[hr][center][@JohnSolaris] [b][color=maroon]Zaerith Dustborn[/color][/b][/center][hr]The formerly red-eyed dire wolf sheds its guise like a grotesque mockery of an insect’s molting, bits of flesh and sinew sloughing off its body to reveal a far more monstrous form underneath. Alas, ‘tis not a construct piloted by a bee after all. The sight quickly becomes almost comical again to Zaerith for an altogether different reason, as his gaze is drawn to its bloated, sphere-shaped chin. Looks like something the Jester would have cooked up… Ah, but the Jester would have given the thing a beard. Not on the exaggerated chin, of course, but further down. On its neck, perhaps. No, no, this isn’t good; he needs to take this creature seriously, especially as he fails to recall whether he has encountered anything like this before. Truly a convenient thing, his memory.

As the horrific caricature of a beast finishes its transformation, it opens its mouth wide, but no sound comes out. In fact, Zaerith can hear no sound at all, not even the sound of his own heartbeats or breathing. The Vistani… He did this. As he witnesses the pale man in chainmail flinch and grit his teeth, Zaerith can surmise what the magical silence must be for. Whatever the creature’s roar might have sounded like, it could not have been pleasant.

…and before Zaerith can do anything, the figure who had helped them slay the wolves earlier flings a sphere of dark green energy from atop her cliff, the magic striking the beast squarely before it has a chance to dodge. The effect is immediate, the details of which Zaerith would rather not describe. Suffice to say, it looks even worse than the creature’s transformation process earlier, and he can smell it from even this distance away. How unfortunate that he never bothered to learn the basic wizardly Prestidigitation; the two armored warriors of the party may have to live with the honor of being decorated with the thing’s spilled guts. A sad fate indeed.

As the newcomer approaches, Zaerith takes the opportunity to have a more careful look. A woman, human-looking, but dressed rather more extravagantly than most travellers he’s seen. But what really draws his attention is the subtle presence of scales visible on parts of her body, their green hue a bit too vivid to be likely to be from anything other than dragons. And the magic she displayed earlier… Dragon-blooded sorcery, perhaps? A question for another time, assuming this woman will assist the party on their quest to “save” Strahd von Zarovich. A prospect that is not too unlikely, as she appears quite familiar already with their Vistani guide. “Lady” and “Heiress”, he calls her, as well as the presence of the old man that appears to be an attendant of some sort, addressing her as “Mistress”. Hmm…

A few others in the party have begun conversing with the newcomer, but Zaerith does not volunteer. Small talk is not worth the effort, and information will only be divulged when he deems necessary. Instead, he takes this time to analyze the combat capabilities of his recently-gained allies. The pale man is clearly a wielder of divine magic, but his armor and weapon suggest that he is less priestly and more the holy warrior who smites so-called evil. The eccentric puppeteer, on the other hand, appeared to do no more than glare at the wolves, yet they recoiled with obvious pain. A practitioner of the poorly-understood psionic powers, perhaps? The elven woman is easy; he recognizes a warlock’s eldritch blast from anywhere. Lastly is their Vistani guide, whose swift strikes and spells from the battle earlier makes him warier than ever. Once again, he doubts why they need people like him if they themselves are already so strong. This Lady Eva of theirs had better have a good explanation ready…[hr]