon the Howler’s discarded flesh. With the following snap of her downward thumb, an additional curse whispered upon the wailing beast, vexing another insult to injury.

Before her eyes could enjoy the fermented torment, she ferried away from the fallen hounds strewn all about her, byproducts of the prior ambush gone sour. The elf soon met the reckless safety of the brush crawling slothfully along the crags of the circumscribing cliff-side, hugging and cuddling the jagged precipice which earlier held the mysterious mage, above hurling bolts of fire.

Friend or foe? The angle would prohibit the warlock from being such an easy target, if the enemy indeed also had higher ground.

Mechanics

Mhyrienne casts Agonizing Blast and Hex on the Howler (14 damage total), targeting Wisdom. She moves into ½ cover, obscured by the surrounding foliage.

---

@Zverda Anala Attor

---

The sound of the howler's voice set the woman and her horse on edge, Rogath prancing slightly as if he was getting ready to bolt, but she patted the horse into stillness. "ithquent di marfedelom, si, dout ibleua katima relgric ekik ekess wux. majak ve wer vers ekess svent nomeno irlym." the figure called out, the movement of her arms arcing into a circle as a dark green orb appeared before her, the gem upon her throat resonating with a matching color.

With an almost comically small push, the orb sped towards the Howler, enveloping it in its swirling mass before winking out of existence. At first, it seemed as if her spell had done nothing, but then the monstrosity began to howl in agony. There were no visible signs of what was happening at first, the beast left to writhe on the ground before it began to foam at the mouth, the color black and foul smelling.

In the Howler's last moments of life, it let out a howl that was soon cut off by a rather violent spray of blood from its mouth, buts of liquefied organs mixed in with the naturally grainy texture. Sadly, it seemed that Egil and Talran were given the express honor of wearing what was being evacuated from the creatures body, the smell horrendous and the texture like coffee grounds left out to rot.

Back up on the cliff, the manservant was still standing next to his Master, offering their tea cup back to them yet again. "Well done M'Lady," he said with a nod of his balding head, "What a spectacular finish. Not as explosive as your usual methods, but still messy."

End of Combat - Mhyrienne and Anala

Anala rolls w/ disadvantage (due to failed Wisdom Saving Throw), lowest being a 16. Casts Poisoned Chromatic Orb at the Howler and removes it's remaining HP with a spectacular 23 damage... it proceeds to have its organs liquefied and spewed on those unlucky enough to be close by.

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Zverda Anala Attor

---

With the battle done and the monstrosity wonderfully liquified on the inside oozing out, she deemed it necessary to at least go down and greet those she had fought with, even if it was brief. "Come Sebastian," she said, "Let us go greet our temporary allies, maybe we can make them permanent ones. It could not hurt to see if their goals align with our own."

Nudging Rogath, she turned her horse around and began to head down the path that would lead her to the group that had just taken down the dire wolves. After a minute or two of riding, she came across the group just as their guide seemed to be ready to try and move them along. "Hello strangers," she said with a smile, the hood of her riding cloak resting back so her face was in full view. Her garb was a bit extravagant for riding leathers, the right shoulder appearing to have light blue crystalline objects following along the neckline across the back and to the other shoulder, though as she moved, they swayed. It was a strange way to work fabric and the like, but it gave the desired effect of her pale skin seeming far more paler allowing the blue tattoos she had to stand out even more.

"What brings you to these dangerous parts?" she asked, eyes scanning each person in turn with a hint of curiosity and maybe a drop of judgement.

---

@Hekazu The Unnamable

---

It was over. The most distressing of moments had passed without much of an incident, if only because of the air near the gate refused to carry over the howl one's eyes could see take place clear as day. Before any of the people within the merciful bubble had the chance to act however, those outside of it did annihilate the creature in short order. George was raised against the man's chest over his heart while the other hand that did not carry the item brushed into the puppet's hair. With the silence not quite yet over, the man sighed with inaudible breath, his hand ruffling the strands on the puppet's head.

The horse had been turned around and the group was preparing to approach the gates once again when the newcomer from the cliff approached them from the side. The purple-eyed man blinked a few times, as if unsure what he was seeing was quite correct. It could not be... George would be raised from the chest back into the air, the puppet's arms flopping lazily to its sides as its lifeless eyes drilled into the approaching person. "She has the look, doesn't she George?" the puppeteer asked of the doll, seemingly ignoring the question asked by the approaching woman.

There was a brief silence, after which George was jerked around for the doll's eyes to meet the purple pair once again. "No George, we do not say such things!" the puppeteer shouted at his only companion that was composed of fabric. But it was not long after before the doll was pressed against the man's heart again, and his left arm wrapped around it protectively. The man's eyes, however, still lingered on the newcomer's face.

---

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Gordian Nought Egil

---

The no longer howling amalgamated piñata, unstable and volatile, spew, quite unexpectedly, forth molten viscera all upon the stern knight and the once hailed champion of Vaasa. Not even all the violent waves of Lake Ashane could wipe the spilt entrails clean off of Egil’s armor, all courtesy of a falling lush sphere. From the poisonous gavel of this apparent royalty, now trotting whimsically towards the puppeteer.

The salutation beckoned invitation. “Hello strangers.”

The accommodating manservant. Tea time. And a bridled Clydesdale. All were dead giveaways, pointing to a sovereign woman of a virtuous lineage.

But from where?

His stoic countenance suddenly cracked in thought, startled slightly, as he barely gathered the silhouette of Mhyrienne partially obfuscated in the underbelly of the verdure. He anticipated she or at least Zaerith would eventually spare a prestidigitation to liberate Talran and himself from the divorced filth of the unholy union of wolf and fiend, splayed all over their garb.

Yet, timeliness mattered not, for the fighter’s manners were an unrefined benediction, since his fateful fall in Rasheman. His forgotten footsteps approaching the nearby human corpse were half-buried, face-down in the underbrush about fifteen feet from the paladin. The muddy clothes were torn, raked with claw marks, disinteresting as a spoil of elderly constitution, still unnoticed by Egil, who was more intently focused on the power of the saddled beauty now admist them.

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Hekazu The Unnamable

---

Confusion spread on the puppeteer's face as many of the people waited to say their piece. Were they afraid? This new acquaintance had, after all, been on their side. The man tore his eyes away from her regal figure, only for them to accidentally land on something on the ground that the approaching warrior almost stepped on. The warrior that now smelled worse than him. And in the man's time here, they had been referred to as a smelly bum quite a few times. Surely that could not be exactly accurate? But they had not seen the truth in his home, nor did they open their eyes to it in here. What could they know...

The conglomeration of bugs that was the man's steed took a few steps forward due to the guidance of its temporary master. It was far from the graceful animal that the newcomer had presented with herself, but it was a mount nonetheless. Approaching the scrap on the ground confirmed that it was indeed something important, and the hunched figure on horseback slid away from his 'saddle', taking a few cautious steps even closer. "Oh look George! A discovery!" an enthusiastic declaration was made.

The puppet picked the letter from the ground in its two hands and held it before the man's face for closer inspection. "Ah", the puppeteer would comment, stuffing the letter under his coat for now, and starting to climb back on horseback. The others could not leave without George. They wouldn't get anywhere in this realm without a bit of guidance.

---

@BCTheEntity Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin

---

Talran was no stranger to fear. He'd been pricked by its terrorising lance many a time as a child, and in the time of his apprenticeship to a master, he'd experienced fear many times. Yet, having done so, he had been inured to it, forged into a stalwart barrier against its probing tendrils, and so despite the primal urge of flee that surged from the depths of his being as the demon before him shrieked, revealing its many teeth and the depths of its maw, he stood his ground, grit his teeth, and endured that sensation, more than ready to strike out at the fiend before him.

Before he could, the thing perished in most gruesome fashion. An orb of something was hurled at it and struck true, leaving it apparently intact... before it howled with pain, collapsing and foaming at the mouth, a mixture of saliva and what was likely ichor. This, unfortunately, was all the warning he got before its final scream was cut off as the creature threw up its own foul insides, all over both him and the man he'd intended to protect; he barely even had time to screw his mouth and eyes shut before the vile mixture splattered him - and Gods above, it smelled as disgusting as it looked! He barely kept his dinner in, despite himself.

Once he'd quelled his gagging, and Talran was able to wipe the vile goo off his face and start breathing through his mouth, he blinked at the remains of the creature that lay before him. He was sure he'd seen it around before, but despite that, he could find no correlation to anything he'd ever seen before. Perhaps the malformation of its figure after... well, best not to keep lingering on that matter.

More pertinently, a newcomer approached. A rich, perhaps noble woman, a matter that her loyal manservant's presence confirmed. Ascertaining that nobody was in dire need of assistance quite yet, Talran approached her, albeit a mite unsteadily, and waved appreciatively from a comfortable distance off.

'Madam, it's good to see a friendly face round these parts,' Talran called, smiling despite his situation. 'And might I say, you are clearly blessed with potent magical ability? If it's no trouble, might I ask the name of she who has slain this demon so thoroughly?'

---

@Gordian Nought Egil

---

The fighter approached the assembled throng around the regal rider, leaving the elf to lurk in the shadows, just as the daft puppet lifted a sealed parchment from the soiled brush. The talented handler impressed Egil; it seemed George possessed a mind.

Of his own. So to speak.

He soon returned to the body, recalling his task to rummage through the corpse, flipping the body sunny side up, looking for wounds and displaying the rigor mortis of facial fear in the full misty light.

"This man has been dead for a while. I can't tell though. The wolves must have just found him."

---

[Gordian Nought]

---

@Gordian Nought Markus

---

Reflexively, the ranger raised his hand behind his head whilst Egil again nursed the expired traveler's corpus, scratching a goblin of confusion below the occiput of his remembrance as he fully gleaned Anala’s hail. The toll of morale and physicality haphazardly appeared to be appraised ever higher with this impending Sorceress from Sithicus, noting this bizarre friendliness to all here, though most claimed as strangers.

Markus indeed knew her. Yet, one’s celebrity does not easily recollect conversely the swarm thronged upon them.

A price she might have to pay, if not deceptively negligent. Bequeathing to the royal rider’s request, the gypsy, with crumbling steps, hopped off the writhing wormy vehicle, with mirth oozing between the Vistani's softly gritted teeth. Bowing his spine with maddening glee afore the regal figure, while bending his left knee, the merriment within the smile smoldered slightly. A veneration of incense that once fumigated his stance under the scattering daylight now erupted into a respect only few were privileged prior.

“It is fate, that brings us, Lady Attor. For what do we owe your Heiress the pleasure?”

The enveloped adoration suddenly and swiftly erected the man to both feet, not lingering to sample a reply, foiling against the towering chaos of the looming trickster and the moldy mountain of bugs nearby, and striking those perceptive enough with a fleeting esteem reminiscent of an odium masked.

---

@Zverda Anala Attor

---

The woman's eyes moved to Markus, a flicker of recognition and then glee flashing through her eyes. "Markus!" she exclaimed delightedly, sliding herself from her mount to embrace the man, "It has been too long! How have you and your people been?" While she did not like many people, she loved the Vistani and their ways, she was pleased to see a familiar face so far from her home.

"Young Mistress," her man servant, Sebastian, started in shock, only to be waved off.

"It is just fine Sebastian, I know this man," she stated before turning to the others, "My name is Anala Vishtar Attor, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance and uh... sorry about the mess."

She offered a sheepish smile to those who had been in the way of the Howler's rather violent end before looking at the Unnamable and giving him a wink, her sheepish smile turning into a sly one. Turning her attention away from the male, she changed her focus to Egil and Talran before wrinkling her nose and used a bit of her magic, Presdigitation was a wonderful thing to know.

---

[Gordian Nought]

---

@JohnSolaris Zaerith Dustborn

---

The formerly red-eyed dire wolf sheds its guise like a grotesque mockery of an insect’s molting, bits of flesh and sinew sloughing off its body to reveal a far more monstrous form underneath. Alas, ‘tis not a construct piloted by a bee after all. The sight quickly becomes almost comical again to Zaerith for an altogether different reason, as his gaze is drawn to its bloated, sphere-shaped chin. Looks like something the Jester would have cooked up… Ah, but the Jester would have given the thing a beard. Not on the exaggerated chin, of course, but further down. On its neck, perhaps. No, no, this isn’t good; he needs to take this creature seriously, especially as he fails to recall whether he has encountered anything like this before. Truly a convenient thing, his memory.

As the horrific caricature of a beast finishes its transformation, it opens its mouth wide, but no sound comes out. In fact, Zaerith can hear no sound at all, not even the sound of his own heartbeats or breathing. The Vistani… He did this. As he witnesses the pale man in chainmail flinch and grit his teeth, Zaerith can surmise what the magical silence must be for. Whatever the creature’s roar might have sounded like, it could not have been pleasant.

…and before Zaerith can do anything, the figure who had helped them slay the wolves earlier flings a sphere of dark green energy from atop her cliff, the magic striking the beast squarely before it has a chance to dodge. The effect is immediate, the details of which Zaerith would rather not describe. Suffice to say, it looks even worse than the creature’s transformation process earlier, and he can smell it from even this distance away. How unfortunate that he never bothered to learn the basic wizardly Prestidigitation; the two armored warriors of the party may have to live with the honor of being decorated with the thing’s spilled guts. A sad fate indeed.

As the newcomer approaches, Zaerith takes the opportunity to have a more careful look. A woman, human-looking, but dressed rather more extravagantly than most travellers he’s seen. But what really draws his attention is the subtle presence of scales visible on parts of her body, their green hue a bit too vivid to be likely to be from anything other than dragons. And the magic she displayed earlier… Dragon-blooded sorcery, perhaps? A question for another time, assuming this woman will assist the party on their quest to “save” Strahd von Zarovich. A prospect that is not too unlikely, as she appears quite familiar already with their Vistani guide. “Lady” and “Heiress”, he calls her, as well as the presence of the old man that appears to be an attendant of some sort, addressing her as “Mistress”. Hmm…

A few others in the party have begun conversing with the newcomer, but Zaerith does not volunteer. Small talk is not worth the effort, and information will only be divulged when he deems necessary. Instead, he takes this time to analyze the combat capabilities of his recently-gained allies. The pale man is clearly a wielder of divine magic, but his armor and weapon suggest that he is less priestly and more the holy warrior who smites so-called evil. The eccentric puppeteer, on the other hand, appeared to do no more than glare at the wolves, yet they recoiled with obvious pain. A practitioner of the poorly-understood psionic powers, perhaps? The elven woman is easy; he recognizes a warlock’s eldritch blast from anywhere. Lastly is their Vistani guide, whose swift strikes and spells from the battle earlier makes him warier than ever. Once again, he doubts why they need people like him if they themselves are already so strong. This Lady Eva of theirs had better have a good explanation ready…

---