>>5198427>>5198466>>5198467"I came to Barovia to look for my sister," you say. "If we don't talk to these Vistani, I will regret it."
And so, you and Ireena approach the encampment, your approach muffled by the sound of music and singing. Twelve Vistani men and women are standing and sitting around the fire, talking loudly and drinking wine. They seem to be having a great time.
Your approach is halted when a man sitting on the back of one of the wagons shouts at you. Most of the Vistani around the fire stop singing and look at you. They don't draw their weapons - in fact, once they see that you are wounded, one of them beckons you toward the fire, a small group of men and women approaching to help you.
"Strangers," says the man who beckoned you, "We do not know who you are. But you are welcome to share our fire!" Finally a welcome sight. Kossuth would be happy. The crowd cheers as you are brought into the circle and sat on the wet ground in front of the blazing fire.
Your eyes scan the encampment as you cross into the ring of wagons, looking carefully at every tent, every face. A part of you hopes you're just going to see your sister among the crowd, looking the exact same way as when she left. But you know there's not yet any cause for celebration. You don't know where you are, or who these people are. You only know that your sister left with people like them.
You are offered flasks of wine and invited to join the reverie.
Ireena is put at easy very quickly. You remain skeptical as the sound of chatter overtakes the quiet of the forest.
You hate being the one to brood and feel miserable at a party, but it's true: you didn't come here for fun. Years of bottled-up pain and frustration over a lack of answers over your sister threaten to overwhelm you. But you stay collected. "I was wondering," you begin, "if anyone here would be familiar with... the comings and goings of other outsiders like me?" You look at their faces, illuminated by the light of their fire.
"Comings," says a man who has introduced himself as Antonio. "But not goings!" He gives a hearty drunken laugh. Everyone seems to think he told the greatest joke in the world.
"So, what? Do adventurers not leave?" you ask. <span class="mu-i">You kidnap them, don't you?</span> You'd love to straight-up ask it out loud, but you know presenting yourself as the enemy seems non-conductive to finding your sister, and that accusing them of being kidnappers wouldn't go over well even if it was true. Instead you just say: "Do you... keep people here?" (In retrospect, it comes out just as bad.)
His face scrunches up. "No!" he says. "No, no... that is quite the suggestion!"
You wince at your own callousness, but still aren't satisfied with this answer. You <span class="mu-i">know</span> Joannus was kidnapped. Kidnapped and brought somewhere by these merchants - the Vistani - for reasons unknown to you. These ones seem so jolly and lively, but there has to be more to it, right?
(cont.)
