Re: A Pirate's (Un)Life for me! (Rovana)
The Old Svalich Road, heading West.
Soon after their leaving the sight and sounds of distant Vallaki, and the hilltop encampment behind, Rovana and her troupe passed a small bridge over a misty river that flowed from north to south. Beyond this was an intersection, but Damia interjected before any decision could be made.
"This is the Luna River, not the Raven River. We must travel further before we turn aside. Ahead of us still is the road to Krezk and the Tsolenka Pass to Mount Ghakis. To the north is Lake Baratok, which is the source of the Raven River, that runs east to west. To the south..."
Damia paused, frowning.
"Nothing but pain lies to the south. Ruins and a swamp. We should not go there."
As it was Rovana's stated desire to pursue their course westward to the Raven River, there would be little reason to veer off course at this juncture, but the parrot flew up at the pirate captain's behest just to glimpse the roads in either direction. It was a foggy day, as per usual, but a small lake in the rising elevations to the north became visible to confirm what Damia said. Joe then flew south for a ways, as the road turned into little more than an overgrown path that seemed to have not been traveled for centuries. Undead as the parrot was, Rovana could sense through what Joe saw a feeling of dread as the land soured, and the familiar had the strong inclination to turn back. There was nothing for the captain here...
Joe flew back to Rovana and settled again on her shoulder, receiving his pets and wobbling his eye-patched head this way and that, at comfort.
In the meanwhile, Neku seemed willing to talk a bit more about his powers.
"That talent I have is what my mentor called a 'mind thrust,'" Neku explained.
"It works on those who have intelligent thoughts. If I can overcome their mental defenses, I can drop them. It works better on the weak of mind... but it's a talent that I have not fully explored. My training was turned inward. I use my mental abilities to enhance my body - my strength, my speed, my endurance."
The dark eyed man spread his arms and let his vest fall away, allowing Rovana to observe his finely sculpted body, lean and muscular like an Adonis. Neku was a specimen of what a handsome and fit man was to be.
"I cannot equal Jowai's orog-blooded strength, but in any given strike, I am able to set my mind in motion. By the methods of Gith, my thoughts acquire speed, my muscles acquire force, and my body becomes a weapon. Mind and body as one."
"And he's humble, too," Jowai grunted dryly, to which Neku lowered his hands and smiled.
"Being humble is for penitents and beggars. We are corsairs. The Captain Rovana is not shy, and neither should we be. Now then... what's that you said about a shadow?"
The mystic considered for a moment then responded.
"In my journey through the Shadow World, I came across living darkness. Animated void that acted with malevolence. My mentor told me that such things could be made from the shadows of the dead - ones who had ceased to have need of them - and be filled with necrotic energy and a hatred for the living, or depending on their creation, a more specific hatred. It is this hatred that sustains them, and as they are shadow, they are anathema to the light. My assumption would be that if your shadow was taken in this realm, where death is an ever present, yet oddly different thing, then perhaps you will need to destroy the spell that animates your shadow, before it can be returned to you."
Damia quietly spoke after him.
"He is not wrong, Rovana, but your shadow is taken from you by a curse. I know the nature of curses... my people deal in them regularly, and my tribe more than most. Only great magic or the payment of something equal in value for what you bargained for may truly lift such a curse and return your shadow to you. That was your price - a shadow. I imagine for the Mad Mage, the price was his sanity."
The Vistana said this with such sad certainty that it stunned Neku into somber silence, and even Jowai turned to regard the gypsy with a profundity that was at odds with his thus far irreverent demeanor.
After a long pause, Neku turned to the captain.
"My powers work on the mind, not through shadows. I would presume the only advantage of not having a shadow is that no magic could be used to turn it further against you."
---
As they moved westward through the winding Svalich road and dips and crests through vale and valley, Rovana recited the tale of Dagon, the mysterious entity of the deep whose spirit was present here in the Mists, and to whom her sword and various objects had a meaningful connection. This, paired with her recollection of the Deep One in the Wachterhaus, produced looks of surprise.
"We have seen similar creatures. Foul things from the water, with the likeness of drowned men. Like the undead zombies that litter these roads at night, yet they are connected to the rivers, lakes and... somehow the sea, though there is nothing in this realm that we have seen to indicate a way to get to a place of saltwater. Jowai and I tried for days to get back up the river to the Fanged Death, but the mists blocked us at every turn, forcing us onto this road. I've not heard of Dagon before, but just the name gives me an eerie feeling - like saying it aloud is a blasphemy that will draw an unwelcome gaze upon me."
Jowai merely grunted, displeased.
---
An hour and a half later, having spent much time riding through the woods at a leisurely pace, the four riders and one parrot saw a road jutting south away from the main path and a worn wooden sign saying "to Tsolenka Pass."
"This is the way to Mount Ghakis," said Damia.
"It is the path to the foothills and will continue to rise until the weather will turn snowy and bitterly cold. My tribe has paid it little notice, and no Barovian giorgio goes there."
"Barovian what?" Jowai asked.
"Giorgio. It is our term for... non-Vistani."
Jowai chuckled.
"The goblins have rude words for outsiders too."
"It is not rude, as we see it. A Vistana is simply born, not made like a pirate. One cannot join the Vistani, but one can leave it... I am going against much of the wishes of my people in journeying away from my Vardo and my father's caravan. But Madame Eva told me it would be all right, that I was destined to not walk the same path as my family. She is the rauna of our tribe. Her word supercedes all others, so my father cannot punish me."
---
A short while later, continuing west, at last Rovana heard the sounds of a second body of water, a fast flowing river running westward, with a wide wooden bridge crossing it, reinforced underneath by ancient stonework, whose masonry had begun to crumble.
Before the bridge, a road followed the river as it veered west and then bent south. Across the bridge a sign pointed onward and read "Krezk." This would be the home town of Ludmilla, or at least Ludmilla as she had been as a mortal woman - and a noble apparently. Would that mean that some of Ludmilla's family might reside there still?
"Krezk is a high-walled town that does not like the outside world." Damia said when asked about it.
"Vistani are not welcome. Outsiders are rarely welcome either unless they have business. It is self-sustaining, trading only in wine, and it is the site of the Abby of St. Markovia. Its people vary in skin-tone, but the darker colors are prevalent there. Old tribes from the wildlands far to the west, where the air is hotter and the weather humid and wet, traveled to Barovia long, long ago and settled. More than that, I do not know. It is giorgio business."
---
If they chose to follow the road south, as Rovana wished, they would soon come across a figure in the road, standing before them. The figure was dressed in old plate mail, emblazoned with the crest of a large winged lizard - a dragon, in fact, though Rovana had only ever heard of such creatures in wild legend - yet judging by the skull she had seen in Ravenloft, this depicted creature could easily be a symbol of Argynvost.
As they drew closer still, the appearance of the figure's face revealed itself to be undead, with unfeeling eyes that blazed with pin-points of red in the middle of otherwise grey orbs.
The undead warrior regarded them, then in a loud voice said:
"Halt. Whom do you serve?"
Its gauntlet-covered hands rested on the pommel of a large, two handed sword.
