Follow the road to Isenvlad

You follow the signposts pointing the way to Isenvlad. Worm follows at your heels, always a few steps behind, his little panting sounds annoying as he struggles to keep up with your long, graceful strides. For your part you wish you had worn boots without such heavy heels. The big, strappy boots match your vinyl goddess costume but are rather a bother walking a road - hardly more than a muddy cart path - for several miles. The dark forests recede as you ascend into the foothills of the mountains.

The road at last reaches a bridge over a chasm, a rushing river far below. On the other side the dirt road becomes cobbled and enters a small village that looks straight out of rural Europe...about five centuries ago. Worse, you don't see any telephone cables or much of any sign of modern conveniences. Doubtful you will find someone to rub your aching feet.

Ahead you see a filthy peasant dressed in dun-colored rags. He seems to be heaping root vegetables onto an ox-drawn cart.

"Mind yourself," you warn Worm. "I'll not be embarrassed."

Your heels click on the cobblestones as you approach the peasant. You wrinkle your nose at the foul aroma. He's filling the cart with clods of manure, not vegetables.

"You there," you say to him.

He slowly turns, revealing a pallid face marred by warts and general peasant ugliness. His smile displays teeth worn down to rotten rows sticking out unevenly from diseased gums. He removes his hat respectfully. He glances at the chaun picking its nose behind you, but if he cares he does not say so.

"Ingo, at your service, ma'am."

"I need a place to rest my feet," you say. "Perhaps have a bath, if clean water can be had in these parts. I would also like to use the telephone."

"Only telephone is up there," says the peasant and he points over your shoulder to the sinister gothic castle perched high atop the dark mountains. The peasant adds quickly, "I can take you if you wish."

"Mmm, maybe," you say, although it does look very far. "Is there somewhere to have a bath?"

"Yes ma'am. There is Olaf's just down the road." He points to a simple two-floor building with a shingled roof and uneven windows. Like all the hovels in this village it looks filthy and seems it should be condemned. Ingo continues. "Olaf and his daughter run a fine tavern. You could spend the night there if you would like to journey to Castle Vlad in the morning. It is getting late after all."

Ingo must think you are distracted as you catch him looking over the way the vinyl of your suit clings to your shapely body. You feel like slapping the wretch. Instead, you only glare at him. Though you would rather be gone from Isenvlad and, by extension, the island, as quickly as possible, you are frightfully cold and don't much favor the idea of climbing a mountain in the middle of the night. Perhaps Olaf's can provide a warm meal and better company than Worm and this Ingo fellow.