Balthazar looked left toward the drow, right towards the pale tiefling, and wondered amusedly which of the three were going to be the least frightening to the children. He was weeping and clutching a stuffed doll she attempted to hush him. The girl was maybe ten years old, and the boy was about seven. They turned a corner and saw a pair of children standing in the middle of an otherwise lifeless street. “Perhaps we can find someone who can explain what has happened to bring us here,” suggested Malenthor, noting that the mist seemed to be closing in behind them as they proceeded. She took a breath, straightened her stance, and brushed her gown before setting her pace, her composure gathered for whatever was ahead. “Fun for whom…” she replied, mostly to herself, as she peered ahead.
CURSE OF STRAHD WALLPAPER FULL
Changes of plans are just full of fun surprises.” Glancing back to see the expression on the sorceress’s face, Balthazar said, “It’s okay, Lillian. The sound was somewhat muted by the mists but still strong. The drow exchanged a glance with her then followed the dragonborn. The tiefling squinted sternly in the sudden bright light, her silver eyes reflecting the radiance. Then the cleric whispered a short prayer, evoking light on his shield, and directed the others towards the sound. “Well, this isn’t what we were contracted for.”īalthazar hushed his companions, drawing their attention to the sound of soft whimpering coming from somewhere off to the east. It hung precariously askew, proclaiming the establishment to be the Blood on the Vine tavern. The drow inspected the sign hanging in front of the closed tavern. Nestled among the solemn dwellings surrounding them were a handful of closed-up shops. “ Stronmaus must be laughing at me!” The blue-scaled cleric had a wide grin on his reptilian face, amused by the happenings. “Powerful forces at work here,” said Balthazar. Lillian stopped in her tracks, slowly taking in their new surroundings and trying to keep her composure. In fact, surrounded by tall houses as dark as tombstones, they were not sure they were in Westgate at all anymore… They pressed forward and finally found a small break in the mist, which only confirmed the dragonborn’s suspicions, as they were no longer in the right part of Westgate. Malenthor called upon the magical gifts of his heritage, evoking dancing lights in an attempt to illuminate the street at their feet. The fog swirled around them until they could barely see their hands in front of their faces, let alone each other.
“Whatever it is, it’s definitely disconcerting,” said Lillian.īalthazar sniffed the air. “Is this sorcery, do you think?” the dark elf asked the tiefling, gesturing at the rising mists. The darkening sky swallowed the sun greedily.
They seemed to lose their familiarity, which was disturbing, given how familiar the streets of Westgate had become to the three. The mist turned the buildings around them into gray ghosts. “Hrm,” Lillian echoed the drow, looking across at the others. “Hm,” said Malenthor, casting an uncertain glance at the hulking blue dragonborn. “I can already tell it’s going to get good.” But as they turned to leave he had added, “Dead … just as good.” The fog grew thicker as they proceeded about their grim task. The Shou’s brother Smiling Zheng had hired you to get Grosk, alive if possible. As the sun faded, mist rolled into the streets of Westgate, and three figures worked their way through those streets toward Big Edna’s Tavern in search of Grosk, the half-orc gladiator who had murdered a friend of theirs, Happy Zheng.
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