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Zane was raring to continue the fight, his adrenaline raging from escaping the slavering wolves — or maybe it was the appreciative attention Ireena was giving him for his valour in wrenching her out of Strahd’s virtual embrace. Luckily wiser heads prevailed.

Xarann looked to Viktor and Garn, who agreed that waiting until morning was the sensible option. Not knowing what was downstairs, the idea of escaping into darkness outside was not appealing. Zandeyr headed up into the bell tower and picked off wolves until they departed en masse, the entire pack giving Zandeyr the evil eye as they did.

Ireena retreated to a private room, glancing invitingly back at Zane as she closed the door, but, frustratingly for the young dandy, Ismark parked himself protectively outside her room. Everyone settled down to a restless sleep, constantly interrupted by the thumping, wailing, and begging from below the floor.

Viktor woke with a start at midnight, and was unsettled to see an eerie green light leaking through the boarded walls from the graveyard beyond. He quietly woke Zandeyr and both cautiously looked outside. The sight that met them was unexpected.

A ghostly procession of doughty greatsword toting women, woodwise men with bows, and archaically dressed mages was making its way from the graveyard toward the village. All were expressionless, but none looked to be Barovian in nature. Viktor turned to the still praying Donavich, who explained that it was the March of the Dead, a nightly event where adventurers who had died trying to destroy Strahd were cursed to forever repeat their fruitless journey to Castle Ravenloft.

---

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and you woke more or less ready.

Viktor and Garn spent some time talking with Donavich, who begged for the life of his son to be preserved. His prayers to the Morninglord had been ignored, and he pleaded for a solution. Viktor played good cop, and Garn bad, until the grim reality could no longer be ignored: Doru must die. Donavich collapsed onto the floor, his body limp, sobbing uncontrollably.

Preparations begun in earnest: window boards were removed and the doors flung open to let the sulky light creep in, Donavich was safely stowed in his office, and Ismark and Ireena were tasked with guarding him and the doorway. Positions were taken around the cleared chapel, and the ready signal was given.

Garn smashed the padlock to the undercroft and pulled open the trapdoor. A dank smell of damp clay and earth wafted up, as did absolute silence for the first time since you had entered the church. Everyone was holding their breath, but no sound emerged from below. You were going to have to go down there.

Carefully, slowly, Garn moved down the creaking stairway into the darkness below with everyone following behind. He quickly tossed a light into the far reaches of the basement, and you all caught a flash of movement as some…thing…hid itself again.

“I caaan smelllll yourrr bloooooood” it hissed. Garn yelled to Ireena and Ismark to close the trapdoor, and they shuttered it immediately.

---

Taking an educated guess, Viktor cast a burst of radiant light toward the creature, and was rewarded with a howl of pain and terror, the light burning the creature like a sharpened blade.

It jumped up to the ceiling and spidered its way toward the stairs at a furious pace, screeching at the followup bolt of light from Viktor, leaping to land on Zandeyr and tearing at him in a frenzy of starvation. It wrestled him to the dirt floor and sunk it’s teeth into his shoulder, drawing and drinking blood for the first time in a year.

Garn, seeing Zandeyr needed to be freed quickly, took a huge swing of his hammer with all the vengeful fury of Yutow behind it. There was no Peacebringing in this blow as it collected Doru full force and flung his broken body into the wall behind.

Xarann scorched the creature and wall with a flaming bolt of fire, drawing more screams from the sorely injured creature. Zandeyr clambered back to his feet and let loose an entangling arrow, which immediately trapped Doru inside a mess of clawing vines.

This was Zane’s cue: he calmly leapt up the stairway, somersaulting over the crowd, drew his two blades of cold steel, and plunged them deep into the trapped creature. And once again it was silent.

Zane called for the trapdoor to be opened, and Ireena looked in naked lust as the dual wielding hero emerged before her. She took his hand, and led him directly to her chamber to see if his third sword performed as well as the other two. They weren’t seen — but were heard — for some hours.

Viktor led the cleansing and blessing of the dead body (and the subtle severing of the head with his butcher’s skills), with the shocked but relieved Doravich assisting. Doravich looked like a man from whom a huge burden had lifted. He even promised to take up the cause of the Morninglord again in the cursed town of Barovia.

---

You all withdrew to the Burgomaster’s mansion and recovered as best you could. Ismark greeted you the following morning with some news: he wouldn’t be able to continue the journey to Valalki with you. Now that his father was buried, he was the Burgomaster of Barovia, and it was his sacred duty to care for the people of this desolate township. You nodded understanding, and vowed to deliver Ireena safely.

The group departed soon after, deciding that a visit to Madam Eva was in order — she had some explaining to do. Garn wisely decided to enlist the help of the Vistani in the Inn, and Sorvia was only too happy to assist.

As he negotiated, you noticed a very, very, elderly lady pushing a cart of steaming hot pies down the main street. A couple of local men darted across the street — moving faster than you’d seen any Barovian move — and purchased two pies. A small girl accompanied them, and the woman seemed to prick the child quick as a flash, but the child barely reacted and the crone moved on.

---

She called to you, tempting you with the offer of fresh pies. and the smell was indeed tempting. Zane looked hungry, and asked her name — Morgantha. But as he was weighing up a purchase, you noticed one of the men slowly slipping down a nearby wall, not dead, but also not of this world for the moment.

Ismark shook his head and explained that the pies were a way of escaping the grim reality of everyday life. He recommended not partaking, though he didn’t think there was any long term harm that would come of sampling them. The crone shrugged her shoulders, and invited you to visit her at her home if you changed your mind — an old windmill on the road to Vallaki.

---

After farewelling Ismark, you moved on, leaving the town with Ireena and Sorvia, who was surprised to be in the company of the Burgomaster’s daughter, but made no judgement either way.

On the journey to the camp, she explained that the ravens found throughout the land were to be trusted, unlike the crows, wolves, and bats. Under questioning from Viktor, she claimed that the ravens carried and delivered the souls of the dead to their new bodies. And, disturbingly, she said that there weren’t enough souls to go around…

She also confirmed that leaving this land was only possible for the Vistani, and no other — and suggested only Eva could tell you why.

After an hour of travelling, you reached a crossroads at the junction of which stood a set of gallows, creaking in the chill wind blowing from the mountainous ground above. A small graveyard sat behind. Sorvia directed you down the northwest rocky trail toward the Tser Pool.

As he descended, Garn glanced back, and was horrified to see a figure now hung limp on the gallows rope. As he watched it swung slowly around, and he found he was staring at his own face, hanging dead. He stifled a cry, but everyone else only saw an unknown body. Garn swallowed deeply and pressed on downwards.

You emerged into a clearing in which stood five colourful tents pitched around a ring of four barrel topped wagons. A much larger tent stood near the shore of the lake with unbridled horses drinking from the crystal clear water. The wheezing strains of an accordion accompanied some robust singing of a group of Vistani sitting around a bonfire. The burst of colour and life was like a salve to your weary souls, and the group of well lubricated singers invited you over enthusiastically.

Tempted though you were, there was a reason you were here. Sorvia directed you to Madam Eva’s tent, and you pulled aside the curtains to enter. Eva sat in front of a velvet covered table, on which a deck of Tarokka cards sat. She cackled with delight as you entered, her voice like dry weeds: “At last, at last! You have arrived!”.

You were less pleased than she, and proceeded to probe her about how she had misled you. She denied everything, and convincingly. No one had forced you to come here, it was your choice. Each of you had followed the temptations she laid out in your initial meeting. When you produced the fake and original letters, her eyes shone with delight: “A trap, a delicious trap! But the substance my dear boys, the substance is the same: Help us, please, help us. Would you have said no if you had seen the original first?”

After arguing around in circles, she slowly became more serious, and you drew from her the reasons the Vistani could come and go as they pleased. An ancient debt was owed to the Vistani by Strahd, and the reward he granted was freedom to come and go as they pleased. She said she could sell you some potions that might let you do the same.

But ultimately the only way to leave was to destroy Strahd himself. When pushed about whether that was something she wanted, she only turned her head toward Ravenloft, before returning a stony eyed stare. She broke the silence with a sudden offer.

If you wanted to get our of Barovia, you were going to need help. And she was in the fortunate position of being able to assist! Pointing toward the Tarroka deck, she rubbed her hands and laughed with glee: “Let me read your fortunes…”

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Meta

Level up! You should all now be level 4.

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Session played: 18 March 2019