Chapter Text
Rudolph Van Ricthen, the greatest monster hunter of his generation, had one last foe to slay.
His curse.
"All who are closest to you will fall to monstrosities"
Or at least, so he thought. Our friends had known that the real challenge was his fear of this curse that haunted him. Rudolph was just too stubborn to notice.
So, little by little, Ezmeralda convinced him that since she was strong enough to slay Strahd with the help of companions, that she could handle any claws the curse brought her way. To do so she had to write many,
Many,
Many,
Letters to insist that the monsters should fear them, rather than the other way around.
So sometime prior, he decided to test this "theory" and arrive early for Samhaim in the Emerald Hills. First, he would interact with strangers in a friendly matter (as much as he could manage), then the strange friends he met last year. And if The Emerald Hills were still intact by then, he would muster the courage to hug his daughter by choice: Ezmeralda.
That morning, Rudolph struggled with his patience. At a crossroads, he pondered a four-foot tall post with many signs, all written in the Halfling tongue. If the almost-too-blue sky and amber fields and distant crimson forests said anything, he was certainly in the Emerald Hills. This place is partially hidden from "tall folk" deemed to have ill intent.
Van Ricthen had correctly assumed that this was some powerful, ancient magic. Luckily, Rudolph had hidden his "monster-gear" in a lead-lined chest, in some hidden compart in his wagon.
A halfling farmer noticed his confusion, and strolled over. The man's balding head barely reached Van Ricthen's middle, but he had seen enough funny tall folk to know that this one was no threat.
He gestured with his hand, which held a lit pipe, in greeting and smiled. "Down here, sonny," one old man said to another. "Which way are you tryin' to go?"
Van Ricthen looked down. "I am searching for the residence of an Artemisia Greenwood. Do you happen to know her?"
The farmer leaned his hand against the post, and raised an eyebrow at the tall stranger. "Do you think we small ones all know each other?"
Rudolph felt his pulse raise. "I did not mean to offend-"
The farmer bawled. "I'm just fucking with you! Of course I know about the Greenwoods! That strange girl and her friends were town gossip all year! I just like messing with you new people."
Behind, Rudolph heard his horse scratch at the earth and snort in boredom from this pause. He took a deep breath, and continued:
"So, good sir, could you kindly direct me to the Greenwood residence?"
The farmer shifted so that his back leaned against the post. "If you're a friend, wouldn't she give you the address? You're not one of those Barovian characters, are you? You're all so strange." He said in between puffs of his pipe.
Van Ricthen did have the Greenwood address, but Artemisia did not give him directions for once he found himself within the Emerald Hills. He told her that there was no need. Rudolph had studied the Halfling language once, it's true. But that was an embarrassingly long time ago, and he only now realized how little he could read it.
Besides, he never thought he would risk paying a visit.
Rudolph blushed under the shadow of his hat brim. Before he could reply, he smelled something earthy from the old farmers' pipe.
"...Are you smoking fucking weed right now?"