She groaned as Eranah's magic flowed into her, swollen knuckles popping loudly before subsiding. She straightened up a bit with more loud, uncomfortable-sounding pops that made Lily wince, a brightness coming into the woman's features.

"Keldanor, I'd forgotten what a good bit of healing feels like. You're an angel, lass." She looked Eranah up and down. "I meant that in a figurative sense, but looking at you I think it might be true literally." She shook her head, a smile crossing her face. "And aye, I'd be Crissie Hopestone. So. You're Mist-Taken." 

Miss Hopestone leaned on the bar. "Time was I was a young traveler like yourselves, blazing paths through the dark places of my own world. I imagine my story's not so different from your own - you're not the first Mist-Taken I've met. I was in a huge cave, scouting ahead of my companions when thick white clouds poured through gaps in the floor and walls and surrounded me, and when they faded I was in this old ruined chapel, a long ways from here in Barovia. That was an ugly night."

"Which brings me to my first piece of advice: When night falls in this land do -not- be traveling. Find a safe place and lay defenses before the last rays of day fade." Hopestone stared each of them in the eye. "Now...as for how or why you came to be here...I'm afraid I don't know. The Mists are part of it, I'm sure. They can be seen often enough in this realm, and I attempted to escape twice by deliberately charging into them. Both times they took me, but they only placed me somewhere else in this world." She glanced around and leaned forward closer. "They say that the vagrant people called the Vistani know the paths in the Mists. I don't know where you can find them, it's said they're cursed to wander forevermore for their sins." Her eyes narrowed. "The Vistani are not to be trusted, though. Even the best of them will steal your cloak as soon as look at you, and for many that is the least of their crimes. One of their caravans came through Fairhaven four winters past, and when they departed three village girls had vanished. Most people around here forgot when the war came."

She cleared her throat, then picked up a bottle of amber liquid and poured herself a glass. "What can I get you? I owe you a drink for listening to my babble, and especially for the healing."