Deciding who should sit atop Vallaki’s throne,
Lady Wachter can watch no longer,
Executed in her home,
Baron Vallakovich’s power grows stronger.

Surprising to witness,
Declaring who should be left,
Determining fitness,
Over life and death.

Such is the way,
Of our strange cursed land,
Games of chess always played,
Directing fate’s dark gloved hand.

The deed is done!
Now plans must be made,
The dragon’s lair awaits,
To find a sword mislaid,
In fair Barovia!

Having settled Vallaki’s politics to your liking, you finally decided it was time to move on. Retrieving the artefacts that Rictavio had pointed you to seemed the best next course of action, and Argynvostholt the closest destination — and the Sunsword the most tempting reward.

Back on the road, you were reminded just how gloomy and forbidding Barovia’s forested paths could be. Thick trees hung close, and the dense undergrowth showed no sign of life or movement, only the occasional raven or crow perched above gave any hint.

After several hours of subdued march, you reached a crossroads that directed you toward you destination. Following the path south west led you into denser woods and a greater sense of unease. Ahead you could see another crossroad turning South, toward Argynvostholt.

As you approached it, the air grew suddenly chill and darkness covered the sky. A screeching flock of crows swept down and amongst you, and when they moved off a man stood in front of you. It was Rahadin, Strahd’s chamberlain, and 30ft behind him stood Strahd’s carriage.

Rahadin bowed and greeted you, professing his pleasure at once again making your acquaintance. He said his master had an offer to make, and queried if you would be willing to hear it. You concurred, and Strahd himself stepped out of the carriage and approached. Your stomachs dropped as his dark power washed over you.

He complimented you on your progress through his lands, and expressed his surprise at your recent killing, telling you it had been some time since an adventuring group had done something unexpected — a pleasant turn of events for him. He was interested in what you would do next.

“But I am not here to discuss your deeds, fascinating though they are. I have an offer to make . One that some of you,” and here he turned his eyes to Viktor and Zane in turn “…may be very interested in taking.

As you know, fair Ireena is to be my bride, aren’t you my dear?”

Ireena clutched Zane, whispering “help me” into his ear, as she started to move involuntarily toward the dark lord. Zane stood firm and moved in front of Ireena, who cried softly into his back. Strahd smiled.

“An offer. I understand you are both missing someone very dear to you. Someone who it is within my powers to return to you. All you need to is give me Ireena in turn, and she is yours.” At this, he held his hand open toward the carriage, and for a moment you could glimpse the veiled figure of a woman sitting in the back seat.

Orange haired young woman

Thomasin Kurrsk

Viktor froze. With a jolt, Zane turned to his father. “Dad? Dad?? Is that…I thought you said she was dead?!”. Viktor didn’t say a word, staring hard at Strahd, his jaw clenched like steel.

“Ireena for her. It’s your choice”.

You could all see Viktor’s entire body straining with fury and terror. Zandeyr broke the spell when he started babbling about Strahd being a cruel master, forcing an impossible choice, how could he call himself a just ruler — when Strahd waved his hand and silenced any further discussion.

“I sense you aren’t yet ready to decide? Very well. Please, call on me when you are — you know where I am.”

And with that, he and Rahadin strode away. As the carriage moved off, the veil fell from the woman’s head, and you caught a glimpse of a shock of orange-red hair. Tears welled in Viktor’s eyes as the carriage disappeared. Zane stared at his father, confusion and hurt in his eyes, before turning away and setting off south down the road. The rest of you shuffled uncomfortably, realising now was not the time, and followed soon after, with Viktor still silent.

Some time later you arrived at the edge of large clearing on a quiet promontory. In the middle of the clearing a sepulchral mansion loomed, turrets capped with cones and towers lined with sculpted battlements. This was a castle meant to be defended, and it had clearly withstood many assaults, but was now crumbling in disrepair.

Stone castle with dragon statue

Argynvostholt

You approached cautiously, though all was still and quiet. Perched atop a 10ft square of granite was a moss covered statue of a dragon, wings tucked close, looking East toward the mansion entranceway. Zandeyr identified the status as a Silver dragon, of great nobility. This cheered you somewhat, the memory of the Silver dragons working with the legendary Stormwatch in the great battle against Tiamat.

White marble statue of a dragon

Argynvostholt Statue

(As usual when Stormwatch was mentioned, there was some scepticism expressed by the likes of Xarann and Garn as to the fabled band’s true skills. Zane quickly jumped to their defence, professing to have written them a letter admiring their feats. They even wrote back offering for him to join ‘Young Stormwatch’, for a token annual fee, in return for which he would receive a badge and other benefits. Bannor scoffed while labelling the legendary Marko ‘the worst thief ever’, raising Zane’s hackles even further, but before things could become heated Viktor called everyone to order.)

You made a reconnaissance of the exterior of the mansion, noting the crumbling battlements to the South, and a graveyard in the North East corner. Evening had arrived, so you setup an encampment and rested restlessly for the night.

The following morning you first tried to enter via the graveyard, Zandeyr doing the scouting. Several disturbed graves caused you pause, as did the discovery that what had appeared to be a chapel in the evening turned out to be a mausoleum in the morning, the word Argynvost carved over the entrance. As he withdrew, Zandeyr caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure looking down from a high window before disappearing behind a drawn curtain.

The front entrance beckoned, and you moved up the steps to the massive doors. As you stepped onto the landing, the dragon statue opened it’s mouth and exhaled. A cone of cold — but not freezing — air blew over you. You froze in place for a moment, before relaxing as you realised that whatever magic was involved had long since faded.

Opening the doors, you entered into a huge foyer that felt like a king’s tomb. A grand staircase led up to stone balconies, and a faded tapestry depicting a nobleman in faded armour hung from the landing. Busts of handsome men sat on four pedestals, and huge wrought iron chandeliers hung overhead.

Vicktor lit them with a flick of his wrist. As he did, you all saw a great shadow with wings move across the walls, and heard a soft bestial hiss emerge from beyond. Zandeyr decided that this was a good moment to announce your arrival. “Hello! Hello? HELLO!”.

The rest of you reacted with horror, quickly taking up defensive positions. “HELLO WE COME IN PEACE”. Xarann called out to the group to beware, as he expected whoever arrived was going to prove to be a challenge. And he was right.

From the doors to the East you could hear the clanking of armour and drawing of swords. You stood ready as three figures emerged into the room, heavy longswords in hand and the remnants of chain mail hanging from the gaunt figures. Despite their withered appearance, they moved with purpose and strength as they moved to engage you.

A fierce battle followed, the three warriors proving more than a match for the six of. They used the room cleverly, and attacked precisely and with a plan. They occasionally bellowed that Strahd would never defeat them, and they would never rest, but efforts to calm them proved futile as they attacked single-mindedly.

Eventually you secured victory, though it hung in the balance for some time. You stood panting, three bodies at your feet. This sword had better be worth it…

Session played: 8 July 2019