mickume/alt_dnd · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 41.4k
Alleria had been tracking a hunting party of Orcs through the Shadowdale, when she caught wind of another trail in the immediate area. As an Elf, she was torn between following the group of orcs – her mortal enemy - and following the new trail, which reeked of undeath. As a Druid, one of Mother Nature’s warriors, the unnaturalness of it couldn’t be ignored. She altered course, following the new path. Tracking through the night, she closed in on the source of the corruption. Alleria had been granted, by the Mother, the ability to shift her form into that of any animal, so it was in the guise of a large predatory cat that she loped stealthily through the dark forest.
A thick mist rolled in from nowhere, blanketing the forest floor and cloaking her surroundings. Before she fully understood the scope of it, it had enveloped her immediate area completely. Her keen senses, which were normally perfectly suited for nocturnal tracking, failed her. The white cat stumbled blindly through the thick haze. When it lifted, and she could see and hear again, it was very quickly clear to the Elven Druid that she was no longer in the Dalelands.
The mist that had surrounded her in the Shadowdale lingered here as well, dissipating by the second. Everything, from the ground cover, the trees, the sky and the very smell of the land was different. Jarringly so. This place was wrong. A shiver ran down her long feline spine. The stench of rot and decay was also more prevalent here. Unsure of what had just happened, Alleria went with the immediately obvious choice – find and kill the Undead.
After a hundred meters or so of scent alone, the sounds of battle rose to join the trail. With stealth no longer needed, Alleria shape-shifted into her favored form – a giant white dire wolf with bright blue eyes. The ritual scarification that covered her skin in Elven form transferred over to her animal appearance as well. It was those strange marks upon her pelt that had saved her from accidents or misunderstandings in the past, as they clearly marked her as a druid. But, she had no way of knowing that the group she was moving towards to aid, had had bloody run ins in this realm with both druids and wolves. The latter plagued the land, on two feet as well as four.
Alleria arrived at the edge of a clearing, a battle laid out before her. At first sight, a group of five or six were fighting a horde of skeletons and shadows. In the air, above them, a sinister man dressed in black and red hovered on a flying Nightmare. Draped across his lap was what looking like a female form in leather armor. Directly beneath the demonic horse, and acting crazed, was a badger the size of a bear.
After assessing the situation for a moment, Alleria charged out from the brush, attacking a trio of skeletal knights with a vicious ferocity. She did a fair job of wearing them down, but ultimately, it was a pair of men with swords and shields that finished them off. Alleria guessed they were either paladin or priest, as they fought with holy damage. The battle was bloody, but well fought and the undead minions were quickly dispatched of. Unfortunately, the group was unable to rescue their comrade from the man on the flying horse. They had flown off into the darkening sky, the mad badger racing after them.
She recognized the two armored men as a Human and Half-Elf. Not far behind them a Human female and two other fair skinned Half-Elves approached. None of them looked particularly in the mood to be making new friends; battered and disturbed by their companion’s abduction. Despite this, she made the decision to reveal herself.
She quickly reversed her decision when an obsidian skinned Half-Elf joined the them. Rankled by the sight of the Drow, even a half-breed, caused her to think better of revealing herself just yet. She slipped back into the woods, skulking away so that she might follow and observe further.
After the run in with the undead, the group walked for nearly two more full days. Along the road, in the middle of nowhere, it was easy for Alleria to follow them closely. She learned a great deal about them, and this strange realm, from snippets of their conversation. The Cleric, and what she assumed was a Bard, seemed to be the most boisterous of the lot, with the former spending a great deal of time bemoaning the lack of ale in the realm. His complaints were often met from the others speaking favorably about the wine of the area.
When they stopped to forage, or make camp, she was better able to get a feel for them. From the sounds of the plans they were making, they were on a quest to rid the land of some great evil. Her assumption was, that it had something to do with the ominous man on the flying horse.
Alleria followed them all the way to a dreary town by the name of Vallaki. When they entered, she continued to follow, but under the cover of a travelling cloak instead. They visited a local church, where they were joined by a young man and woman. Alleria took them for locals, and possibly brother and sister. She finally decided to reveal herself to them. No longer trying to hide herself under cover of the crowd, she made herself more noticeable.
Outside an Inn, the dark-haired Paladin paused and turned to look back and the throng of townsfolk.
"Come out, you have nothing to fear from us." He called out. They had become accustomed to being followed perhaps. As strangers to area, they did stick out like sore thumbs. Despite this, he didn’t seem to know exactly who had been tracking them, he couldn’t pick her out of the crowd.
The Half-Elf Cleric spoke next, "Aye, show yourself. If you be friend, we will drink together and share our tale."
At that, Alleria stepped out of the crowed, pulling back her hood to reveal herself.
"I am Alleria Moonshadow, of the Dalelands. I see from your garb and speech that you are also from Faerun." It was a statement, not a question.
"Aye, fair Elf, we too are strangers to this land, brought here by a strange mist. I am Mason Carpenter, a humble priest of the The Captain of the Waves, Valkur. This here is Dhamon Grim, Paladin of Torm. The human lass with the bow is Baasha, the two other Half-Elves are Keening and Quintis and..." The members of the group nodded as they were introduced. When he went to introduce the half-Drow, he seemed inclined to speak for himself.
"Tallonon Bloodborn." He said with a slight edge as he watched Alleria closely, trying to guess her reaction.
Alleria’s reaction was one of complete non-reaction as she completely ignored the dark-skinned Half-Elf.
Seeing the snub, Dhamon spoke up. "We have traveled with Tallonon since coming to this land. He had proven himself a good and loyal ally."
"Aye, fair-one." Mason addressed her once again. "The rest of us with Elven blood have accepted him. Judge him not by his blood please, but by his actions."
Tallonon seemed completely put off by the She-Elf’s rudeness and stomped off to the door of the Inn, disappearing inside.
Assuming that her acceptance by the group was not contingent on making friends with all of them, she followed the others into the Inn as well. It was there, over mediocre food yet fine wine, that they exchanged tales.
Mason had been right about the lack of ale, but the wine was better than average. The more he consumed, the chummier he got towards her. Despite his drinking, he was pleasant enough, so she took no offense.
The others were more concerned with filling in their new traveling companion about their arrival in Barovia, the quest bestowed by the Vistani Gypsies and all they had learned about the Vampire Lord Strahd.
"The blade I carry is one of the items the Vistani sent us to find." Dhamon explained over a bowl of stew.
"It is supposed to disrupt Strahd’s regeneration, which is rumored to be far superior to that of an average vampire." Tallonon added. Alleria’s attention still on Dhamon though. The Half-Drow scowled and snatched up his drink, brooding over it.
Mason was far too tipsy this time to intervene on behalf of his dark-skinned friend. He was far more intent on finding out the secret to getting Alleria into his bed. An attempt that was going nowhere, as she seemed equally intent on ignoring him. Both she and Dhamon did their best to talk over, and around him.
"We also have the Tome of Strahd. That part was fairly simple." Dhamon dipped his head towards a table in the corner of the common room. Quintis and Keening were chatting up a trio of local girls with loud and no doubt exaggerated tales of their battles. Quintis, seemed to be fairing much better with the ladies than Keening. Though both were handsome enough, Quintis had a roguish air around him.
The Paladin continued, "Quintis has been studying the tome, to see if its contents can be of any use."
Baasha glanced over as well, rolling her eyes as caught sight of the gregarious behavior of her two traveling companions.
Alleria also noticed the two locals that the group had met up with at the church. They were in a heated, hushed discussion in another corner of the large room. Alleria jerked her head in their direction, "What is their part in this?"
"Ahh, yes. Ismark and Ireena. Their father was the Burgomaster of the Village of Barovia. Ireena had garnered the attention of Strahd, and Ismark beseeched us to bring her here, thinking she would be safer here than their little village. It is my understanding though, that there have been several odd occurrences, and attacks on the church since we dropped them off." Dhamon glanced over at the siblings, who were still heatedly debating something. "She wishes to go to Krazk with us, to meet with the Abbot. He wishes her to stay."
Alleria nodded at the information, but as it didn’t appear to directly affect their quest, she steered the conversation back to that topic. "So all that remains is the Holy Symbol?"
"I’d like to show you my holy symbol." Mason said with a bit of a slur and a rakish grin plastered on his rosy cheeked face.
Baasha snickered behind her glass, but Tallonon snorted derisively, apparently having his fill of the conversation. He pushed his chair away from the table loudly and left the common room without another word.
"Correct. We don’t have a lead on the relic itself, but the local priest has suggested we try the Abbey in Krazk. The Abbot is supposed to be a rather...unique and powerful individual. He might have some direction for us." Dhamon said before taking another drink of wine, his mouth dry from all talk.
"We should pay the Burgomaster a visit as well." Baasha commented, pushing the remnants of her strew around in her near empty bowl. She glanced over at the retreating Tallonon, her brow furrowing slightly.
Alleria’s gaze followed Baasha’s, but she said nothing. She just couldn’t bring herself to have anything to do with the white haired Half-Elf. The bad blood between her kind and Drow went too deep. This was compounded by the fact he was a Warlock, and the practice of infernal magics further rubbed her the wrong way.
Their attention was snapped back to their table at the sound of a loud THUMP! Baasha started, dropping her spoon. Mason had passed out, his head hitting the table unceremoniously.
With a sigh, Dhamon put down his glass, "A hand, Baasha?"
The dark-haired huntress gave a mild look of disdain in response to Mason’s over indulgence, but she stood to help none the less. Both she and Dhamon grabbed an arm and hauled the inebriated sailor across the room and up the stairs. Alleria followed, a mild look of amusement on her lips. She did not go upstairs though, instead finding a place to sit at the foot of them. Making herself comfortable, she started her nightly meditations.
Alleria was the first one into the common room for breakfast, and was joined shortly after by Baasha and Dhamon. Halfway through the meal Tallonon came down from the second floor. He looked far less surly than he had the night before. That was until he saw Alleria and his glower returned. The three had finished their morning meal before Mason, Quintis and Keening entered the common room. The trio of Half-Elves looked a little worse for wear, with Mason looking particularly rough around the edges. Keening’s curls were flattened to the side of his head on one side, giving him a comedic look. Grumbling bitterly about the lack of ale, and what sounded like having been bitten by a dog, Mason plunked himself down at a barstool.
The three late arrivals didn’t get a chance to order anything to eat, as they were all interrupted by a racket outside the Inn. The sound of a women in distress carried through the half open windows of the common room. Dhamon and Baasha both went to investigate, while the rest hung back, either waiting by the door or retuning to the bar to finish their morning meal
Mason sidled un to Alleria, who was waiting by the door. "I had the most intriguing dream last night. I was running through the woods at night, under a full moon. I was being chased by pack of wolves. When they caught me, a great she-wolf pinned me to the ground. She changed into a beautiful elf and had her way with me." He gave her a sidelong glance, trying his best to look coy. "Whatever do you think it might mean?"
"I think it means you should not drink so much in the evening. Or, not go into the woods by yourself at night." She replied, dryly, not taking his bait.
Mason laughed good-naturedly. He wasn’t going to accept defeat any time soon. Hearing the voices outside getting louder, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and gestured for Alleria to step outside. Following her, Mason stepped outside as well. Keening and Quintis protested mildly about not getting to finish their breakfast, but trailed along after them.
The scene in the street outside the Inn was tense. A group of city guards, their Captain, Ireena and Ismark were squared off. Flanked by a pair of his men, the guard captain was holding Ireena by the wrist. She was protesting loudly while trying to wrest her arm back. Ismark was shouting at the guards but had not gotten physical yet.
The most disturbing thing about the scene was guard captain’s left arm. It was shriveled and gnarled, completely unnatural looking - perhaps even demonic in origin.
"Valkur deliver me from this tempest of torment!" Mason said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as his dry morning eyes adjusted to the change in light.
Dhamon stepped forward. "Excuse us, good Captain, but that young woman and her brother are under our care." He was polite and calm, his dark green eyes full of determination.
"Mind your own business, outsiders. This doesn’t concern you." The guard captain said with a brutal sneer. He kept his grip firm on Ireena’s arm.
"She’s MY sister! Ismark shouted.
"You idiot. You don’t actually believe that, do you? The guard captain spat back. "She doesn’t look a thing like you!"
"Who cares whose damned sister she is?" Mason shot back. This inconvenience was keeping him from his breakfast and he was cranky. "All of this shouting isn’t going to make a difference either way.
The guardsmen moved in to close ranks around their superior.
"She’s under our protection, so let go of her our we’re going to have a problem." It was Quintis who had spoken up. He normally preferred to remain quiet, being more of a man of action than words.
The rest of the group moved up to stand around Dhamon and Alleria followed suit. The show of solidarity caused the guards to withdraw slightly and the captain let go of Ireena’s wrist. His other hand though, the demonic looking one, was raised up, threatening. With menace in his voice, he said, "You should all leave. Now. While you are still able."
"We were planning on departing this morning. So long as Ireena is not barred from doing so with us, we will be on our way." Dhamon said firmly. His emerald eyes shifted from the captain’s face, to his monstrous arm briefly.
Free from his grip, Ireena moved to stand behind Ismark. Quintis moved in, to where Ireena had been standing, to flank the guard captain. He gave Ireena a quick glance, checking to see that she was okay, before looking back to the threat at hand.
The tension in the air was palpable. Despite having let go of her, the guard captain appeared to have no desire to let her leave. He nodded his head to a pair of guards and they moved in on either side of the brother and sister.
"This can still be solved peacefully." Dhamon said, trying to sound positive, yet firm.
Feeling threatened by Quintis being so close to their leader, the guards moved in closer, twitchy and eager hands gripping their pike’s tightly. One of the guards overstepped and bumped into his captain, who in turn stumbled a step forward. With that demonic hand of his, he reached out for the closest thing to steady himself. That, unfortunately, was Dhamon’s raised shield. Mistaking his stumbling for a lunge, the city guards lowered their pikes, stepping forward to attack.
Dhamon, Quintis and Mason did the same, drawing weapons. Tallonon began to incant and Alleria parted the small crowed by shapeshifting into the large dire wolf. Somewhere off to the side, Keening drew – a small hand drum – and began to tap out a warm up tune.
The scene was about to dissolve into a full-on skirmish when an imperious voice called out above the crowd.
"Izsak, what is the meaning of this. I will not have such thuggish violence in my streets, especially with the Fire Festival so soon. Your men should be overseeing preparations, not harassing the good people of Vallaki and their guests."
The voice belonged to an overstuffed looking man dressed in fine garb on a grey stallion. He had on the most ridicules looking oversized hat with a red feather sticking from it. Beside him, on a light brown horse, was a woman dressed in an equal level of finery. She didn’t speak, but the look on her face would suggest she was extremely put off by the disruption.
"But, Sir." Izsak was reluctant to have his men put down their arms. "The outsiders. They will ruin your festival.
"Nonsense." Said the Burgomaster. "They will love it, just like the townsfolk. Tell your men to lower their weapons. We wouldn’t want to scare off our guests, would we?"
Izsak sneered at Dhamon with pure hatred in his eyes.
Working on the assumption, as he had not yet introduced himself, Dhamon looked past the guards and took a step towards the man on the horse.
"Burgomaster, while we would love to attend your festival, we have urgent business in Krazk." The Paladin explained and then added, "At the Abbey." He hoped mentioning the Abbot would add weight to his request to be excused.
The large man’s unruly eyebrows raised up high at the mention of the Abbey. "Oh, well, in that case, we shouldn’t keep you any longer. Please, Izsak, have your guards step aside so that our new friends may depart."
Izsak took a step back and waved off his guards to do the same. "This isn’t over..." he hissed at Dhamon through gritted teeth.
As the crowed started to disperse and the guards move off, the Burgomaster turned his horse and he and his wife departed as well.
"Well, now, that was exciting." Mason commented to no one in particular and idly reached up to ruffle the thick fur of the dire wolf’s neck.
It was either the overly familiar act of stroking her fur, or perhaps being treated like a common pet, that caused the large lupine to snap at Mason. She caught part of his hand in her mouth, drawing blood.
"Omberlee’s tits!" Mason exclaimed as he jerked his bloody hand back. Cradling his arm gingerly, he eyed the she-wolf warily. "I hope, where you are from, that is not considered foreplay." The priest added, his expression mellowing as he healed the injury to his hand. Behind him, Baasha and Keening sniggered and the latter handed over a gold piece to the former.
Tallonon spoke up, "We should get a start on our journey. We have a lot of ground to cover and I would like to put distance between us and that Izsak fellow."
"Agreed." Said Dhamon as he put his sword away and slung his shield over his back. He moved over to where Ireena and Ismark were standing, talking quietly to them as they made their way to the gate.
Quintis and Keening ducked back into the Inn to grab their packs and something for the road while Mason and Baasha followed along after Dhamon and Tallonon. The dire wolf cast its bright blue eyes over at Izsak, studying that demonic arm of his before trotting off to catch up to the group.
The trek to Krazk was, thankfully, without incident. Without attack, at least. Discussions shifted back and forth between the quest at hand, the first thing each would do when they returned home and speculation on the origins of Izsak’s disfigured arm. There had also been hushed conversations between Ireena and Ismark, of which Dhamon joined in on occasion, but Alleria disregarded for the most part.
The first night of their journey had them making camp on the side of the road. They were half way to Krazk, the Abbey and hopefully answers. Alleria was surprised, but grateful, that one of her new friends had some skill in cooking. She and Baasha trapped a handful of game birds which Quintis turned into the best meal Alleria had had in a very long time.
Keening, who had no skills when it came to cooking, camp making or anything particularly useful when it came to marching through the countryside, earned his keep by entertaining those who could. His long blond curls bobbed around his face as he played and sang emphatically. It was a little ditty about a naive princess oh-so fair and a handsome, yet shameless, Elven adventurer. Some of the lyrics made Ireena blush and Quintis joked it could be about his parents, had his mother been a princess and not the daughter of a traveling merchant.
After a fine meal and dubious entertainment, they decided on a watch order and bedded down for the night. Alleria had offered to keep watch the first half of the night, and trance the second part. It meant that the others could get more sleep. One by one, the others drifted off. All but Mason.
"Copper for your thoughts?" Mason asked, scooting up beside Alleria by the edge of the fire.
"Only a copper?" she asked with a slight smile. "I would have thought with your dogged determination; you would find me worth more than a copper."
"Aye, maybe I did, but then you bit me." He jibed.
"You were petting me, like a common dog. You touched me, without permission. You deserved it." She explained, sounding completely matter-of-factly. "Get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow." She stole a sidelong glance or two, but in the flickering flames of the fire his features looked harsh and unappealing, a stark contrast from their usual rugged handsomeness.
"Was that it? I’m more than happy to play the dog, if you want to do the petting instead." He tilted his head in her direction in offering.
She reached out to push him away. "You are more of a mule, than a dog, Mason." Her tone was light and teasing.
"You might be right there..." he said with a smirk. He could see she wouldn’t be giving in to him tonight though, and rather than get bitten again, he returned to his bedroll to sleep.
She watched his still body for a while and then turned her attention back to their surroundings, on guard for trouble.
The second day of walking was much like the first, uneventful and full of chatter. Keening entertained them with a series of songs and limericks throughout the better part of the day. The singing stopped when he was distracted by Mason and Quintis’ heated discussion on where to find the best Ale on the Sword Coast.
Tallonon and Dhamon were deep in discussion about where they should try next, if the Abbott turned out to be of no help. Alleria, who was walking behind them, was content to listen without contributing. She hadn’t been in Barovia long enough to know of the places that might be of help, for now, it was best that she listened and learned.
At times, when the two planners would fall silent in thought, she would catch Mason’s voice behind her. She was loathed to admit it, but her mind had wandered occasionally to him since their brief talk last night.
"He’s been like that since the get go."
Alleria turned to see Baasha. The brunette had fallen into step beside her, her bow slung over her shoulder while her hands worked over an arrow, checking it for flaws. She jerked her head towards the trio of Half-Elves.
"You’d never know we’d been ripped from our homeland against our will and lasted with killing a nigh immortal bloodsucking despot." She said in a dry, humorless tone. "No, you’d think we were out on some pre-wedding oat sowing romp."
"Ah." Alleria said with a nod of understanding. It didn’t matter to her what they did during down time, so long as she could count on them during a fight.

Alleria had been tracking a hunting party of Orcs through the Shadowdale, when she caught wind of another trail in the immediate area. As an Elf, she was torn between following the group of orcs – her mortal enemy - and following the new trail, which reeked of undeath. As a Druid, one of Mother Nature’s warriors, the unnaturalness of it couldn’t be ignored. She altered course, following the new path. Tracking through the night, she closed in on the source of the corruption. Alleria had been granted, by the Mother, the ability to shift her form into that of any animal, so it was in the guise of a large predatory cat that she loped stealthily through the dark forest.

A thick mist rolled in from nowhere, blanketing the forest floor and cloaking her surroundings. Before she fully understood the scope of it, it had enveloped her immediate area completely. Her keen senses, which were normally perfectly suited for nocturnal tracking, failed her. The white cat stumbled blindly through the thick haze. When it lifted, and she could see and hear again, it was very quickly clear to the Elven Druid that she was no longer in the Dalelands.

The mist that had surrounded her in the Shadowdale lingered here as well, dissipating by the second. Everything, from the ground cover, the trees, the sky and the very smell of the land was different. Jarringly so. This place was wrong. A shiver ran down her long feline spine. The stench of rot and decay was also more prevalent here. Unsure of what had just happened, Alleria went with the immediately obvious choice – find and kill the Undead.

After a hundred meters or so of scent alone, the sounds of battle rose to join the trail. With stealth no longer needed, Alleria shape-shifted into her favored form – a giant white dire wolf with bright blue eyes. The ritual scarification that covered her skin in Elven form transferred over to her animal appearance as well. It was those strange marks upon her pelt that had saved her from accidents or misunderstandings in the past, as they clearly marked her as a druid. But, she had no way of knowing that the group she was moving towards to aid, had had bloody run ins in this realm with both druids and wolves. The latter plagued the land, on two feet as well as four.

Alleria arrived at the edge of a clearing, a battle laid out before her. At first sight, a group of five or six were fighting a horde of skeletons and shadows. In the air, above them, a sinister man dressed in black and red hovered on a flying Nightmare. Draped across his lap was what looking like a female form in leather armor. Directly beneath the demonic horse, and acting crazed, was a badger the size of a bear.

After assessing the situation for a moment, Alleria charged out from the brush, attacking a trio of skeletal knights with a vicious ferocity. She did a fair job of wearing them down, but ultimately, it was a pair of men with swords and shields that finished them off. Alleria guessed they were either paladin or priest, as they fought with holy damage. The battle was bloody, but well fought and the undead minions were quickly dispatched of. Unfortunately, the group was unable to rescue their comrade from the man on the flying horse. They had flown off into the darkening sky, the mad badger racing after them.

She recognized the two armored men as a Human and Half-Elf. Not far behind them a Human female and two other fair skinned Half-Elves approached. None of them looked particularly in the mood to be making new friends; battered and disturbed by their companion’s abduction. Despite this, she made the decision to reveal herself.

She quickly reversed her decision when an obsidian skinned Half-Elf joined the them. Rankled by the sight of the Drow, even a half-breed, caused her to think better of revealing herself just yet. She slipped back into the woods, skulking away so that she might follow and observe further.

After the run in with the undead, the group walked for nearly two more full days. Along the road, in the middle of nowhere, it was easy for Alleria to follow them closely. She learned a great deal about them, and this strange realm, from snippets of their conversation. The Cleric, and what she assumed was a Bard, seemed to be the most boisterous of the lot, with the former spending a great deal of time bemoaning the lack of ale in the realm. His complaints were often met from the others speaking favorably about the wine of the area.

When they stopped to forage, or make camp, she was better able to get a feel for them. From the sounds of the plans they were making, they were on a quest to rid the land of some great evil. Her assumption was, that it had something to do with the ominous man on the flying horse.

Alleria followed them all the way to a dreary town by the name of Vallaki. When they entered, she continued to follow, but under the cover of a travelling cloak instead. They visited a local church, where they were joined by a young man and woman. Alleria took them for locals, and possibly brother and sister. She finally decided to reveal herself to them. No longer trying to hide herself under cover of the crowd, she made herself more noticeable.

Outside an Inn, the dark-haired Paladin paused and turned to look back and the throng of townsfolk.

"Come out, you have nothing to fear from us." He called out. They had become accustomed to being followed perhaps. As strangers to area, they did stick out like sore thumbs. Despite this, he didn’t seem to know exactly who had been tracking them, he couldn’t pick her out of the crowd.

The Half-Elf Cleric spoke next, "Aye, show yourself. If you be friend, we will drink together and share our tale."

At that, Alleria stepped out of the crowed, pulling back her hood to reveal herself.

"I am Alleria Moonshadow, of the Dalelands. I see from your garb and speech that you are also from Faerun." It was a statement, not a question.

"Aye, fair Elf, we too are strangers to this land, brought here by a strange mist. I am Mason Carpenter, a humble priest of the The Captain of the Waves, Valkur. This here is Dhamon Grim, Paladin of Torm. The human lass with the bow is Baasha, the two other Half-Elves are Keening and Quintis and..." The members of the group nodded as they were introduced. When he went to introduce the half-Drow, he seemed inclined to speak for himself.

"Tallonon Bloodborn." He said with a slight edge as he watched Alleria closely, trying to guess her reaction.

Alleria’s reaction was one of complete non-reaction as she completely ignored the dark-skinned Half-Elf.

Seeing the snub, Dhamon spoke up. "We have traveled with Tallonon since coming to this land. He had proven himself a good and loyal ally."

"Aye, fair-one." Mason addressed her once again. "The rest of us with Elven blood have accepted him. Judge him not by his blood please, but by his actions."

Tallonon seemed completely put off by the She-Elf’s rudeness and stomped off to the door of the Inn, disappearing inside.

Assuming that her acceptance by the group was not contingent on making friends with all of them, she followed the others into the Inn as well. It was there, over mediocre food yet fine wine, that they exchanged tales.

Mason had been right about the lack of ale, but the wine was better than average. The more he consumed, the chummier he got towards her. Despite his drinking, he was pleasant enough, so she took no offense.

The others were more concerned with filling in their new traveling companion about their arrival in Barovia, the quest bestowed by the Vistani Gypsies and all they had learned about the Vampire Lord Strahd.

"The blade I carry is one of the items the Vistani sent us to find." Dhamon explained over a bowl of stew.

"It is supposed to disrupt Strahd’s regeneration, which is rumored to be far superior to that of an average vampire." Tallonon added. Alleria’s attention still on Dhamon though. The Half-Drow scowled and snatched up his drink, brooding over it.

Mason was far too tipsy this time to intervene on behalf of his dark-skinned friend. He was far more intent on finding out the secret to getting Alleria into his bed. An attempt that was going nowhere, as she seemed equally intent on ignoring him. Both she and Dhamon did their best to talk over, and around him.

"We also have the Tome of Strahd. That part was fairly simple." Dhamon dipped his head towards a table in the corner of the common room. Quintis and Keening were chatting up a trio of local girls with loud and no doubt exaggerated tales of their battles. Quintis, seemed to be fairing much better with the ladies than Keening. Though both were handsome enough, Quintis had a roguish air around him.

The Paladin continued, "Quintis has been studying the tome, to see if its contents can be of any use."

Baasha glanced over as well, rolling her eyes as caught sight of the gregarious behavior of her two traveling companions.

Alleria also noticed the two locals that the group had met up with at the church. They were in a heated, hushed discussion in another corner of the large room. Alleria jerked her head in their direction, "What is their part in this?"

"Ahh, yes. Ismark and Ireena. Their father was the Burgomaster of the Village of Barovia. Ireena had garnered the attention of Strahd, and Ismark beseeched us to bring her here, thinking she would be safer here than their little village. It is my understanding though, that there have been several odd occurrences, and attacks on the church since we dropped them off." Dhamon glanced over at the siblings, who were still heatedly debating something. "She wishes to go to Krazk with us, to meet with the Abbot. He wishes her to stay."

Alleria nodded at the information, but as it didn’t appear to directly affect their quest, she steered the conversation back to that topic. "So all that remains is the Holy Symbol?"

"I’d like to show you my holy symbol." Mason said with a bit of a slur and a rakish grin plastered on his rosy cheeked face.

Baasha snickered behind her glass, but Tallonon snorted derisively, apparently having his fill of the conversation. He pushed his chair away from the table loudly and left the common room without another word.

"Correct. We don’t have a lead on the relic itself, but the local priest has suggested we try the Abbey in Krazk. The Abbot is supposed to be a rather...unique and powerful individual. He might have some direction for us." Dhamon said before taking another drink of wine, his mouth dry from all talk.

"We should pay the Burgomaster a visit as well." Baasha commented, pushing the remnants of her strew around in her near empty bowl. She glanced over at the retreating Tallonon, her brow furrowing slightly.

Alleria’s gaze followed Baasha’s, but she said nothing. She just couldn’t bring herself to have anything to do with the white haired Half-Elf. The bad blood between her kind and Drow went too deep. This was compounded by the fact he was a Warlock, and the practice of infernal magics further rubbed her the wrong way.

Their attention was snapped back to their table at the sound of a loud THUMP! Baasha started, dropping her spoon. Mason had passed out, his head hitting the table unceremoniously.

With a sigh, Dhamon put down his glass, "A hand, Baasha?"

The dark-haired huntress gave a mild look of disdain in response to Mason’s over indulgence, but she stood to help none the less. Both she and Dhamon grabbed an arm and hauled the inebriated sailor across the room and up the stairs. Alleria followed, a mild look of amusement on her lips. She did not go upstairs though, instead finding a place to sit at the foot of them. Making herself comfortable, she started her nightly meditations.

Alleria was the first one into the common room for breakfast, and was joined shortly after by Baasha and Dhamon. Halfway through the meal Tallonon came down from the second floor. He looked far less surly than he had the night before. That was until he saw Alleria and his glower returned. The three had finished their morning meal before Mason, Quintis and Keening entered the common room. The trio of Half-Elves looked a little worse for wear, with Mason looking particularly rough around the edges. Keening’s curls were flattened to the side of his head on one side, giving him a comedic look. Grumbling bitterly about the lack of ale, and what sounded like having been bitten by a dog, Mason plunked himself down at a barstool.

The three late arrivals didn’t get a chance to order anything to eat, as they were all interrupted by a racket outside the Inn. The sound of a women in distress carried through the half open windows of the common room. Dhamon and Baasha both went to investigate, while the rest hung back, either waiting by the door or retuning to the bar to finish their morning meal

Mason sidled un to Alleria, who was waiting by the door. "I had the most intriguing dream last night. I was running through the woods at night, under a full moon. I was being chased by pack of wolves. When they caught me, a great she-wolf pinned me to the ground. She changed into a beautiful elf and had her way with me." He gave her a sidelong glance, trying his best to look coy. "Whatever do you think it might mean?"

"I think it means you should not drink so much in the evening. Or, not go into the woods by yourself at night." She replied, dryly, not taking his bait.

Mason laughed good-naturedly. He wasn’t going to accept defeat any time soon. Hearing the voices outside getting louder, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and gestured for Alleria to step outside. Following her, Mason stepped outside as well. Keening and Quintis protested mildly about not getting to finish their breakfast, but trailed along after them.

The scene in the street outside the Inn was tense. A group of city guards, their Captain, Ireena and Ismark were squared off. Flanked by a pair of his men, the guard captain was holding Ireena by the wrist. She was protesting loudly while trying to wrest her arm back. Ismark was shouting at the guards but had not gotten physical yet.

The most disturbing thing about the scene was guard captain’s left arm. It was shriveled and gnarled, completely unnatural looking - perhaps even demonic in origin.

"Valkur deliver me from this tempest of torment!" Mason said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as his dry morning eyes adjusted to the change in light.

Dhamon stepped forward. "Excuse us, good Captain, but that young woman and her brother are under our care." He was polite and calm, his dark green eyes full of determination.

"Mind your own business, outsiders. This doesn’t concern you." The guard captain said with a brutal sneer. He kept his grip firm on Ireena’s arm.

"She’s MY sister! Ismark shouted.

"You idiot. You don’t actually believe that, do you? The guard captain spat back. "She doesn’t look a thing like you!"

"Who cares whose damned sister she is?" Mason shot back. This inconvenience was keeping him from his breakfast and he was cranky. "All of this shouting isn’t going to make a difference either way.

The guardsmen moved in to close ranks around their superior.

"She’s under our protection, so let go of her our we’re going to have a problem." It was Quintis who had spoken up. He normally preferred to remain quiet, being more of a man of action than words.

The rest of the group moved up to stand around Dhamon and Alleria followed suit. The show of solidarity caused the guards to withdraw slightly and the captain let go of Ireena’s wrist. His other hand though, the demonic looking one, was raised up, threatening. With menace in his voice, he said, "You should all leave. Now. While you are still able."

"We were planning on departing this morning. So long as Ireena is not barred from doing so with us, we will be on our way." Dhamon said firmly. His emerald eyes shifted from the captain’s face, to his monstrous arm briefly.

Free from his grip, Ireena moved to stand behind Ismark. Quintis moved in, to where Ireena had been standing, to flank the guard captain. He gave Ireena a quick glance, checking to see that she was okay, before looking back to the threat at hand.

The tension in the air was palpable. Despite having let go of her, the guard captain appeared to have no desire to let her leave. He nodded his head to a pair of guards and they moved in on either side of the brother and sister.

"This can still be solved peacefully." Dhamon said, trying to sound positive, yet firm.

Feeling threatened by Quintis being so close to their leader, the guards moved in closer, twitchy and eager hands gripping their pike’s tightly. One of the guards overstepped and bumped into his captain, who in turn stumbled a step forward. With that demonic hand of his, he reached out for the closest thing to steady himself. That, unfortunately, was Dhamon’s raised shield. Mistaking his stumbling for a lunge, the city guards lowered their pikes, stepping forward to attack.

Dhamon, Quintis and Mason did the same, drawing weapons. Tallonon began to incant and Alleria parted the small crowed by shapeshifting into the large dire wolf. Somewhere off to the side, Keening drew – a small hand drum – and began to tap out a warm up tune.

The scene was about to dissolve into a full-on skirmish when an imperious voice called out above the crowd.

"Izsak, what is the meaning of this. I will not have such thuggish violence in my streets, especially with the Fire Festival so soon. Your men should be overseeing preparations, not harassing the good people of Vallaki and their guests."

The voice belonged to an overstuffed looking man dressed in fine garb on a grey stallion. He had on the most ridicules looking oversized hat with a red feather sticking from it. Beside him, on a light brown horse, was a woman dressed in an equal level of finery. She didn’t speak, but the look on her face would suggest she was extremely put off by the disruption.

"But, Sir." Izsak was reluctant to have his men put down their arms. "The outsiders. They will ruin your festival.

"Nonsense." Said the Burgomaster. "They will love it, just like the townsfolk. Tell your men to lower their weapons. We wouldn’t want to scare off our guests, would we?"

Izsak sneered at Dhamon with pure hatred in his eyes.

Working on the assumption, as he had not yet introduced himself, Dhamon looked past the guards and took a step towards the man on the horse.

"Burgomaster, while we would love to attend your festival, we have urgent business in Krazk." The Paladin explained and then added, "At the Abbey." He hoped mentioning the Abbot would add weight to his request to be excused.

The large man’s unruly eyebrows raised up high at the mention of the Abbey. "Oh, well, in that case, we shouldn’t keep you any longer. Please, Izsak, have your guards step aside so that our new friends may depart."

Izsak took a step back and waved off his guards to do the same. "This isn’t over..." he hissed at Dhamon through gritted teeth.

As the crowed started to disperse and the guards move off, the Burgomaster turned his horse and he and his wife departed as well.

"Well, now, that was exciting." Mason commented to no one in particular and idly reached up to ruffle the thick fur of the dire wolf’s neck.

It was either the overly familiar act of stroking her fur, or perhaps being treated like a common pet, that caused the large lupine to snap at Mason. She caught part of his hand in her mouth, drawing blood.

"Omberlee’s tits!" Mason exclaimed as he jerked his bloody hand back. Cradling his arm gingerly, he eyed the she-wolf warily. "I hope, where you are from, that is not considered foreplay." The priest added, his expression mellowing as he healed the injury to his hand. Behind him, Baasha and Keening sniggered and the latter handed over a gold piece to the former.

Tallonon spoke up, "We should get a start on our journey. We have a lot of ground to cover and I would like to put distance between us and that Izsak fellow."

"Agreed." Said Dhamon as he put his sword away and slung his shield over his back. He moved over to where Ireena and Ismark were standing, talking quietly to them as they made their way to the gate.

Quintis and Keening ducked back into the Inn to grab their packs and something for the road while Mason and Baasha followed along after Dhamon and Tallonon. The dire wolf cast its bright blue eyes over at Izsak, studying that demonic arm of his before trotting off to catch up to the group.

The trek to Krazk was, thankfully, without incident. Without attack, at least. Discussions shifted back and forth between the quest at hand, the first thing each would do when they returned home and speculation on the origins of Izsak’s disfigured arm. There had also been hushed conversations between Ireena and Ismark, of which Dhamon joined in on occasion, but Alleria disregarded for the most part.

The first night of their journey had them making camp on the side of the road. They were half way to Krazk, the Abbey and hopefully answers. Alleria was surprised, but grateful, that one of her new friends had some skill in cooking. She and Baasha trapped a handful of game birds which Quintis turned into the best meal Alleria had had in a very long time.

Keening, who had no skills when it came to cooking, camp making or anything particularly useful when it came to marching through the countryside, earned his keep by entertaining those who could. His long blond curls bobbed around his face as he played and sang emphatically. It was a little ditty about a naive princess oh-so fair and a handsome, yet shameless, Elven adventurer. Some of the lyrics made Ireena blush and Quintis joked it could be about his parents, had his mother been a princess and not the daughter of a traveling merchant.

After a fine meal and dubious entertainment, they decided on a watch order and bedded down for the night. Alleria had offered to keep watch the first half of the night, and trance the second part. It meant that the others could get more sleep. One by one, the others drifted off. All but Mason.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Mason asked, scooting up beside Alleria by the edge of the fire.

"Only a copper?" she asked with a slight smile. "I would have thought with your dogged determination; you would find me worth more than a copper."

"Aye, maybe I did, but then you bit me." He jibed.

"You were petting me, like a common dog. You touched me, without permission. You deserved it." She explained, sounding completely matter-of-factly. "Get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow." She stole a sidelong glance or two, but in the flickering flames of the fire his features looked harsh and unappealing, a stark contrast from their usual rugged handsomeness.

"Was that it? I’m more than happy to play the dog, if you want to do the petting instead." He tilted his head in her direction in offering.

She reached out to push him away. "You are more of a mule, than a dog, Mason." Her tone was light and teasing.

"You might be right there..." he said with a smirk. He could see she wouldn’t be giving in to him tonight though, and rather than get bitten again, he returned to his bedroll to sleep.

She watched his still body for a while and then turned her attention back to their surroundings, on guard for trouble.

The second day of walking was much like the first, uneventful and full of chatter. Keening entertained them with a series of songs and limericks throughout the better part of the day. The singing stopped when he was distracted by Mason and Quintis’ heated discussion on where to find the best Ale on the Sword Coast.

Tallonon and Dhamon were deep in discussion about where they should try next, if the Abbott turned out to be of no help. Alleria, who was walking behind them, was content to listen without contributing. She hadn’t been in Barovia long enough to know of the places that might be of help, for now, it was best that she listened and learned.

At times, when the two planners would fall silent in thought, she would catch Mason’s voice behind her. She was loathed to admit it, but her mind had wandered occasionally to him since their brief talk last night.

"He’s been like that since the get go."

Alleria turned to see Baasha. The brunette had fallen into step beside her, her bow slung over her shoulder while her hands worked over an arrow, checking it for flaws. She jerked her head towards the trio of Half-Elves.

"You’d never know we’d been ripped from our homeland against our will and lasted with killing a nigh immortal bloodsucking despot." She said in a dry, humorless tone. "No, you’d think we were out on some pre-wedding oat sowing romp."

"Ah." Alleria said with a nod of understanding. It didn’t matter to her what they did during down time, so long as she could count on them during a fight.