Invidian Heart

[Boots]

Once every now and again, on the few evenings before the moon became full, the house on the hill became alive with the sounds of merrymaking and laughter. The filthy boarded up windows cracked with orange light from the makeshift fire pit that sat in the middle of a huge stone room, located underground beneath. Around this gathered an astonishingly large group of gypsy blooded folk. Dark hair, dark skin, bright colours donned especially for this evening, as they would never risk it any other day. Women spun around the fire grasping poorly mended skirts, a band of men sat cross legged with instruments from all over the core, playing a lively tune that was clapped along to by the scores of small families scattered about the room.

A young and feminine Monica with flowers braided into her hair sat between the legs of a larger gypsy man, his arms around her slender, bare shoulders, her arms around a little girl with the dark curls of the man, and violet eyes the same shade as Monica's own. Her fingers tapped along with the beat of the drums and tambourine, a smile of awe on the child's face as she listened, and watched the dancers. Far off in the woods surrounding the crumbling house on the hill, several lookouts sat perched in the shadows of trees, watching for any signs of danger, for they were to alert those inside at the first sign, and had planned for months just to have these precious few evenings of rest and celebration before the inhabitants of the house scattered once more into the woods.

The child turned to stare up at Monica, a gleam to her eyes, her small hands gripping Monica's arms tightly in excitement. Carmen then squirmed out of her mother's embrace and went to join the others in the throng of dancing bodies around the fire, spinning and giggling madly, with her small arms thrown into the air, her own second hand dress flaring out with each turn her bare feet made. It was this that brought such joy to Monica's heart, and she never wanted to be any place else despite the unfortunate place they had been born. Her family was together, all at once. A family bound by souls, by blood, and by the passion for survival. There was nothing more in the world she loved more than her family.

[Boots]

Monica awoke in an explosion of pain, all over her crumpled body. Her longcoat felt four times as heavy as she pushed herself up with shaking arms, spitting out a glob of blood and saliva onto the stone floors of the crypt. All through the tomb, small beams of sunlight filtered in through cracks in the ceiling from the daylight outside. The creatures Monica had rendered limb from limb now retreated to their coffins.

Crouching above her were her companions, Zachary and Ruslan, each with worried expressions on their faces as her Violet eyes snapped open, blood shot and half lidded. The battle had been one Monica did not expect- she knew this creature, she knew their weaknesses and had fought them often with ease. But under the Blood Moon they were different, vicious. One came out of nowhere and struck her down with such ease it triggered an extremely unwelcome feeling in the Half Vistana.

Fear. 

[Boots]

[A sealed letter makes it's way swiftly over the countryside.]

[Boots]

It was not often Monica lost complete control to the power the moon had over her, but sometimes, in a momentary lapse of concentration, when her mind and her form were so exhausted they simply could not carry their burdens any longer- she embraced the madness given to her by the light of the moon like so many of her kind before her. Pushed on by the insane amount of energy flooding through her core, she ran wild through the woods, the sands, any open plain that would house her. Those that knew her in these times had dispersed, her husband, her friends, they were not always there. In times like these it was only her and her wild gypsy spirit, a dangerous thing for those around her who were unaware of her savage condition. She needed to run. She needed to fight. She was overcome with a blind rage, a red haze coming over any who neared her- she did not see people, or friends. She saw enemies. She saw the men who took her Carmen from her.

It was an oddly freeing feeling.

[Boots]

Silent in the shock of what had just transpired, the Hound women
looked at each other in the dark, dank basement hidden away
beneath the shelter of the tree tops. Monica seethed, curling her
blood drenched hands into fists. She seethed, but for what? What
was she angry at this time? She could not pin point a target for her
hatred. Everything made her see red, her blood boiled.

The next few days flew by in a blur. The man Ingrid had sought
Monica's aid in saving, had been returned to life as if in the blink
of an eye. As if it had never happened. Sleep had been a distant
memory, and each time the Half Vistana cautioned a glance down
at her tattooed hands they seemed covered in blood she did not
want to clean off.

There was music in the camp that night, the Vistani singing and
dancing around her, and it put her momentarily at ease as she played
her fiddle along with the mournful song the man sang; of loss, of
confusion, a feeling any of the blood knew well- but especially her.
In her head, she thought of all that had happened- losing herself in
the emotion of the melody.

Ingrid spoke of making moves on Invidia. Sealamin was dead. Vladimir
had returned to her at the perfect time. Hunter said they had a lead,
Carmen's eyes. Her eyes made her different than the other captives.
Her eyes gave her a chance at life. Monica knew she would have to
put her faith in the stupidity of others, which unsettled her greatly.

In all the chaos mingling in her head, she spared no idle thought for
the blonde haired Dementlieuse man she had seen rescued.

The music ended on a melancholy note, and the Vistani scattered
back to the camp- leaving Monica suddenly flooded with the emotion
of her thoughts. Her vision swirled crimson, and right as she hesitantly
looked up, the stormy clouds parted to reveal the full moon.

To say that Monica got her hands dirty that evening was an understatement.
Crazed by the lunacy provided by both the moon and this alien feeling of
utter hatred and the need to seek revenge on everyone who had ever
wronged her, Monica jogged through Barovian lands, gritting her teeth.

"Jog it off. Just jog it off-"

She repeated the mantra, over and over to herself- until she was
accosted by several creatures that met unfortunate fates when
she decided to forgo her sword and punch them into puddles of flesh and bone.

The next few days would prove to be a painful recovery process.

[Boots]

Plagued with dreams of butchered souls and seas of blood in her restless slumber, Monica lifted the jar of moonshine to her lips, drinking deeply. The bitterly strong liquid slipped down her throat, burning, waking her up a bit as she pulled her hood down to shield her eyes from the rising sun. Hunter and Ingrid stood outside with her with their respective drinks, Ingrid with her bottle of rich red wine, Hunter with his trusty flask. She was tired, she felt in both in her soul and in her bones. It was the kind of exhaustion one felt when they knew something big was about to occur.

They were hired by a man in passing, who told them to head towards the grey city after seeing signs of a red vortex swirling in the skies above the town from his perch in the observatory. Travelling with the small family made Monica at least a little happier, though these brief moments where she felt as if she was really doing something provided only a small relief from her constant anger.

Along the way, they ran into the halfling priestess Eleora whom Monica remembered from the awful jaunt in the deserts with the demon worshipping Half Vistana she had hoped to save. The demon troubles were still appearing problematic to the hafling, and so Monica and her companions joined forces. The Raunie in the camp spoke of a spirit, someone that may help them find the artifact they sought in order to stop this demon from retrieving the final page of shadow, a page that would determine the fate of their world. She also spoke of someone in shadow, working against them. This set her on edge.

A chill ran through Monica at the notion of what they were about to face, as Keja spoke of an island somewhere within the sea of sorrow. The isles of agony, and sorrow were their first mark. And so it went, that the motley crew made their way to Port-a-Lucine to secure themselves a ship, a captain, and a crew. They made a deal with a notorious man in the sewers of the city, a man with blonde hair and an eyepatch. A man by the name of Pieter.

"The docks at midnight. Look for a ship with a black flag."

[Boots]

As they waited in the darkened streets of Dementlieu an unwelcome person came into Monica's already frustrated view. But, by the will of Eleora she begrudgingly accepted his presence and entertained fantasies of brutally murdering the blonde haired invidual. Eventually, to the north a black flag was raised, fluttering in the night breeze, and the group boarded after a minor struggle due to some of them not being very good at floating. Off they sailed, first having to make a stop at a place Monica nicknamed Pirate Island. They dropped anchor in Blaustein, running into another anchored ship full of strangers, idiots, and people who had no reason to be there in Monica's eyes. Hrunt pointed ahead and immediately claimed one of them to be the traitor Keja had warned them off in the cards.

Fighting the urge to draw her sword she murmured at her companions, forming a swift plan. They would not travel with this random other group. They had a job to do, and they wanted it done right. The powder keg the half mad gypsy had previously dragged on board looked awfully attractive, at this point. Nevertheless, they sailed on, deep into the sea of sorrow. Mist began to surround them in thick spouts, and their captain nervously called out the dangers of such. Monica was not afraid. If anything, she was anxious to run into this other, rival ship. A dark shadow loomed suddenly over their boat, and glancing up, the companions let out cries of confusion as a black ship that glowed green seemed to float above them. "Ghost ship!" The crew screamed in horror- But Monica knew this was where she would find help. Whoever was on board that spirit ship, she thought they needed to talk to.

Their ship docked on an island on one of the isles in the sea of sorrow, and in the distance they spotted a strange looking tower. Loading into the row boat, they slowly paddled across the dark waters, anxiety pulling at Monica's stomach. Down, down, down they went into the tower, through winding halls and dusty rooms until they ran into the group of strangers from the rival ship. A battle ensued. Magic of powerful levels was used but in the end, Monica and her companions stood victorious. On they pushed, winding through the stone corridors, lower and lower until they found themselves in stone caverns, deep under water. Ahead, they faced a fierce beast of flesh and bone, and sprinted past it with a gasp of breath as they barely escaped. Little did they know the real challenge was yet to come..

[Boots]

Catara, they called it. This revolting, disturbing creature of the deep. With frighteningly large and elongated tentacles and a mouth with rows upon rows of deadly sharp teeth. Monica watched down the hall as it charged for her, raising her great blade with a mighty roar to bring it crashing down upon the creature's head. Nothing happened, the wounds she made- through great, and deeply cut- sealed almost instantly. She tired herself out fighting it, before she forced herself to turn and flee. "What WAS that thing!?" Monica panted, holding her knees and looking wildly at her companions.

They were deep beneath the ocean, waves crashing onto the island above them, and Monica was briefly worried that the tower would be submerged. It was uncovered that the final page, lay submerged as well, in deeper waters- but they had found the location. None of them could breathe underwater, so taking the page was going to be an issue for those without gills. Thankfully, Monica was friends with Hrunt the mad halfling- who'd at some point in the story decided to run off and praise this Catara being with a group of old mad-men and women. Catara granted him the power to breathe underwater, and so he dove for the page- which was taken by another who had been given this gift.

Idly massaging her bruised knuckles from punching a woman square in the face for talking down to her earlier, Monica watched the waters swirl and lap at the small wooden structures above the water. The page had been recovered, but not by the side of good. They had no idea what this elf was going to do with it, and she knew she had to now, hunt him down. It wasn't hard, he constantly turned up in places she frequented, so when she eventually cut him down and searched his things only to find he did not have the page, a new anger filled her. Anger at not knowing what had become of it. 

[Boots]

Madame Eva had always frightened Monica, even before she arrived in Barovia she had heard of this Raunie and knew her powers to be great. With deep respect, the Half Vistana bowed her dark haired head to the elderly Vistani woman and sat close by her on the cushions. They spoke for a long time, wrinkled brown fingers moving above tarokka cards that held answers Monica longed to know.



Hunter, stubborn and impatient as Monica had always known him to be, walked right up to the Vistani Captain after Eva had shed some light on Carmen's situation and secured passage to the Kartakkan borders of Invidia. It was all really happening. Soon, Monica and her rag-tag Slayer family would be on their way to finding her daughter. Gazing up at the starry night sky, Monica felt for the first time since she'd been here, a true spark of hope.

"I am coming, mi niņa."

Sketch of Carmen taken from Hunter's casebook.

[Boots]

[Amidst Monica's chaotic notes and papers a fresh set of notes is stored.]

[Boots]

The hunt for this demon had proved tiring in more ways than one, but also enlightening. Along the way, The Hounds and their associates had learned about things regular people had gone their entire lives without ever knowing.

They had discovered clues that lead to certain areas of the core. First, they travelled deep beneath the sun kisser church in the village of Barovia to breach the Vault of Attainment. The Vicar was true to his warnings that the place was indeed, cursed, and the surly Half Vistani could feel the chill deep to her bones. This place was empty, bitter. It was hell bent on revenge for whoever had wronged it.
Needless to say, they battled their way through this cursed sealed off area in search of the information that would lead them further in their quest. The notes spoke of a long dead Wizard, who lead them to the final two locations of the books they now had in their possession.

Another sealed off area beneath the church of Ezra in Dementlieu, and the mortuary in the village. With all of these locations searched thoroughly, the Hounds now had everything they needed-- or so they thought-- to defeat the demon monster. Now, they waited, for the final fight was soon to come.

Tergish scroll of banishment, powerful.

The dusty old map that lead us to the books.

[Boots]

[The following is a handwritten account, sketched images are included with certain parts.]

Banishing The Daemon - Part I

After a lengthy expedition through winding caves near the Village of Barovia, we discovered a set of notes on a ritual of some sort after I decapitated an Ezrite-- Ezra forgive me, whom had been possessed. Eleora spoke the words at a circle of druidic power, and a large elemental being came forth to battle. When it dispersed after being defeated, it left behind one of the Pages of Shadow, and a set of ritualistic looking robes and a mask. So this is what we did, until we had every single Page of Power, and a set of five robes and masks. I could tell Ellie was uneasy, we all were. But for some reason none of us made the decision to stop at any point. We had been tricked into thinking this ritual would destroy the pages for good. A spirit passed us on the road, looking afraid, and beckoned for us to follow. It ran, always glancing behind it in horror as if it was being chased by something.

It led us up a mountainside, to a demonic looking circle in between the mountains on flat, but stormy and rocky terrain, in the middle of which lay a corpse. The spirit cried over the corpse, which then began to speak.



It begged us to give it freedom, and we assured it we would. Henri stood by my side, and I felt the strength of his hand grasping mine, giving me the drive I needed to finish this. Eleora began to pray over the corpse, as Hunter sprinkled Holy Water over the circle and the area. I think we all prayed, then. All to different gods. Henri and I prayed to Ezra. Hunter, to Hala. Eleora to the Lady Luck who had guided us so far.

And so we all donned our robes, five of us in masks with a page of power each. I could feel the raw energy radiating from these shadowy pages as soon as I picked them up, it was.. incredible, as if they spoke to my soul. But I am used to dealing with inner battles, and by the Lunatio my mind has been made strong over the years. The five performing the ritual we thought would destroy the pages we placed inside the circle were Henri, Hunter, Eleora, Mero and I. Eleora spoke the words first, and we all chanted them with her.

ITU’KA’AMAEL ITU MALAK

KA’MAEL AZAK

ARCANALMABRUM

As soon as the final words were spoken for the last time, we immediately knew we had screwed up. Our gut feelings of dread had been trying to warn us, but we had no idea of the gravity of what we had just done.



The pages began to levitate, and a show of light and colour flashed before us as each piece of epic power floated to the center of the circle to join as one. Horror flashed beneath our masks as we realised, we had been turned to stone. I saw Hunter looking at me, a sadness in his one remaining eye as if he was.. saying goodbye to me. I could not bear to look at Henri, even if I could move my head. We had failed. The world was doomed, and we were statues.
 

[Boots]

[The following is handwritten, sketched images are included with certain parts.]

Banishing The Daemon - Part II

My eyes opened to grey, stormy skies, and a familiar handsome blonde man looking down at me with worry. Henri was alive? That meant.. I was alive, had the demon not killed us? I was full of questions and had received nothing in the way of an answer. He helped me to my feet, groggy, and I glanced to the others, still in their robes, though I ripped mine off immediately. The Daemon had spoken, as I lay there bleeding. He had, foolishly, as if he was a villain in a children's storybook, revealed his entire plan while my companions listened and pretended to be dead. It turned out we were correct in our assumptions that Inajira was NOT a friend of Count Strahds, in fact, rather an enemy.



The Daemon planned to take the pages to where it all began. Eleora knew where it was, she said she had been there before. I couldn't help but feeling helpless, and I knew the others were feeling the same. We packed our things, not stopping to wash the blood away or rest. There was too much at stake to fail again, and we had a window. We climbed up the snowy mountain, higher, and higher still until the air was stiff in my lungs, and my nose was pink. An abandoned silver mine lay at the end of our journey, boarded off to the public. We made the decision to wait the night out, and discuss our plan.

It was at that moment, that the Pups of the Society came scampering over to us with wild eyes. They had used the information we'd gained to travel back in time in an attempt to warn us off of doing the ritual. They had failed to do that, they said, but Madame Eva had told them the only way to defeat Inajira was to find the Sith. The elves in our group did not seem entirely comfortable, Rae in particular. But, now we had a plan. Come morning we would follow the hin priestess into the caves filled with strange, wild magic, and attempt to locate the rift that would take us to the land of the Fae.

But.. that would come after I curled up beside Henri and had at least a few hours rest.
 

[Boots]

[The following is handwritten, sketched images are included with certain parts.]

Banishing The Daemon - Part III



Today I have been turned into a small flying humanoid, a badger, and a little imp looking thing. The mines are unpredictable and rather frightening, if you aren't prepared. I certainly wasn't, and I'll be damned if I have to experience being small and adorable ever again. The fighting was harder, this time, but we had a friend looking out for us. A tiny, winged adorable thing, that left us presents and watched over us. Unfortunately Jean turned into an Imp right as we were about to ask her a question, and she ran away screaming, thinking he was Sith.

Further down, and down again into the old silver mine we finally came to a large hole in the ground, gaping, and filled with tendrils of shadow. This was it, Eleora stated. Hunter and I began to lower a rope to the bottom, securing his grappling hook at the rocks at our feet. We grinned to eachother, perhaps trying to alleviate our fears with playful banter, and I swung down the rope after making sure it was secure.

My mind is fuzzy at this point, and as hard as I try and remember how exactly we got to this new land I cannot recall anything past that hole in the ground. It was as if I dropped into darkness, then appeared out of the cliff face in a magical land where mushrooms and animals  talked and the wildlife wanted to eat you. It is the in between bits that are blank.

The fact that I can now say I have had an argument with a mushroom, should explain the strangeness of this land. They were helpful little Fungal Friends, as Fade calls them, and pointed us, rather, told us the way to the Fae Prince's castle.



We were sidetracked multiple times. Firstly, by a lovely little village filled with tiny people where we learned that Princess Maeve, the Prince's wife, knows how to destroy the book, and it must go to her, not the Prince. We also learned it had been ten years since the Daemon had gotten the book in our world and started war, here. Everyone was fighting.
Somewhere along the way Sasha's spirit appeared to us again and simply came with us, this time. A spirit rose from a garden, and put Sasha's spirit into the body of a young Doe.  Did I mention Sasha is a deer, now? And alive? Well, if you can call it alive..

Now, let me sum this up in a few short points.


- Eleora and Fade got themselves arrested and locked in the castle dungeons when Deer Sasha mentioned "Light."

-Sasha drank the Hatter's tea and nothing bad happened, which is strange.

- It will take four different Unicorn, yes, UNICORN horns to bring peace, and Maeve will tell us how to destroy the book.

-We are to use the horns to destroy the book, the book is even too powerful for Maeve, we must take it and the horns to the abyss and destroy it there. We have one last horn to collect.

[Boots]

[The following is handwritten, sketched images are included with certain parts.]

Banishing The Daemon - Part IV

We stood on the hill of stone and shadow, and all went black. As I brushed my hand to my belt to make sure my belongings were safe as I often do, I felt something different hanging there. I retrieved a strange deck of cards that had not been there before, an ill omen to me, my mother had often warned me of unknown Tarokka decks. And even if these were not Tarokka.. they stil had a strange, dangerous presence.

The Book of Shadows was weighing down on me heavily, now, and I felt my strength being slowly siphoned away. I was still holding on, my mind was still strong, but for how long? I couldn't stay like this forever. We had to finish this soon, or who knows what I'd become. Next up was the swamp, and the final Unicorn. Eleora looked up at me with a small frown and handed me several tonics of courage, warning me of the spider monster that lay ahead. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I took them.

But before we could make it to the swamp, we spied a fire in the distance. What we found boiled my blood more than anything else had in a long, long time. Nothing could have prepared me for this.



She called herself Baba Galixa, a withered old hag who cackled as she stirred her pot of boiling hot soup. I knew what was in that pot, but I dared not tell myself that for fear of losing my mind. Jean, unfortunately, did not know, and went pale with shock as he looked into the pot of soup. Eyeballs, bones and humanoid meat bubbled away, and that was exactly when I snapped. Seeing red, I moved behind her and grabbed the hag violently, forcing her wrinkled old face into the pot and drowning her, she struggled to no avail, I was too angry to let her have any mercy, and she deserved none. What if that had been my Carmen in that pot?

My hands burned with the motions but I felt it not, consumed by my hatred of this child-eating hag. The others did not even try and stop me, in fact, I think for a second there I saw respect on their faces. I tried to get into her windmill home in case she was hiding other captive children there, but it collapsed, and I was crushed by a large bit of wood. For as long as I live, I will never forget the dying screams of little girls and boys I failed to save. It has marked my soul.

Shortly afterwards, a Fey soldier rode up to us and demanded I hand over the book. But this time, we were prepared. Ellie nudged me, and I lifted high the blood red horn of the Unicorn we'd slain earlier. The mounted soldier gasped, and bowed his head. Finally, they were listening to us. Finally, we had help.



The creature we had to pass in the swamps was ages old, a giant monstrous spider. I hated spiders, this was no secret. But to destroy the Book of Shadow, I had to swallow my fears. The soldier offered the help of him and his men, and rode off to distract the beast so we would have safe passage. We sloshed forward, in a grim line, and I felt the Book continue to pull at my soul, my eyes had deep circles and my arms felt so weak I might fall over at any moment, but still we pushed on through the deep, sloshing fog covered waters of the swamp. In silence, a feeling of dread in the air.

The book seemed to speak to me. I had thoughts, dark thoughts, that maybe the power within these pages would make me feel.. better. Take away this darkness. All went black, and I woke up bleeding, clutching the book. I'd hurt Hunter severely, he was clutching his side and grinning haggardly. It was time to pass it over. I carefully gave it to Eleora. As the book came closer to it's destruction, it became heavier. We'd need to be careful towards the end of this journey.

We heard it before we saw it. The tortured screams of Fey being devoured and put into webs, and I fainted straight away.



 Hunter carried me out of there, and when I came to, I saw the monster of the marshes, where the mists parted to reveal a towering spire of black stone, it stomped towards us, roaring. Some of us used bracelets and other items to shoot light into it's eyes, momentarily blinding it as an elemental made of earth carried myself, and Mero the hin up the side of the spire, and I watched on in horror with my wet hair whipping in the storm-winds as the beast broke free of it's blindness and stomped towards the base of the spire. Slowly, but surely, we all began to make the climb. Out of nowhere, a huge clawed paw swiped me out of the air and took me. The beast had me in it's clutches, but I wriggled out and scrambled back up the rope we had dropped down.

Up, up we went, higher up the towering onyx spire that reached into the stormy skies above. It wasn't easy, the storm had made the surface slippery and dangerous. I was not strong enough, or fast enough to stop myself from falling. It happened in slow motion, I lost my footing, and fell backwards, closer to the maw of the beast following us. Hunter in an attempt to reach out and grab my hand, lost his footing too. We crashed back to the bottom, and I felt my forearm snap like a twig. My cousin is a brave man, and he dragged me to my feet. Barely, we made it back to the others, with the beast hot on our heels.



After an eternity of scaling this black sheer cliff, we finally made it, each of us falling over the final ledge with grunts and groans,  I cradled my broken arm in agony. We were met with a familiar laugh, and as we looked up, my stomach fell. Inajira had beaten us here. Eleora and I ran, as fast as we could, up the steps to the bridge that stretched across the chasm of darkness. We stood on this natural stone bridge, face to face with our enemy.

Mero, Eleora and I took the horn's we'd collected and raised them above our heads to call the final unicorn. Even writing this I feel a little ill due to the sweetness of it all. With a telltale clipclop, the final unicorn arrived, and all four of us touched our horns to the book of shadows.



For a moment, there was a heavy silence. Then a blinding light, and a booming explosion. All went black.
 

[Boots]

Where our dreams lap at the shore..

A little girl with raven curls and bright purple eyes ran through fields of tall grass, giggling madly. Behind her, a half blood Vistana with matching wild hair and flowing skirts ran after her with a heart full of glee, shouting. "I'm coming, mi nina! Better hide!" The child squealed with delight and sat, hiding in the tall limbs of grass that reached impossibly high to her, and covered her eyes with tiny hands.

"One.. two.." The blue sky above began to grey with heavy storm clouds, and a crack of thunder sounded off somewhere in the distance. Carmen uncovered her eyes and looked up, stifling laughter. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, she had won the game!

"Mummy..? You can come out now, you found me!" Silence. Carmen began to cry out, desperately searching the endless fields for the Half Vistani woman, her heart gripped with fear. "Mummy!? Mummy!"

Monica was gone. 

[Boots]

[The following is handwritten, sketched images are included with certain parts.]

Banishing The Daemon - Part V

It is hard to describe the in between. Being ripped back from the brink of death, to come crashing into the world once more like a newborn babe. I woke up on the floor of Princess Maeve's castle, drenched and broken, with my companions all telling me we'd won, we'd destroyed the Book of Shadow. I should have jumped with joy, celebrated, but I feel.. empty. I feel as if something has been taken from me.

Inajira is still alive, somewhere, but considerably less powerful. Eleora says she will begin research on ways to kill him for good, I will help where I am needed. In the mean time, we collected a few things for Hunter to put on show at the University, then, after making our goodbyes, we left the strange and magical, but also terrible world of the Fae.

Our job for now was done, and we'd earned ourselves at least a few days of reprieve. I am still wondering about this mysterious pack of cards in my possession..




Deck of Hazard

[Boots]

The once empty, frozen halls of the abandoned temple were warm with perpetual firelight, now. Monica sat with her back against the wall closest to the source of the warmth and light, curling and unfurling her fists at her sides and trying desperately to keep her emotions in check. Losing a great love is just part of life, Monica would usually tell those who asked how it was she moved on after losing her first two husbands. But, as truth would tell it, in her heart this was a deeper pain than she'd felt before. For she hadn't lost that love, but she couldn't get near it. It was so close, yet so far. She couldn't touch him. She could barely stand to look at him.

She  tilted her head back against the stone, fighting back hot tears and looking to the ceiling, a thousand thoughts rushing to the front of her mind as she began to sing a mournful, soothing lullaby she'd sung to Carmen a thousand times when the child had clung to Monica at night in bed. The crackling, roaring fire began to still, and quiet. Her pretty voice began to crack, becoming hoarse and broken.

Monica had never been the victim, she'd been strong, just the way she was raised to be. A shoulder, a sword and a woman strong of will and personality, a leader for the weaker ones. She was not one to cry in front of company. So, high up on the mountains, with only the light of that strange firey source behind that wall, Monica began to weep. She wept for her lover, she wept for the guilt she felt deep in her stomach at the dark deeds of her past, she wept for Carmen. She wept, because she had not wept in a long, long time, and despite everything- it made her feel slightly better about the whole situation.

[A crumpled ball of parchment is tossed down the darkened halls at the end of the light's reach. On it, some words are scribbled. "We are fools. I will fix this."]

[Boots]

Monica was certain she had been forsaken by her goddess. As if she wasn't paying for her horrible behaviour enough with the night terrors of the echoing sounds of dying screams caused by her hand, she now had to deal with horrible bad luck.

Some good things had happened though, amongst the bad, but the bad definitely outweighed the good. She was sitting in the camp, debating taking up drinking again, when a familiar face leapt off of the caravan, his dark eyes searching the camp desperately until they came upon her face and he threw his arms around her with cry. "Mon!"

The last time Monica had seen this man, they were underground in that basement with the tens of other gypsy families, laughing and enjoying life deep within Invidia. Now, he was half starved, beaten, and pale with fear. He had tried to escape, and only just made it. The others, as he went on to explain as Monica sat him down on the cushions and held his hand tightly, were not so lucky. They had made camp right on the border, thinking they were safe, when soldiers came and beat any who resisted. They had been sold, these people Monica knew as family and friend, as slaves. Even the elders and children had been sold. Nobody had been spared.

Though this did not surprise her in the least, she boiled with rage, and kicked the table nearby over, pacing with all the intentions of a large predatory cat. It seemed their troubles were not over by a long shot. And Thomas was hesitant to say the next words, staring up at his angry cousin. "-She- might be.. -" Monica cut him off immediately, not wanting to hear what he was going to say. But deep down she had that same, horrible gut feeling.

Carmen might be among them.

They set off immediately to track this company of men down and managed to find a few locations where people had been sold. A man in Har'akir showed Monica into a tent where several terrified Vistani children sat huddled together, staring up at her as if recognising her for a moment, until she put a finger to her lips to hush them. She took them out of that camp, the slaver wasn't interested in anything but money, and told her where she would find the other gypsies. Carmen, was not among the children in that tent. Monica was relieved, though her heart sank. If she was not here, then where was she?

With children on their hips and backs, Monica and her companions travelled back to the camp in the mists where Thomas, her cousin, had promised to look after the children for a while. The little Half Vistana waved over her shoulder to the children, reminded briefly of the orphan Nela back in Vallaki who would be expecting her to visit, soon.

Her daughter was the only child on her mind at that point. She would track down the rest of these buyers, and one by one, she made a silent vow to herself and the moon to rip them limb from limb until her family was safe again.

"Lunadi."

A violent nature is hard to push down, when it has always been a part of you.

[Boots]

Dorisa's face was anxious, as she passed a wax sealed wooden box over to the already fuming half vistana. Monica's tattooed hands pried it open, and the foul odor of old blood and days old flesh assaulted her nostrils. She began to grind her teeth, her knuckles going white as she saw what lay within.



There was no doubt about it. Monica knew that hand, she'd held it since it was only as long as her thumb. The bloodied lump of child's flesh sat limply, having bled all over a letter addressed to Monica.



They had slipped one of the trading company's signet rings onto the tiny finger that hardly fit the adult sized rings. Monica made a silent, lethal vow for revenge.
After she'd saved her daughter, that was.

[Boots]

Her companions were carefully chosen, this time. Though blinded by hatred and the need to find Carmen, the Half Vistana made sure each of them knew exactly what they were getting themselves into. There was Kolgrim, the dragon blooded master craftsman who had just given her the mouth plate he'd made for her, clipping perfectly over the top row of her teeth to give her the appearance of having silver fangs. Savagely but briefly baring of her teeth in the mirror, she felt a little more ready to face what would come. Then there was Rand and Zachary, and her loyal cousin Professor Hunter Locke.

A bag of heavy gold bars sat at the bottom of her pack, and as they climbed the mountain towards their destination, Hunter was oddly quiet, and Monica's mind was only on one thing. They reached the Bellegarde's office, where they were pointed in the direction of a vineyard, eventually coming across a small clearing guarded by hired thugs who stared them down as they passed, Monica and Hunter completely ignoring them. At the end of the clearing, behind a small army of Bellegarde agents and more hired thugs, a heart stoppingly still sack sat hunched over, balanced on the edge of the cliff. A snide looking woman rested a booted foot on the sack, ready to hurl it over.

"You are known for violence, and you've screwed our company over already. I'm not taking any chances this time, Monica. Hand over the Pearl and the money." Monica's words caught in her throat as she saw the sack. "Show them the child." The sack was ripped open, and a pathetically small little girl dragged out, her darling little face expressionless.



Monica felt her heart lurch at the sight of her daughter. Battered and broken, with swollen eyes. She suddenly wanted to throw up. Throwing the money and the pearl which she tore from around her throat to the man, she raced forward and crushed the little girl to her chest, letting out a dry sob as she held her daughter tightly; the agents and thugs quickly dispersing as they had what they wanted. "Mi nina.. no.. what have they done to you." But Carmen made no move to hug her mother back, or even respond to her. Her eyes were almost vacant, as if seeing something else entirely.

Monica checked her over carefully for any other signs of abuse other than the obvious, and it dawned on her that Carmen's physical battery was not the only form of torture she had been forced to endure. "She's only eight years old." Monica muttered to herself, pulling Carmen onto her lap with tears filling her eyes that soon began to spill hotly down her cheeks. She rocked her daughter back and forth, burying her nose into filthy, blood drenched dark curls that she had once brushed with pride until they shone. "Sing to her." She heard Hunter mumble from somewhere left of her.

She hummed the same tune she had sung to Henri to ease his pain a little, and as she rocked the battered child back and forth, for a brief moment- a little of the child's former self came to light as a single tear trickled down her bruised cheek from a swollen eye, and she looked up at her mother, weakly clinging to her, as the others left Monica alone with her for a moment.

"I-"

Monica stopped and choked back a wave of nausea. Carmen felt almost nothing like the girl she remembered. She was frighteningly light. An idle thought whispered through Monica's head, one that would linger for many years to come.

'What if.'

What if she had been there sooner.

What if she had watched over her that night while she slept on the Barovian border.

What if.

"I'm so sorry."

She whispered over and over again into Carmen's hair, as the barren cliff side's bitter mountain winds whistled past them on a journey that would quickly pass the heartbroken mother and her child. Someone, somewhere else, would feel that same air and know nothing of what transpired on that hill.

[Boots]

She was on a war path. The Bellegarde had begun something they never should had. Somewhere deep within Monica a rage more violent than any she'd had before awoke, the moment she looked at Carmen. A mother's wrath multiplied a thousandfold, a thirst for blood that she somehow knew would never be quenched even if she managed to remove this company from the core entirely. She stormed towards the gathered men outside who glanced over with smug expressions, and simply raised her greatsword in both heavily tattooed hands with a deranged look of absolute hatred.

Heads rolled and blood sprayed in thick torrents over the dusty ground. The villagers of Krofburg fled in terror from the violence. Everything was chaos, meanwhile-- a ways back from the slaughter, the paladin stood with his back turned. He wore a tense expression, garbed in pure and unbloodied white; protectively holding the child to his chest.

Monica couldn't stop, she just kept hacking, hacking away at every agent that came near her. When every man and woman lay dead and twitching, she cracked a boot to each throat with a sickening squelch just to make sure. Even Rand joined in. Hunter and Kolgrim fought by her side every step of the way.

It was almost unfair.

Yet no matter how many necks she snapped, no matter how much suffering she caused that day, the guilt and horror that ate at her from the inside never stopped. Because deep down, she had convinced herself.

It wasn't these men who had done this to her child.

Monica had failed the one soul she was meant to protect, and though her friends would tell her otherwise and insist she did everything she could, insist that the world was a cruel place where sometimes you could not do anything; She would never forgive herself for not being there when Carmen needed her. She was stubborn to the point of self hatred, and Monica's hatred burned so fiercely it was doomed to burst like a overburdened dam.

[Boots]

"Were I not afire, I would embrace you."

The blazing creature that was once a man loomed before his lover. His oversized hands swayed unsteadily at his sides, and even from her distance Monica could feel the powerful heat against her skin.

She wanted, with all her might, to take him into her arms and yell at him, make him realise that she could make it better, somehow. Though he only backed away when she neared.

"I am.. pleased, Monica, you've done it. Against all odds. You found her." His deep, gravelly words were interrupted by a violent fit of coughing, a noise that sounded like two boulders rolling together. "There is something I need you to do. Take the hoard. Give the entire hoard to Elias, and have him find Irene."

"You can find her yourself, Henri, when we fix this mess and you become yourself again."

"When the snake and the bird meet eyes, each know their role. Yet there is something in the bird. Something that drives it to seek the eyes of the snake. Fear makes the victim, Monica, and I am no longer afraid." She could have sworn she saw sadness in the vague shape of a face behind the dancing fires.

His words rang in her ears, as distant echoes and bells, and as the wagon began to roll away from the desert they sunk in. Monica screamed. She threw herself back off of the wagon and sprinted as fast as her legs would take her back into it's depths, her muscles burning, her lungs aching with the strain. In the distance she saw him, the blazing creature she loved.

She fell to her knees before him, drawing in a desperate breath, and felt the all too familiar feeling lately of tears welling in her eyes. "You can't give up. Not now." Monica would say all she could in argument, but she knew the truth. They would never find a cure for Henri's curse. He was beyond saving. And it was all her fault.

"I won't let you die." The flickering figure of what was once the man she adored, simply shook it's head, no.

"But I -love- you." In that moment of desperation, the words she had been dreading the escape of had slipped between her teeth in a hiss. She admitted it, in those final minutes in the middle of an empty desert, and brought light to something that while brief, soothed her battered heart for just a fleeting moment.

"At the end of every dream, we wake." Monica let out a violent sob of realisation, throwing sand to one side of her angrily. "Your love, and mine.. only keep us from acknowledging the truth. I died long ago, Monica. It's.. time to wake up. It's time." A wheezy breath escaped his cracking lips, as more of his crumbling body simply floated into the night air with swirling, sparkling embers. Ignoring the blistering pain that burned up her arms and was reflected back onto her skin, Monica drew him close, resting his head in her lap. "Look at the moon, my love. Look how peaceful the sky is." She murmured softly, tasting the salt of her tears.

"Don't be afraid." Came his response, a crackled, broken murmur; and she wondered if he was speaking to her, or himself. He shook with sickness, the magma like pools of his eyes closing slowly. He tried to speak up at the gypsy, whom held him gently, carefully- for fear he might break. "En- End-" He was unable to form the word she'd said to him often and in excitement for the next time they would meet. There would be no next time, now. His body had become cooler to the touch, the flames weakly flickering.

"Goodbye." Monica managed with a shaking exhale, watching as flecks of ash and soot drifted away from his body, slipping between her fingers. With a final, soft inhale, the fire ceased for good. Monica hung her head in sorrow, the dark ends of her curls brushing against his chest, and in her mind she remembered him the way he used to be. She closed her eyes, bending her head to press her lips to Henri's blackened ones. The way she had kissed the burnt corpse of her husband, Carmen's father- all those years ago in Invidia, a horrible feeling crept into her stomach at how familiar that kiss was.

As the desert sun slowly began it's ascent, bathing the dunes in the warm light of a new day, the last of Henri Janvier floated away with the dawn; and Monica, alone, and burnt badly, began her journey back to Carmen.

She had found a part of her heart these last two days, yet lost it at the same time.

"Endari-vitir."

[Boots]

The Azure Pearl had become more of a problem for the Society of the Hounds than Monica had ever expected that fateful night they pulled it from the pirate ship deep beneath the black waves of Blaustein; and the half vistana was tired. Very tired. So tired in fact, that she found herself wondering when the last time she'd slept was, and failing to remember. A treasure hunt turned into a hunt for something else, as she, Rand, and Dorisa were accosted within the cave, treasure in hand. But it was not the loot they wanted.

A strangely pale man, finely dressed and patient, stood at the front of a squad of hired thugs. Monica was becoming sick of squads of hired thugs- and spread his hands as he spoke eloquently. Something churned in her stomach as she watched this man, there was simply something.. wrong with him.

"Vampire." Her inner voice chimed, in warning. "Old."

She instinctively felt her tattooed hands tighten their grip on the greatsword. A vial of clear liquid sat in her left pocket, she felt it's weight there. It was just about picking the right time. She warned her companions, slowly, and in a whisper, as the Vampire raised his voice and asked:



"Not here."

"Then the location, I will have it."

"Now!"

Monica slipped a hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around that vial- hurling it violently at the well dressed man. It burned against his skin, momentarily distracting him and giving the three the time they needed to flee. Monica knew there was no fighting this creature if she had any hope of surviving, and with Dorisa in tow- and eventually Rand, she shoved her way through the thugs, knocking them aside and fleeing the caves to board the first ship she could throw money at a pirate to get.

They picked up Kolos along the way, a huge, hulking caliban Monica had some respect for. All was silent below deck as they sat around the table, waiting for the ship to anchor in Port-a-Lucine. A sinking feeling in Monica's stomach prompted her to speak up. "Rand, check on deck will you? Just.. make sure we're on the right course..." Lately, they had been having horrible luck with ships.

"Umm. The crew is kind of.. dead." Rand popped his head back down into the hold, pale. The sight the companions were greeted with was indeed, ghoulish. The dark waters had become thick with fog, heavy mists rolling onto the ship that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Every crew member, including the captain, had been slaughtered. They lay in large pools of their own blood, sightless eyes staring upwards in horror.

Weapons were drawn, and Rand raced up to take the wheel. Unable to see anything, Monica simply told him to sail straight on, in the hopes they ran into something, anything familiar. The waves were rough, and dark shapes could be seen moving in the water, perhaps a trick of the mists, but every now and then the ship bumped and rocked. With each heave of the boat, Monica's boots skidded and stumbled in the slick of the sanguine fluid covering the entirety of the deck, Rand reaching out to steady her. Noises came from the hull. Monica thought of Bluetspur with a shudder, imagining the crude stitching up her spine from the medical experiments of the Mind Flayers.

This foe, whether it is a good thing or not, but regardless- was not a squid faced creature. Groans and moans gave them away, as several shapes emerged from the darkness below deck. Ghoulish rotting hands outstretched, the animated bodies of long dead pirates and sailors reached out hungrily for living flesh, only to be swiftly cut down by a pair of greatswords. Rand and Monica looked at eachother grimly and nodded in understanding.
 
Suddenly, cliffs appeared through the mists, alarmingly close. "TURN! TURN!" Monica roared along with Kolos, clinging to the railing of the ship desperately in the hopes that she would not be thrown overboard, her boots continuing to slip and slide in the Captain's blood. Kolos bowled past Rand, gripping the wheel and spinning it powerfully, with enough force that they narrowly missed a painful death and softly crashed into the cliff face.

Water began to flood on board. Up they scaled, with a misty apparition of the Vampire appearing on deck. "Perhaps I will play with you a bit." From high on the ship, a raven cawed, an eerie sound in the silent waters.

Once they reached the top of the cliffs, Monica discerned that they were in no place she'd ever been before, and with Rand's help hauled Dorisa and Kolos over the edge so forcefully the two almost went flying. "We stick together, and find a way out of here. Watch out for f-" They were attacked by more cloudy undead, and hacked their way through the mists relentlessly, until they were finally bested by the hoardes. With an impatient sigh the Vampire flicked a hand and Monica's wounds began to close, she sagged forward in exhaustion, just about toppling over. "Now, are you willing to talk?"

Dorisa kept hissing words Monica dreaded to believe, that the raven sigil he wore meant he worked for the Beast of Castle Ravenloft, the count himself. It was revealed, that the Pearl the Hounds had been hired to extract from the bowels of the ocean had been stolen from his "Master." Monica felt her stomach flip over backwards. But she did not budge. She would not tell him where this Pearl was. "So be it." An oncoming roll of fog took his form away, and all was silent once more.

For hours they wandered the mists until they escaped, and Monica's bleary, tired and bloodshot eyes were forced to stay open just a little longer as she penned a letter to her cousin at the University, before collapsing into an exhausted heap, on the floor beside her sleeping daughter.

[Boots]

Where our dreams lap at the shore..

The dank and tiny Invidian cell reeked of the sweat, blood and filth of both her and it's previous inhabitants. A younger, more innocent Monica had forgotten how long she'd been in here. In her tattered dress, her ribs showed clearly against her bronze skin, hunger having pushed her to the edge. At home, she had a baby and a husband that no doubt by this point had assumed she'd been killed. A harsh sound clashed against the bars, rousing her from her thoughts..



"Rise and shine, princess..."

Back in the present, groggy, and disoriented, Monica lifted her heavy head from her position shackled to the floor of a much nicer cell in comparison. The Gendarme looked down at her with a mixture of pity and annoyance, and offered a cigarette through the bars. "Least I can do." Monica reached out with shackled hands, tattooed fingers placing the cigarette between her silver covered teeth with some semblance of a grin, if savage. A while later, the little gypsy was pulled to her feet and lead into a room where she sat, and the interrogation began...

The reason behind her even being arrested in the first place, was a little ridiculous. Monica of late had been spending more time with the horned, red skinned man known as Kolgrim, and had begun to develop something of a soft spot for him- as the poor bastard had been in the wrong place at the wrong time so often he had been present for all of the misfortune that had plagued her lately. Even Henri's last day alive.

She went to check on her daughter after a somewhat relaxing day with Kolgrim in comparison to the week's events, and found she was not there. The gypsy healer assured her she was in a safe place, yet would not tell Monica where they had taken her, which made her stomach turn. They went to find Hunter, back in Dementlieu after he had finished with his work at the University- and followed him into the public library, after picking up some companions that made her feel a little better. Whenever Vladimir was around, she was somewhat at ease, knowing he would protect her even though she was adamant she did not need protecting.

What started off as quiet research escalated violently into a double murder at the hands of Marjiana, Monica's lunatic friend, someone she had once enjoyed slaughtering at the side of. Now, her mind was less settled on bloodthirst, though they had remained friends throughout. As if materialising out of thin air once the bell was sounded, at least fourty Gendarme rushed into the library- and in a momentary lapse of judgement Monica attempted to distract them so that Marjiana could escape. The half vistana was forced into shackles, and thrown in a cell.

"Is this your first time in prison?"

Monica looked shifty.

"Take that as a no.." The thick gendarme interrogating her wiped at his bloody, broken nose- that Monica was responsible for breaking with an angry headbutt after being called a 'Filthy Gypsy.'

After listing off an extensive amount of petty crimes and past offenses, Monica was escorted back to her cell to await her trial the following day. She flopped onto her back with her shackled hands resting against her stomach, and drifted off to sleep- only to be roused hours later by the door creaking open once again, a hooded Gendarme looming over her. "You're being released into your cousin's custody.Hunter Locke." Relief but confusion flooded through her. "But.. trial- jail.. what?" "We have a cart waiting for you outside." The hurried way he spoke filled her with suspicion, but she followed despite her better judgement. As she ascended the steps leading out of the jails, she saw the chaos and bloodshed that had occurred above, various Gendarme too busy cleaning up the mess to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Once outside, she was brought to the back of a wagon and before she could make a run for it, two men threw her inside to crash onto her face, knees burning. She looked up, into a face she'd been praying she would not meet in this kind of situation. Hex stood above her with a smug expression on his sleazy face. "Welcome."

Somewhere inside her, as all hope of escape faded away with the sinking feeling in her gut, a little voice piped up with "This is the end." Monica slumped to her knees, shackled wrists burning, her only response a muffled angry insult- as the wagon thundered towards Barovia, through a vicious storm. She ignored their words, noting Dorisa among those in the wagon, which brought forth a burning, violent hatred. Hex came closer, briefly choking her with a hand- she mentally noted he was lucky she had been gagged and shackled. He whispered to her, calling her a fool, telling her she'd be fine. She did not believe him. They were taking her to her inevitable date with a hangman's noose.

Eventually, Monica did not know how long the journey took, they arrived in Vallaki  in the middle of night and were dropped off, where Monica was thrust into ugly ragged robes and dragged inside the gates- after Hex and the other two were paid the bounty. She looked back at Hex, scowling at the man, before setting her jaw and walking forward with the guardswoman.

"Don't look so nervous, you won't be here for long." The guardswoman chirped, leading Monica through the halls of tired garda into a dank room that reminded her of that cell she'd lived in so long ago. She lowered a thin, standing cage, and forced Monica inside, cramped up and stuffed inside such a small area. "Welcome home, Monica! Your date will pick you up tomorrow." The guardswoman laughed, as the echoes of her booted footsteps and the fire from her lantern illuminating the dark hall slowly faded off until Monica was completely alone in pitch black darkness.

The only sounds now were the drip, drip, dripping of the leaky roof and the quiet sniffling whimpers of Monica as she settled in for a long, uncomfortable wait.