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"One night," Stanimir says, "a wounded soldier staggered into our camp and collapsed."
Most of the Vistani grow quiet to listen to his tale, despite having likely already heart it a thusand times. You watch silently, taking another bite of the pastry, which is beginning to taste quite delicious.
"We nursed his terrible injury and quenched his thirst with wine. He survived. When we asked him who he was, he wouldn't say. All he wanted was to return home, but we were deep in the land of his enemies. We took him as one of our own and followed him back toward his homeland. His enemies hunted him. They said he was a prince, yet we didn't give him up, even when their assassins fell upon us like wolves."
Deep in the bonfire, you see the dark figure standing with sword drawn, fighting off a host of shadowy shapes. You become enamored with the fire. There is a whole world in there, separate from your own.
"This man - Strahd von Zarovich, merely a boy - fought to protect us, as we protected him. We bore him safely to his home, and he thanked us. He said, 'I owe you my life. Stay as long as you wish, leave when you choose, and know that you will always be safe here.'"
You are now completely fixated on the dancing figure in the fire. When it vanquishes its final foe, it disperses in a cloud of smoke and embers.
"And thus we alone have the power to leave his domain. This is a promise that predates the curse that has since fallen over our noble prince."
"A promise that existed before he became a tyrant," adds an old man from the crowd.
The Vistani nod in agreement. This makes sense to you; a historical agreement, woven into the nature of the curse that affects the valley. "Does that mean the Vistani could help somebody leave?" you ask, taking another bite from the pie.
"No," he replies. "But worry not. You are safe with us here. The evils that typically lurk the Svalich woods at night avoid us. Strahd's promise is extended to you, as long as you are with us."
(cont.)
