Sunny Barovia

 Thanks to Dave P for authoring while I was out! “There it is then. My boot has soaked through finally. Again. More stinking, filthy mess. The leather is little more than a sieve now.”   We had worked our way through the marshes and swamps, now only to come to these bleeding streams and rivers. The advice to “follow the river” sounded simple enough if one did not consider the crossing of said river in the first place. The crossing of the first stream had left several of us a bit battered, bruised, and exhausted. I don’t really know how the Paladin managed it weighed down with all that armour and kit. Still, not my problem so long as he survives. Coming to the second river I suggested we might be better served by putting up a guide rope to improve our balance while fording. Dacso and the Paladin offered to cover me while I worked across and things went uneventfully as the rest of the Party crossed. Then we realized we hadn’t set up the rope for retrieval. Fully resigned to ...

As I was gone, the following is courtesy of our DM.  Thanks Abe! ********* After forcing the hag to flee, the party hurried west to the Vistani camp, stopping just long enough to exchange a few words with the denizens there, quaff a proffered cup of wine, and entrust them with yet another child that the party rescued. Several party members did not fail to note the embrace and soft words that passed between the up-to-then always-silent Nina, and the enigmatic Muriel. But the hard traveling that followed wiped casual conversation from the thoughts of most of them, and experience had perhaps by now taught them that, while Barovians tend to be curious about the world outside of their shadowed valley, they keep their secrets. So, it was perhaps a surprise to some of them what happened next. “Which are your people?” Muriel asked Connall. “Baratok,” he replied. “Ah,” she answered. “I met a trio of you north of her ladyship’s village a few years ago.” Connall nods. “I wondered if yo...