Maestoff sat silently in the forest clearing. The middle watch felt exceptionally lonely. The fire had burned out to ash and ember. The dim red glow provided no real light, it was little more than a reminder of the contrasting darkness surrounding him. He ran his fingers over the inside of his shield. Seven fresh tally marks were carved above the arm straps. Seven infernal things he killed since he came to this strange land. He could take some small reassurance in that. He had killed before, yes, but before he left that tavern with Slate in search of Barovia, he had only faced off against common thugs and the occasional beast. His old master, Bromm taught him about the undead and infernal beings that shared this plane of existence yet to see one.. To drive a blade into a walking corpse and see no reaction, no blood. He felt around for one of the bottles of wine and popped the cork. The wine flowed red. He was glad to see not all hope was lost here.