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Ravenloft

“Why do I find myself doubting that where we are headed is any less safe then where were are fleeing, Andrei?" She whispered the question, but it still sounded frighteningly loud to his ears.

“Is anywhere safe?” Andrei whispered back , latching the hidden door and shooting two stout bolts. “But there is food there, and fuel for the lamps. Elrick...”. He swallowed hard at the name, choking back tears that threatened to well up. “We had considered fetching stores from the guest house, come the dawn.” Satisfied that the door was solidly barred, he rested his palm against the tough brick of the tunnel and cautiously began walking. “It will be safe.”

The last was more prayer than known fact. The guest house had to be safer. It had to be, or he was dead and Lady Ireena was worse than that. But this was no time to dwell on such thoughts. He focused instead on walking carefully, sliding his boots along the unseen floor, feeling for obstacles. It was less than a quarter mile, he knew. But in the darkness that distance was an eternity.

“If matters are this bad here,” Ireena wondered aloud, “I wonder how the rest of the village is fairing..."

“Better, perhaps,” Andrei observed. “The Beast seeks...”. He bit off his comment. She well knew what Strahd the Devil sought, better than he did. “What he seeks is not in the village. If they keep their doors barred, and hearten not to the whispers of the dead, they should be well enough.”

An eternity passed before Andrei felt secure enough to light the torch in his belt. Firelight kept and flickered, making the footing uncertain and the darkness beyond deeper, but the flame gave a measure of comfort. If anything found them, he would at least be able to see it’s approach.

Finally, they found the door. It opened silently, revealing the cellar beyond. He stepped in, sword drawn and nerves taught. Nothing erupted from the darkness, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he closed and barred the hidden door. “Would you light a lamp, my lady?” he asked. “It will make it easier to ensure the house is safe.”
 
I don't intend to be anywhere near you, or your fucking mom when the Devil comes to take you.

Long before he even knows you are here.

Even when she sought answers, only more questions emerged. Who was this Devil, and why would he want either her or her sister? Why had they been banished from Barovia?

Esperanza mulled over the vampire's words as she tore through Arik's collection of rags. Once she'd found the two closest to clean, she took a long swig of wine, and soaked one rag. That rag cleaned the wound, and she hissed against the sting of the alcohol. Once she'd endured as much burning as she could stand, she wrapped the wound in the other rag.

Whatever the answers were, it didn't matter. Not now. They needed to get to safety, and the Vine was no longer safe. Ishmark offered up his guest house, and it seemed a better idea than waiting around this tavern for death to find them. She turned towards Xavier, greeting his warm smile with a determined nod. "I will of course go where you go."

"Then let us get out of here before the vampires regroup. Which way are we headed, Ishmark?"
 
Ismark had stumbled down the steps with a worn looking brown leather pack slung over his drenching wet shoulders. His bleary gaze was focused towards the front wall of the tavern. But not because he was admiring the architecture or the vast array of barricaded windows. It was the low moaning sounds of unfortunate souls cursed to walk the lands as shambling rotting corpses that drew his attention. From the sound of it they were closing in, surrounding the beleaguered tavern and those who still remained within.

Ismark let out a drunken belch as he wiped his hand across his soaked forehead, pushing the meager amounts of his black hair into further disarray. "Uh." Ismark grunted as he looked across towards Esperanza as she raised the question. "Right out into that shite." He gestured with a absent toss of his hand towards the front door. The sound of some unseen horror pounded against one of the boarded up windows, rattling the slabs of wood secured across its interior.

"The guest house.." He paused with cheeky grin towards Teo. "Or my love shack as some of the wenches around here know it is just a short run away." The scratch of a claw, followed by a deep and eerie groan came from the front door. "Once we get out into the square we turn south and it ain't far from there." His hand slapped around his vest briefly before digging into the front pocket of his trousers. "I got the key to the front door. Place should be safe, ain't nothing that roams these lands at night interested in an empty house."

"There's a hidden tunnel in the cellar, leads to the manor, I can get you lasses to your mom from there. If she's still alive." He muttered the last bit under his breath as he turned his gaze between the twins. A fist clubbed against the front door as Ismark weaved his way drunkenly through the others until he was standing before Bucren. "I'll be needing my sword back before we run out into the night like fools." His hand extended forward, waiting for Bucren to deposit the handle into his waiting grasp.
 
Xavier watched Esperanza as she cleaned her wound, he would have preferred to have her let it bleed a bit more to get any infection out of it but he didn't doubt the warnings of the others. He had been less concerned about the wound than the near miss the arrow had represented. While there had always been the possibility of professional kidnappers coming for the Sergovia family's jewel, most of his protecting had been against overly affectionate would be lovers, most of whom were rather drunk. The arrow was a reminder that these creatures were ruthless, clever, and deadly. He took the soiled rag, soaked with wine and her blood and thinking of the vampires as hunters following a blood trail had a thought. Turning to Bucren he asked. "Do you think scraps of this tied to a well placed arrow could confuse our hunters?" They would need every advantage they could get out there. (If Bucren agreed he will cut the cloth into small strips to tie to arrows.)

Listening carefully to Ishmark's directions he pulled his sword out once again. He could feel the surge of adrenaline kicking in once again and hoped it would be enough. He watched as Ishmark asked for his sword back, he felt more comfortable with Bucren since he trusted him more though now that Ishmark seemed to have cleared his head the two would have to settle it between them. He then turned to the group more collectively but addressed the ladies. "Try to stay together if you can, I can assure you Esperanza knows how to use her blade." He hoped it would inspire some small confidence in them, but he was astute enough to realize they cared little for his words. He then focused on the gypsy. "You may well be safer here if they follow us, but stay or go, now is the time to decide."

Moving towards the door he asked whichever ended up with the silver sword. "Stay with the girls, keep the hunters from them, I will clear us a path" It pained him to not stay close to Esperanza but he knew he was best suited to clearing the way and he would need room to swing his sword like scythe and couldn't do that and watch his charge. He took a few broad swings with his sword to limber up his tired and stiff arm. Not being an actual soldier, Xavier had never been in a large battle. He had needed to fight his way through some angry mobs and some large raids so he knew somewhat of what to expect. In some ways he looked forward to having a clear cut purpose instead of being confused and helpless. "Is anyone not ready?" He asked loudly as he prepared to kick open the door and begin cutting their path.
 
Ireena nearly breathed out a sigh of relief when the entrance to the guest house was finally reached. Naturally, Andrei went in first, ready to smite anything that may be lurking. It was far more peaceful here than it was back at her home. The wolves were far in the distances. The scratching of nails on the windows was nowhere to be heard. At her guardian's request, the lamps were lit. A warm light glow was cast upon their untouched surroundings. The cellar walls were lined in the same brick that made up the tunnel. Fermentation casks here and there that were not quite ready. A table or two with dusty goblets upon them and equally dusty silver platters. A portable lantern was lit and grabbed by the handle should they wish to explore the rest of the home or lay low in the cellar, for now. "All we have to do is survive until sun up."

Without realizing it a hand rubbed a knot out of the spot where her vampiric suitor sampled her blood. The hair falling back into place as eyes roamed their surroundings and ear listened for what may lay beyond the cellar door and into the remainder of the house. Where Andrei went, she would follow. There was no questioning the matter. Despite their belief that this house was untouched, one did not wish to be caught off guard in these times, for it could very easily cost you your life. Ireena knew well that her brother frequented this guest house with his many female consorts. "If Ismark were not a the tavern, this is where he would go next." It was a simple observation. Often she found herself wanting to wring his neck, but she did love him; almost as much as she loved her father. "Shall we head upstairs? Do you not think that the light will attract attention?"
 
The Burgomasters Guest House had seen many visitors come and go over the course of it's existence. It's doors would always be open for those that came to challenge the Devil in Castle Ravenloft. The long, rectangular, and sturdy stone house possessed enough room to sleep ten comfortably within the confines of its four bedrooms up on the second floor. From its core, within the living room was a great fireplace that was more then capable of keeping everyone warm and cozy, even in the dead of winter. A pair of soft and supple leather sofas were arranged about the fireplace. Warming blankets were always nearby along with enough fluffy pillows to keep even the most ardent of pillow hogs content. The nearby study offered a place of solitude where its guests might find some peace and quiet from the hell that surrounded the home. And the kitchen, with its massive iron stove, offered up enough amenities to make a chef envious.

But those times had faded away, mostly.

Though it had fallen into neglect, the Burgomaster would never deny its comforts to those who came into these lands to challenge Strahd. He pinned his hopes on each and every soul that ventured to his estate and claimed they would rid the land of the vampires evil. He would gladly give them the key to his guesthouse. The kitchen would be stocked adequately with what fresh food that the Burgomaster could offer. There they could stay, collect themselves, and find sanctuary from the night when no one else would offer it.

Though visitors were a rarity in Baroiva, nearly every soul that had ever stayed under the clay shingles of its steep roof had come to meet their end. More then a few had perished right inside its very walls. The lucky ones remained dead.

With every failure the guesthouse grew darker and more ominous to the superstitious populace of Barovia. Between themselves they called it cursed, hexed, and believed it to be haunted. That latter rumor was supported on more then one occasion by those who stayed the night there. They spoke of unsettling apparitions, strange phenomena, and eerie auras, but nothing that ever openly possessed any malice. Over the years many of the natives had come to give it a name. "The House of the Hunted."
 
Katya pursed her lips, watching the interaction between gypsy girl, Teo, and Bucren. She tended to agree with him, now was not the time for big introductions or lingering around here. At the door something was making these horrible groans, scratching at the door. It didn't sound like the wolves. Nor did it sound like a vampire. What other horrors did this place hold for them. She had her knife out, rolling her wrist warm it up. Right now her attention was on the locals, Bucren, Teo and Ishmark, watching them. Especially the former two, because the latter's drunkenness wasn't particularly faith inspiring. Also, just a moment ago he'd been ready to throw both Esperanza and her to the 'Devil'. So far Bucren and Teo had been geared just as much as they were towards surviving the night. She was out of her depth here, but they.. They knew far better how to survive this place then she could ever guess. And she would have to rely on her cunning most. "As much as I detest the sound of a 'love shack'. Let's just go."

Flipping her knife in the air repeatedly, absentmindedly catching it and flipping it back again, she slowly moved towards the door but also out of the way. So that whatever was behind the door wouldn't see her right away once the door opened. After they'd dealt with whatever awaited them out there, they would have to move fast. Fast she could do. "Shouldn't we have someone who knows the way in front?" She suggested. "And perhaps the person with the key."
 
Bucren handed the silver branded sword to Ismark hilt first. “Try not to forget it next time.” He muttered to the man, hoping not to see any traces of intoxication in the man’s first. They were going to need him and every sword they could get, even as hard blows began to rain against the doorway. Well so much for that way. Once more he brought his bow to the forefront, an arrow nocked but held casually at the ready. Something ugly, and with a horrid stench, was beyond that front door now. But Ismark’s more serious and less pessimistic demeanor loaned some steely resolve to their case.

He considered Xavier’s first query about the soaked rag and shooting off a decoy. He honestly never tried it before but the theory seemed sound. They did leave sacrificial offerings like full-on animals and beasts, either as a lure or some sort of tribute to avoid scrutiny on their own homes. Would they be fooled by the draw of any amount of blood? “No harm in trying. Lace one up, we’ll see how it goes out there.” Bucren assented, handing over one feathered shaft for it. He didn’t know how it was going to turn out so he couldn’t make any further planning beyond a promise to try.

The others settled up their own decision making. There was no hope in staying. And numbers provided greater security. They were used to picking off ones and twos here. A strong party like theirs would be harder to overcome but the vampire sounded like she had a grudge against them. He didn’t give an answer to Xavier’s query but his response was written well enough in the determination of Bucren’s expression. “I know the way too, in case anyone should get lost. But Ismark, you with your fancy blade should be at the front, while I’ll pick up the rear. I’m sure no one will get lost between us.” He threw out there, if anyone should care for it, ready whenever the rest were. There would be a quick, ugly fight at this doorway but once they punched their way through, it would be a mad dash to the love shack, as Ismark so eloquently put it.

Not that he would recommend it. That place had an ill-repute and Bucren had gleamed that during his own brief stay there, many years ago. But it was the better choice, especially if this secret tunnel in the cellar that Ismark mentioned proved to be true. When all seemed ready, he stood several paces back in a direct line from the doorway, bringing his bow up and stringing his arrow, drawing back alongside his lower jaw.
 
“The house is usually kept shuttered,” Andrei replied. “When not in use, at least - a precaution against vandalism. Still, you are right. We should be cautious.”

Drawing his sword, he eyed the stairs with a nagging feeling of hesitancy. It was tempting to remain in the cellar until dawn. Just bar the door, and further barricade the secret entrance, and wait until he could see light seeping under the cracks. But if the house was occupied, whether by vagrants or by the undead, they needed to know. And so he bit his lip and started up the stairs, cringing inwardly at each creak of the steps.

The kitchen proved to be empty. Empty, and with windows shuttered fast and barred. The rest of the first floor was equally devoid of life and movement, and a slight but growing sense of relief built in his stomach as he gently lowered the crossbar of the front door into place. “One more floor, my lady,” he murmured. “But We May have found you a place of refuge. For the rest of the night, at least.”
 
Ismark let his gaze linger on the so called fancy blade in his hand as he listened to the others around him. Bucren was right, he knew the way and it was obvious he should lead. But the thought didn't thrill him. As he shifted his paling knuckles around the handle of his sword he lifted his eyes over towards Xavier. "I take it your good with that spear, probably better then I am with my sword." He gave the burly outlander an appraising look over as if he was considering the man as a new guard for the manor.

His teeth ground together as looked towards the door and stepped towards it, stopping just along its side. Practically in the same place that Pias had stood not so long ago. In fact the gypsy lads blood laid in a stain of crimson upon the floorboards of the threshold of the Vine. Ismark paid the ill omen little regard as he stood alongside the door as it buckled under the onslaught of the handful of zombies gathered just beyond it. His bleary eyes wandered from window to window where the dead could be heard trying to scratch, claw, and rip their way in to get at the warm flesh they so desired to devour.

Finally he took a steadying deep breath as he began to unbolt and unfasten a few of the doors locks. His eyes flicked over the group. Mostly strangers stuck in a strange land, but he was glad that there were a few familiar faces mixed in with those assembled. He bit his bottom lip hard in an effort to push himself as close to sobriety as he could as he looked upon Bucren. "When I open the door I'm gonna step aside. You put an arrow in the head of the first one you see." He leveled his gaze then on Xavier. "After that, you come in with your spear and drive em back. Me and you will exit at the same time."

Then he looked towards the ladies as he placed his free hand on the heavy wooden beam that kept the door from being forced open. "You lass's fall in behind us. Aim for their heads, bash their fucking skulls in. Once we're in the clear we make a run for it." Ismark took a one last deep breath. "Keep close, she might still be out there, hoping to catch one of us astray. Now let's get the hell out of here."

Ismark lifted the beam away from the door and flung it open revealing the decomposed, bloated, and rotting visage of what must of once been a villager. His eyes were all but sunken in, burned into blackness as the monstrosity he had become groaned out in hunger. Other shapes shambled about in the fringes of the fog beyond the zombie, their moans and growls forming into an unintelligible chorus of horror.
 
Teo flicked the knife casually in the air as plans were made about her without a care for what she had to say. She gritted her teeth and and her other hand tightened its grip on her second dagger, frustrated with the company she now found herself in. She had forgotten how annoying outsiders could be. Barovia was a place where very little change - constant death constantly loomed and the village persisted as it was, undisturbed by the world around it. A vampiress singling out a girl with all the hatred and venom it could muster was no small thing, and Teo was annoyed that she seemed to be the only one concerned by this information. Something didn't add up about Esperanza. That unsettles her to no end.

For now, though, Teo was stuck with the whims of the group. Her friends had abandoned her and the tavern was clearly compromised. So she would follow them as long as was practical. Perhaps she's rejoin her peers when opportunity struck. Perhaps she'd use these strangers for her own ends. One thing was certain - they were going to need Teo at some point and she was going get her fucking answers. Bucren might have been from Barovia, but he was no gypsy. Teo knew secrets about the area that none of them would possibly do without.

She steeled herself as the door was opened. Bucren let loose his arrow and the group eventually rushed out of the door, Ismark leading the way towards his shack. Teo stayed in the back, with Katya and Esperanza, though she made sure to keep as much distance as she could from the girl who had managed to piss off a vampire. She didn't particularly trust either Katya or Esperanza, but she figured it was better to stick closer to the one less likely to have a vampiress on her. As the group proceeded forward, Teo did her best to send out flicks of her daggers towards the skulls of whatever horrors encroached upon them.
 
Ireena could feel the weariness in her bones. The night had been filled with terror and the adrenaline that fueled any human to survive. The lack of sleep was weighing down upon her but was neglected to follow her protector through their new and unexplored surroundings. The woman was no stranger to the surroundings, though she found herself wondering the last time she had occupied these desolate walls. The thought almost made her laugh. That damned brother of hers loved to bring women here and the last time she visited the moans of his toy, at the time, could be heard as clear at church bells and sounded like a wounded bear.

She recalled cooking up something for Leo in this very kitchen. A hand reached out to skate across the cold, smooth, and dusty surface of a nearby counter. Sir Leo deGrey, her one and only. In that moment and hand idly cupped at the spot upon her neck that was sampled by Strahd, himself. From the lower floor to the upstairs, it proved a breath of fresh air to not have come across anything life-threatening, as of yet. Upon reaching the first floor her feet walked her over to one of the rooms by natural instinct. The moonlight peeking through the cracks between the boards was enough to make out the furnishings of the room.

Here it was. Here is where Leo graced her with the gift of their precious twin daughters. The hours of love exchanged were the most heartfelt moments of passion that she had ever experienced in her life. No man in the forlorn town of Barovia possessed the kind and honorable demeanor that the father of her children possessed. Upon never returning, no male held the spark to dull Leo's absence and quell the ache of missing her baby girls. After reliving the memories of Leo once more, she followed in the footsteps of Andrei. "We could both use the rest, Andrei."
 
Xavier's confidence was shook by Ishmark's instructions. He had assumed he was fighting the living and had chosen to fight with a sword, he had nearly forgotten the spear he had used as a staff on the trip here. He sheathed his sword, somewhat reluctantly but opted to follow the local knowledge over his own instinct. He had been so wrong about so many things here in Barovia and he just couldn't afford to be wrong again. He hefted the spear, feeling the stout staff, it wasn't his preferred weapon but it made sense. It would be a bit clumsy in the doorway but once outside he would have more room to work with it.

He took a last look at his compatriots, such an eclectic mix of souls, he wished there was more trust or even a hint of camaraderie but a base impulse for self preservation was about all they had in common. It would have to do, he thought to himself as he gave Esperanza one last look, hoping it wasn't the last time he saw her truly alive. It was against odds that all of them would survive this night, perhaps even that any of them would. He shook that thought from his head, thoughts could be deadly at such times and he couldn't afford to be anything but positive that they would live. He had to keep the faith.

He nodded to Ishmark's plan and stood clear of the door, spear held in both hands, more like a staff than a spear. He noted well what he said about bashing skulls as the smell of whatever horror seeped through the door. A moment of disgust took hold of him at the first sight of the zombies but he quickly recovered. He waited for Bucren's first arrow to hit home. He took a deep breath of foul air and held the spear at arms length, eager to keep the undead horrors as far from him as possible. He had to hold it at a diagonal to get through the doorway but rushed through with all his might. He cleared the doorway but merely pushed them back, if they could be killed it would take more than that to do it. He left Ishmark to head towards his love shack as he stepped to the side to get room to swing his spread like a cudgel, allowing the others to exit behind him and follow Ishmark. He brought the oak shaft down heavily upon one head, crushing the skull and watching with satisfaction as the creature buckled and feel lifeless to the ground. If he could kill one he could kill more. He resisted the temptation to check on Esperanza, he would best serve her by helping to keep the path clear.
 
The moment the door was opened, Bucren let fly the arrow he had pulled back. At this range there was no way of missing and the bow resounded with a satisfying twang, before followed by a sickening thud as it punched through the eye of the first ghoul through the door. The others, Ishmark and Xavier, proceeded to get stuck in with the bastards, followed by the trio of ladies. Bucren notched another arrow to the string and quickly followed. If death ever had a song, it was the sounds coming from without. Bucren was last out of the tavern, his nostrils immediately assailed by the horrible stench. He was right behind Teo the gypsy, though while they rushed up the street, Bucren spun to face whatever was down the other way.

Another satisfying twang resonated in his ear as he let fly another shaft at a distance target. Then he spun on his boot, leapt over the bodies of the slain ghouls, and ran to catch up with the others. He could still hear that symphony of death behind him, almost as if they were mere inches from seizing his ankle or shoulder and dragging him back. He needed to focus. Nock, draw, aim, and shoot. He repeated it to himself in a whisper. Another twang, another voice removed from the orchestra of decay and foulness. But they were far too many of them for him to hold off. He hoped Ishmark got them to the shack rather quickly, though he wasn’t in too much hurry for that place. It was cursed by all accounts.

“They are catching up. Move it.” He called to the others, bringing up the rear, bow in hand as he followed. They might have an issue though when they got to the place in question. What if Ishmark had to unlock the door? That might take precious seconds they didn’t have. And then filing through the doorway, one by one, which might cause them to bunch up. “Shit.” Bucren hissed, reaching for his quiver as he eyed down the oncoming rush of zombies. His hand pulled out the next shaft and it was the one with the bloody rags of Esperanza’s blood wrapped around the arrowhead.

Time to see if Xavier’s plan worked. The man was decisive and possessed good judgement so Bucren was content to try it. He nocked it to his bow, aimed not at the heads of their pursuers, but trying to line up between them. Another twang and the projectile leapt forward, striking not a single zombie, hitting the side of a home with a thud. Hopefully the scent of blood bought them a few more seconds. He caught up again behind Teo, the last in line, pushing forward with the others. What a day this has been turning out to be.
 
Esperanza made her way through the streets of Barovia, staying close to the others. As effective as her blade was against the vampires, it wouldn’t do anything against the mindless dead that lurnched for them now. Decayed flesh and protruding bones proved a great defense against the slim blade. A blunt weapon would have been ideal, but lacking that, all she had was fists and elbows and knees and feet, kicking and punch and striking away at the nearby foes.

They’d be safe once they got to the guest house. She had to believe they’d be safer there, had to believe there was some point to all of this, some point besides ending up a meal for the damned creatures that roamed the city at night. So that determined stayed her fear, drove forward. At least the arrow Bucren loose drew some of the mob.

There, that was the manor, wasn’t it? It had to be, because her well of hope was dwindling. No wonder her mother had sent her and her sister far away from this wretched place! And what a fool she’d been to come back, drawn back by dark, indiscernible dreams that hinted at a family. If she survived the night, she’d be a better daughter. Marry as her parents wanted, and uplift her entire family. She wouldn’t rebel any longer, wouldn’t fight their wishes.

If she survived the night.

The manor loomed above, its dark exterior betraying the hope she’d placed upon it. Structurally, it seemed in decent shape, but worn and neglected. Whatever, she certainly couldn’t be picky now. Except…

“Is there some light within?” She asked, voice scarcely a whisper. One of the windows seemed to glow, warm and inviting, but the implications chilled her. “Is there already someone there?”
 
“I could have used the rest for many nights now, my lady,” Andrei replied without thinking. He regretted it instantly, mortified that she might think he was complaining. Or worse, that she might feel responsible or what had happened. “But,” he added quickly, “I have been fortunate enough to be able to sleep during the day.” Most days. Well, some days. When the Burgomeister’s dwindling Guard wasn’t required to make an appearance to keep a semblance of order in the accursed town.

“A bit of rest would be welcome, though. And this room appears secure enough.” He made no comment on the portrait of Sir Leo DeGray, nor on the pain that flickered across Lady Ireena’s features. It wasn’t his place to speak - he’d loved the great man like a second father, but he knew she had loved him far more deeply.

Shaking his head, Andrei sought refuge from painful memory in action. He’d left his spear in the tunnel (in Elrick), but his scabbarded sword served to beat the dust from the bed. It exploded upwards in a thin cloud, making him cough and reminding him how fortunate he had been to be trained as a guard instead of a household servant. “Get some rest, my lady.”

Her disapproving stare drew a laugh that was quite against his will. “And I will as well,” he assured her, dragging an overstuffed armchair across the floor. “But,” he continued, shoving it against the door, “I think I can still fulfill my duty as I do.”

Just then, a sound chilled his blood. A small, simple sound. The sound of a hand trying the locked and barred front door. “I pray you, my lady,” he hissed, voice barely above a whisper, “as you value your life, be silent.”
 
It was a all one chaotic storm to Ismark. His heart raced at a pace that had him believing that it could burst out of his chest as his short legs carried his portly body through the misty dark streets of Barovia. South, it was an easy enough direction to find, he knew his way blindfolded through the handful of worn cobblestone roads that crisscrossed the town. But he almost found himself running north for a moment as the decayed denizens that awaited them outside of the Vine swarmed in on them. One glance at the dark and foreboding shape of the castle that hovered over the town to the north had him correcting his course in an instant.

Beads of alcohol infused sweat beaded across his brow. He could feel the claws of night closing in for the kill. But fate had granted him company on this reckless venture. Company that was far better equipped and trained with the tools of war then he was. Plus they were far more sober then he was, though the terror of it all seemed to send a surge of adrenalin through his veins that granted him a boost of clarity and coordination that was much needed. His bloodshot eyes found that flicker of light at Esperanza's softly spoken mention of the glow from the interior of the guest house. For a moment his heart skipped a beat. No one, at least not any locals besides himself would ever consider setting foot in that place unless they had absolutely no other choice.

Ragged breaths that led to labored heavy words ushered from his panting lips as he barreled towards the front door. "Your guess is as good as mine." His words exploded into a grunt as the mans heavy shoulder bore into the stout front door and rattled it. "Key, key, where's the fucking key!" He exclaimed as he leaned his weary weight against the face of the wooden door while his fingers fumbled in his pockets. "Got it!" He shouted triumphantly as his fingers produced a single rounded key of brass from a pocket of his unbuttoned vest. His fingers pushed the key into the lock, the sound of it unclasping the bolt helped to form a sigh of relief. And then he turned the handle.

"Shit and bloody fucking shit!" Ismark cursed to the dark clouds that blanketed the moonlit skies. "It's fucking barred, it's never barred!" The meat of his fist banged on the door. "Open the damn door!" Ismark bellowed out as the sound of their pursuers that had fallen behind began to draw closer and closer to catching up with their quarry.
 
Despite himself, Andrei jumped when someone - or something - started hammering at the door. He reached for his dagger, only to find it gone. Panic flames through him for an instant, before he recalled that he’d given it to Lady Ireena. So, drawing a deep breath, he drew his sword instead. With luck, whatever it was that had found them could be slain by honest steel.

“Open the damn door!"

“Ismark?” he breathed, hardly daring to believe what he’d heard. And then, as he heard that familiar voice swearing, he kicked the chair aside and tore open the bedroom door. “Ismark!” he laughed, before stopping himself from tearing open the door. Instead he shot open the peephole, just in time to see the man’s familiar features as he raised his fist again.

Slamming the peephole, he raised the bar and tore the door open. “Come in, quickly!” he exclaimed, standing aside. “And... who is with you? The help you sought?”
 
Ireena's heart raced and pounded beneath her bosom at the persistent banging at the door. For a moment she felt as though she was hallucinating when the voice shouted from the other side. "It can not be?" Of all the people to survive this night, she was prepared to be saddened down the line when hearing for her brother's death, but to hear him genuinely shocked her. "Brother?!" Thankfully Andrei was quicker than she was to get to the door. Shock kept her grounded where she stood. When the door was opened, she was surprised to see, not only her brother but others as well.

"Quickly!" Ireena had to take a seat. The adrenaline that consumed her body up until now seemed to drain the energy. It felt as though this was the first time in a while that she could breathe a sigh of relief. "Brother... who have you brought with you?" It would have been ill-timed to ask her brother if he was back at this particular place to enjoy carnal pleasures as he always had before. Given a moment to look at the girls, she found herself looking just a tad longer than she had intended. She had to force herself to look somewhere else. They looked so much... but no. It couldn't be. Her daughters were just as long gone as her precious Leon. "We should be safe here, for now," she sighed.

Her body was regretting not having rested when her protector had encouraged her to do so. Head reeling lightly, causing her eyes to close to still her thoughts and relax her body. "I am surprised, though happy to see you alive, brother," though she sighed, it was not meant as exaggeration with her words.
 
Wide and hysterical eyes greeted Andrei and Ireena, while ruby red cheeks were flushed from the strain of that short desperate dash from the Vine to the Guest House, yes, portly Ismark was quite out of shape. But he still had enough gas in the proverbial tank to let his deep booming voice rise up over the din of groaning zombies that were closing in. "Get in, get in!" He ordered, spittle flying from his puffy lips as he turned to beckon his guests inward through the door.

The fear that was held in his eyes was replaced with abject horror no sooner then he had went to grasp for Esperanza arm and force her through the door. Whatever drunken rage strength Ismark may have possessed fell away, leaving his stubby grasping fingers to falter and fall away from their efforts to propel Esperanza forward. A ghostly sheen claimed the mans face, washing away the booze laden red from his features and leaving it a blank canvas of white terror as he stared outward into the fog.

"Go! Go!" His strength swiftly returned with a purpose as he continued to stare slack jawed out at the tragedy unfolding within the streets.

From the roof of a building across the way she descended like a spider, pale and albino as the moon was full. Her face was framed by the night itself, deep flowing locks of hair that held no hint of warmth. Her sultry gown a deep shade of crimson and those mesmerizing red eyes were set upon Xavier who had strayed to far back from the group in his efforts to keep the horde of flesh craving zombies at bay. But she was not alone as the mists began to swirl and thicken around Xavier's feet the exotic red head, who was still missing one eye drifted out of the darkness to cut off the warriors retreat. With but a glance back towards the group that was being ushered into the manor, Xavier turned to face his fate.

The grey depths of the fog rose and gathered about them, quickly concealing his plight from sight, but the mans fierce battle cry could be heard rising to challenge the vampiric maidens. His cry carried on long after his lips had fell silent, echoing across the valley as a half dozen or more zombies shuffled through the thicket of fog, intent on making a meal out of any that dared to linger outside.
 
Teo was one of the first to rush in the door, perhaps the first time in a while anyway had been desperate enough to clamor for this cursed place. The reputation of the place was beyond doubt - staying here was begging for an early expiration date. Yes herself had never put much credence in the idea. The people who shuffled in and out of the town were never locals, they were the foolhardy adventurers looking to add a number to the legion of Strahd. The fact that residents of the guesthouse never survived was more a reflection of their purpose in Barovia, rather than anything to do with the building.

When she turned from within the confines of the guesthouse, she saw Xavier turn to face a horde that he had even less a chance of escaping than slaughtering. Tea smiled faintly; a foolhardy heroic death for a foolhardy hero. She couldn't even feel the pain of his passing - Barovia had no room for grief. She flipped her dagger around in her hand and closed her eyes for a second. She sheathed the weapon under one of the multitudes of layers of her garments.

You're getting sentimental, that was more than you gave Patrina. Teo pushed the thought from her head - she had a night to survive. The first thing Teo needed to consider was who she could trust. She had known Bucren long enough to know he was no fool, or at least not foolish enough to have compromised the Tavern as splendidly as it had been. The knight in shining armor was no doubt being torn limb from limb by their undead pursuers, so he was no longer a relevant factor to the equation. Ismark was an incompetent oaf at times, but no one survived this long in Barovia without at least a lick of sense. Andrei as well was at least familiar to Teo - another of Ismark's ilk - foolhardy but not foolish enough to get themselves killed in a land like this. Teo knew little of Ireena, only that she had lived her long enough as well to have some sort of survival instinct. That left two unknowns - Katya and Esperanza.

Teo sighed and leaned back against the wall of the guesthouse as her newfound compatriots rushed inside. What the hell did you get yourself into this time? Trouble can't seem to leave you alone. You enjoy it. The estranged gypsy took another breath - negativity was never going to help her escape this shit storm alive.

Her best option at this moment was to wait and listen. Her friends were long gone down their networks of escape, until she could get back to them she was stuck with this group. Confrontation hadn't gotten her anywhere last time. It didn't with the Madame either. She needed to be more careful about this. They were dumb enough to listen to Ismark, if she played her cards right she could steer them in the right direction - but first she needed to see the seams of the group before Teo could wedge between them.

Teo slumped against the wall. She buried her head in her hands, pretending as if Xavier's death was a travesty that really had gotten to her. All the while, the cold steel of her dagger pressed against her thigh, a seductive reminder of her last resort.
 
She tangled in Esperanza's legs as the pair of them were hurried inside. Going to the floor, she'd scramble backward and away from the terror frothing outside. Only stopping when she felt her back meet the leather of a sofa and heard the gurgled cries of ...whatever that had all been grow dim from behind thick wood. She hadn't looked -not really- for fear of wasted seconds looking to catch glimpse of her pursuer leading to her death instead. She could've sworn she felt the breath of something; hot and putrid, on the back of her neck before an arm had grabbed hold and she was thrust into relative safety.

She went to swallow, was unable and instead took to look about the room with wide eyes and a pounding heart. It took her the better part of a moment to realize she'd dug her fingers so firmly into the flooring that they ached upon releasing. Uncertain she'd be able to stand just then -adrenaline pumping as it was- Kat resigned to take in the faces as she was able. Locked in fright and bewildered beyond comprehension, it wasn't exactly the best circumstances to make introductions. All the same, the pale woman who looked as though she'd topple at any second gave her the greatest pause. Smoothing a few errant strands of raven hair back with her palms, she'd wobble to her feet. With everyone catching their breath it was unfair of her to be so put-out by their silence.

This did nothing to stay the bile that crept into the back of her throat as she turned fierce eyes on whomever was closest and least vaguely responsible. A loud thump battered fruitlessly against the barricaded door, snapping her focus only for a moment.

"Wha-" her voice caught, attention hopelessly diverted to stay her trembling. "What was that?" Dark, mirrored eyes darted from face to face, looking for even the faintest hint of acquiescence toward blame. "Hm?" She neared Ismark; still gathering himself. With a shove none too gentle, she'd follow it up with another before he had much chance to answer. "None of you!?"

She felt a pang then. Sharp and intense that radiated from her gut and into her heart at the thought of this. How glibly she'd taken this path, nearly skipping through the desiccated outskirts of the region. Paying no mind to the ruin that acted as both sentry and warning for those too deaf or foolhardy to have not already heard the tales. And for what? A vague promise scrawled in expensive ink on thrice used parchment? The company of her own, mysterious duplicate and a dash of intrigue along the way? Her stomach knotted at the realization: that she hated herself for leaving the predictable -if not mildly irritating- life of what she bitterly called home.

And, too, at the realization that this, their predicament, all of it ...was only her fault.

Guilt flashed over her face as she couldn't help but glance toward Esperanza; alone. The echo of Xavier's death knell screamed still in the back of her mind. She couldn't fathom how loudly it must've sounded for her.
 
Bucren’s bow twanged as he fired at the approaching horde of monstrosities, fast running out of projectiles in his simple quiver. His hand reached back for another to nock to his bow, feeling only the brush of two feathered shafts remaining. Ismark was at the door and they should be in any second now, though he had to look when he heard the man unleash a chorus of expletives. The door was barred. Barred? So had they come on a fool’s errand then, trapped in the streets, only to die a miserable death as teeth and claws tore them apart? That’s what he got for helping newcomers. Clenching his teeth, he brought out his second last arrow, notching it to his string and bringing it back beside his jawline. This had to count. He wasn’t going to perish like some helpless goat bleating in some trapped corner. He-

And then, the dull sound of a locking beam being raised and a creaky door opening came wafting to him, with new voices urging them to come in. Bucren, faced with the prospect of a swarming horde of ghouls, with just two arrows left and a half broken blade, didn’t need to be told twice. Heart racing, he turned and sprang towards the door after Ismark and the girls rushed in, though he paused at the threshold as he knew he wasn’t the last. Xavier. The man was staying behind, too far away to make it time without endangering the rest. Bucren barely had time for a last glimpse before he threw himself within, bow and arrow clutched in his hands, finally letting go of the breath he had been holding when the door was shut after them. They had made it, albeit with some unfortunate casualties.

And she was here. Outside. He remembered how casually she brushed off his feathered shaft to the head. She was coming for them.

Whoever was within this so-called abandoned shack, they clearly knew, and were known, by Ismark. Brother? Sister? He had no time to consider the implications of Barovian family dynamics now. The others sought shelter and Bucren gave the man and woman within a once-over with his eyes before looking back to the door. They were outside. Just one restraining beam? That would hardly suffice. While the others discussed what to do next, Bucren busied himself with finding any loose furniture or debris he could, kicking and shoving it to further block the doorway and impede any further transgressors. Xavier was still outside. With her. Their turn would come soon. When he pushed what he could to this makeshift barrier, he too sunk to his feet, back to the door, panting a moment as he ran a hand over his face. Arrows. He needed more. And a blade that fuckin’ worked properly. It was too late to visit a smith now. And with what money?

Another bang at the door reminded him how just this narrow frame separated him from death and he lurched back on his feet, bow slung and arrow back in its quiver with its lone partner. “I trust this is not the end of our meticulous escape plan?” He mentioned drily to no one in particular.
 
The triphammer pulse of Esperanza’s heartbeat was louder than Ishmark’s pounding on the door, so loud she was sure the others could hear it just as well. Frantic eyes flickered from the door to the streets, watching for foes and praying for safety. Every second stretched beyond reason, and for several painful heartbeats, she was certain they were all doomed, and that the door would never open, much less in time for them to escape within.

But the door did open, and finally Esperanza felt as if she could breathe once again. There was one last glance behind her as the others filed into the building, and just enough time to change her mind about joining them.

“Xavier?” she murmured, the scene before a waking nightmare or hallucination, surely. Not reality, not where her loyal bodyguard succumbed to the clutches of a vicious vampire. But…

“Xavier!” she screamed, recognizing the horror befalling him as real. She tried to run to him, some foolish errand to save him, but hands dug into her arms and pulled her back. She tugged, nearly freeing one arm form Ishmark, determined to save Xavier or at least try, but Katya grabbed her as well, and both pulled her into the building. “Xavier!” she cried against, struggling madly against the others, even as she lost sight of him.

“Let go! We have to save him! We can’t leave him out there! Don’t close the door.” She clawed at the door heaving breaths turning into gasp and shudders and finally sobs. “We can’t leave him out there. We have to save him. We have to….” Finally, defeated, she slumped to the ground beside the door, and cried into her arm.
 
Ismark looked towards Andrei for only a fraction of a moment before his attention turned towards the door where Bucren was just rising back up, the mans trusty bow trusty bow held at the ready. "Something like that." He offered faintly in response to Andrei as his gaze worked its way over Espernza. He couldn't bare to look at her long though and quickly he brought his forlorn expression back towards Andrei and Ireena. His hand fell over his, not out of any customary gesture, but from how completely winded he was. A realization struck his face, along with a glimmer of dread that formed as he bluntly stated towards the pair. "Should I even dare to ask why the two of you are here."

Without waiting for an answer the Burgomasters son collapsed into a nearby cushioned chair and looked over towards those he had arrived with. Individually he looked over each of them, save for Esperenza whom he could not find the courage to gaze upon. "Stra...The devils mistresses, at least two of them, that's what you, what we all saw." His labored remark was followed with a disgusted snort as he looked away from Kat and back towards Bucren. "They won't be able to enter here, unless they are invited in." Ismark lifted a hand up to rub along his shoulder which had turned tender from slamming into the door now that the adrenaline of their escape had worn off. "So we wait them out, until the sun comes up." His eyes drifted over with a sense of appreciation for the silent gypsy that had somehow got tossed into all of this.

The rattle of a fist and scratch of a claw upon the heavily barricaded door tore Ismarks attentions away from that curious woman and with a wrinkle of his lips he sank back into the chair. "God's I need a drink. Ireena, be a darling and get me a bottle of that brandy from the liquor cabinet."
 
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