Curse of Strahd
Chapter Fifteen: Ravenloft
Into darknessAnd thus it comes to this,
The final journey,
The final fight,
Strahd’s evil you will dismiss.
Life,
And death,
Controlled with malice,
From the depths,
Of Strahd’s diabolical palace.
Your purpose clear:
To save the land,
To save the people,
To save the ones that you hold dear.
Ahead your final destiny,
Your greatest challenge,
Your legacy.
It’s another fine day,
In fair Barovia!
You stood at the threshold to Castle Ravenloft, at last. The peaks of the keep stood high in the cloud covered sky, the rest hidden behind the stone battlement that surrounded the castle.
An early start from your encampment at the ruins of Old Bonegrinder had let you arrive shortly before a desultory dawn. In front of you stood a weathered drawbridge that spanned a chasm thousands of feet deep. Two huge guard towers on either side joined the 90ft battlement walls.
Viktor turned to you all. “Gentlemen, it has been an honour. Now let’s get this done.”
Rain started to drizzle down as you prepared to cross. The wooden bridge looked mostly secure, hanging from two huge iron chains, but there were patches of green moss and slippery timber. Bannor headed out first, seeking a secure crossing, and safely made it to the shelter of the guardhouse. The rest of you followed, cautiously trying to pick out the same path. Flashes of lightning overhead made this harder than expected, and during one particularly dramatic bolt, Xarann found himself slipping through a breaking beam.
Zane, following close behind, lunged forward and managed to grab Xarann’s arm as he started to fall. Behind Zane Garn had also seen Xarann start to fall and to too leapt forward to help - only to trip over his own feet and start to tumble over the edge of the sodden bridge. Luckily for him Ezmerelda was also alert and managed to grab onto the belt holding the Sunsword and stop Garn from toppling over the edge.
With both Garn and Xarann held suspended above certain death, Zane let out an urgent plea for help: “Dad!”. Before long, and with some undignified crawling, everyone was safely huddled under the guard towers. Not exactly the entrance you had planned.
Zandeyr looked back at the decaying drawbridge and made a mental note. “When I take over I must get this thing fixed.”
Across the courtyard you were surprised to see the entrance to the keep stood with doors open, warm light emerging from within. 50ft above the doors was a cracked leadlight window in the shape of a rising sun. Zandeyr, looking forward to the promised meal, strode out toward the welcoming light calling out “Hello! We are here - hello!”. Viktor hissed at him to stop, and to keep quiet. “But we are here for dinner,” Zandeyr complained. Viktor had had enough. “There will be no dinner, there will be only death.” Zane jumped in to confirm: “We are killing everything that moves, unless it runs. Even then we are probably killing it.”
Zandeyr looked disappointed, and slightly confused. But he shrugged his shoulders, and peeled a patch from his jacket. He tossed it to the ground nearby, and instantly two mastiffs appeared. The immediately fell in behind Zandeyr, joining the Hellhounds. Zane stared at the four hound retinue with grim resignation: it seemed that being accompanied by a kennel of canines was inevitable.
The rain started pelting down as Bannor cautiously started making his way around the barren grounds, avoiding the obvious entrance for now. On the South side, a wall with a 20ft tall portcullis barred the rear of the building, and this was mirrored on the Northern boundary. There being no obvious means to open either, and scaling the battlements being impossible, the front door seemed the only option.
Bannor approached slowly, every sense at high alert. Flickering torches within showed a 20ft square entrance foyer with a pair of double doors opposite. Bannor checked for traps and noise, but found nothing, and waved everyone onto the landing. Inside you could see four carved dragon statues perched atop plinths, staring toward the centre of the room.
Stepping slowly inside, Bannor couldn’t find any trap mechanisms, but as he reached the halfway point of the room the inner doors flung themselves open. Inside a large entrance room stood, torches blazing and illuminating a massive von Zarovich sigil laid in intricate stonework on the floor. In the rafters high overhead, eight stone gargoyles stared down, faces impassive, amidst thick cobwebs and dust. From somewhere nearby an organ played a melody of tragedy and dread. A grand velvet lined staircase climbed up to the left, a corridor led to the left, and a pair of double doors stood opposite.
You moved into the room slowly, waiting for the gargoyles or dragons to attack, but nothing changed. The organ music was coming from the right hand corridor, so you quietly set off in that direction. Another pair of closed doors stood opposite another corridor leading to spiral stairs heading up and down. A highly polished suit of armour watched the closed doors, evoking memories of the animated armour from the Death House and van Richten’s tower, but closer investigation showed it to be harmless.
The music was coming from behind the closed doors, and it swelled as you listened. Zane slowly, slowly, opened the doors, to reveal a lavish feast laid out on a long table, with sumptuous food and wine ready to be devoured. A place was set for each of you.
And opposite the doors at the far end of the room sat Strahd von Zarovich, back turned to you as he played a huge organ set into the stonework of the wall.
His virtuoso playing swelled to a crescendo as you entered. A blazing fire burned inside the room, and you were horrified to see van Richten’s jaguar strung up above the flames, nailed to the wall with legs outstretched, recently dried blood running down from it’s carcass. Ezmerelda cursed under her breath at the sight - she immediately knew this meant it was very unlikely van Richten still lived.
Strahd stopped playing and turned to face you. “Welcome honoured guests, welcome to my home. Your visit is long past due and I am grateful that you could join me. Please, sit, relax, we have prepared a fine meal for you.”
Zandeyr bowed. “Thank you! I have been looking forward to this for some time! Before we partake, may I offer you this gift? I have had it made up specially for you.”
“But of course, my scholarly friend! A gift is something I treasure, they being so rarely given.”
While the rest of your stood in fear of Zandeyr’s seeming madness, Zandeyr walked to Strahd, gave a small bow, and handed over the furled portrait he had commissioned. Strahd accepted the gift graciously, before carefully unrolling it.
He smiled widely. “Why, it is a perfect likeness! And with your crown, and sceptre, it is almost as if you are assuming the position of royalty. I am touched - though I must ask, is it my throne you wish to assume?”
“No! Of course I would never presume,” Zandeyr replied. “It is merely a…projection of the power I feel within, and which one day I hope to embody.”
“Well, I too hope your dream may be realised. And again - thank you. Now please, let us sit and break bread together, as equals.”
Zandeyr immediately sat at the head of the table opposite Strahd’s place, as befits one of his stature. He reached for some of the meat on offer, before Viktor put a hand on his shoulder to still him. Everyone else stood not moving, nerves on high alert. Ezmerelda moved into the far corner, and Bannor faded into darkness as best he could.
“There is no need to be afraid, or cautious. You are guests, and guests are always safe here. I promise no harm will come to you whilst you are with me. Sit, eat, let us talk as gentlemen and gentlewomen.”
Still no one moved, except Zane who took a few steps closer to Strahd. Strahd sighed. “Well. I understand your hesitation. We have not been on the best of terms, recently. But that is all behind us now, I trust you would agree. I have what I want, and you have what you want,” he said, looking to Viktor. “So it seems only right that we call a truce to our jousting, and discuss greater matters.”
Garn looked at Viktor. His eyes asked the question everyone was thinking: do we just attack him right now? Bannor had made his way around the room to be standing against the wall behind Strahd, and Zane’s fingers were poised above his pink hilted rapiers.
Strahd continued his pontificating. “You have made great, and permanent changes, to this land. Some I admire, some less so, but what is life if not change? I have invited many to Barovia, and none, not a one, has had the impact you have. So I applaud you.”
You had heard enough. There was no signal, but suddenly everyone sprung into action. Garn drew the Sunsword and blazing sunlight flooded the dimly lit room. As he lit the weapon, nearby Xarann cried out in pain and surprise - the light was burning his skin like fire. It seemed his newfound vampiric Dark Power extended to vulnerabilities too.
Bannor appeared out of the shadows and planted a vicious shiv into Strahd, drawing a glare of surprise from the dread Lord. Zane sprinted forward and slashed thrice with his rapiers. You were disappointed - but not surprised - to see that after each cut Strahd’s skin seemed to heal itself. But seeing him once again barely flinch under Garn’s lightshow was disturbing.
Strahd sprung up onto the wall and climbed to the high ceiling, looking down at you as he did. “This is most disappointing,” he calmly spoke. “I ask you here as guests and you react with hostile intent? Manners and etiquette are a lost form, it would seem. And where did you get that weapon, my friend? I had long thought that hilt destroyed, and yet here it is.”
Xarann spoke a few arcane words and a tangle of vines wrapped themselves around the vampire, sending him falling to the floor bound in their spindly arms. As he fell, Ezmerelda and Zandeyr fired several bolts and arrows into his torso, and Garn thundered forward.
Suddenly Strahd burst free from the entangling roots, shattering them. He sprung across the table and seemed to almost fly over Viktor, thwarting his planned attack. In mid-air, the vampire lord transformed into a cloud of mist before vanishing into the corridor outside.
Viktor spun and rushed out to follow him, but there was no trace of Strahd - just the leering gargoyles and flickering torches.
You caught your breath, cursing that he’d got out of your grasp. Ezmerelda expressed dismay at how your blows - all which should have been telling - seemed to come to nothing.
You were caught by surprise when Zandeyr, picking up and eating a sliver of what looked like pickled cabbage, replied with sudden clarity and insight. “This was just the entrée. Our fight here is not a sprint, it’s a marathon - we need the heart, we need him in his coffin. Have you not read my writing, or the discoveries in the Tome?”
Zane responded quickly, “Two things - I can’t read, and I thought you were insane.”
“I am not insane, and you really should learn. We have one purpose: find that heart.”
“Zandeyr is right,” Xarann said. “The heart is the key, we must destroy it to have any hope of defeating him.” Everyone realised the truth in these words.
You started searching the room carefully, and Viktor soon noticed parallel scratch marks in the floor tiles near the organ. It appeared that it might somehow pull out from the wall. Xarann sat down and tried to replicate Strahd’s melody, with some success, and soon he realised that there was a single pedal that was not being used. Treading down on that, the entire organ slowly shifted forward into the room, revealing a hidden passageway behind.
Slipping inside, Bannor found a guard post with arrow slits facing the courtyard. There was also a strange collection of dozens of mirrors, piled up in a dusty pile. Bannor picked one up and checked his reflection - still eyeless - before flashing it at everyone else. When he pointed it toward Xarann nothing reflected back.
Another corridor led from this room to a circular staircase leading upwards, but you decided to head back into the main hall and check the rest of this floor before heading anywhere higher - or lower.
Opening the double doors from the foyer revealed a long hall, smothered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. It was clear no-one had been down this passage for some time. Standing in alcoves on each side were ancient statues of holy warriors. Viktor noted some were clearly marked with symbols of the Morninglord. Zandeyr studied them carefully as you walked behind Bannor down the hall. He cleared the double doors at the end of the passage, and Zane and Garn pushed the doors open.
Inside was a chapel. Streaks of pale morning light illuminated boarded and smashed stained glass windows, and the pews were scattered around and covered with layers of dust. A few bats screeched in the rafters high above, and a high balcony above looked over the scene.
A emaciated male corpse was slumped on the alter in the apse, dressed in a dark fur cloak. One hand dangled above a jet black mace that had fallen to the floor out of his grasp.
Viktor uttered a quick prayer before advancing to the figure. Whoever it was had been dead for a long time, and thankfully wasn’t coming to life as he approached. The mace seemed to absorb the feeble light, and dark runes could be seen traced on its surface. Garn cast a quick spell and confirmed that it was magic - and that it was also emitting an aura of evil.
From this room two passage ways led to stairs, a circular set leading up and down on the south side, and a regular set leading up on the north. You decided to climb the south side to see where it took you. It didn’t take long to realise that this stairway was one of the three spires of Ravenloft that pierced the sky.
It was a long climb, Bannor estimated at least 400ft, and eventually you emerged onto the tower top. You were rewarded with a view over all Barovia, with the namesake town thousands of yards below. The roofs of the castle lay below, and you could see the other two spires nearby. There didn’t seem to be any way to cross to them from here. The centre of this spire was hollow, a 20ft wide tunnel leading straight down. Dank and fetid air rose from the dark tunnel, you assumed from the catacombs below.
You made your way back to the chapel and headed to the other steps. Before climbing them, Zandeyr called one of the bats to him and questioned it. He tried to get it to tell you where the heart lay, and the small creature eventually seemed to indicate it was somewhere to the North. Zandeyr also tried to find out where Strahd could be found, but the best he could get out of it was ‘below’. The bat and its companions were rewarded with chunks of fruit Zandeyr had pocketed from Strahd’s feast.
The second set of stairs led to the balcony above. In the centre of the platform there were two thrones facing the chapel, and in those chairs two human figures sat deathly still.
Zane walked quietly toward them, discovering that they were similar to the zombies you had fought in Vallaki. Everyone prepared as he moved closer, and when they suddenly sprang to life you just as suddenly returned them to unlife.
Another pair of doors led from this balcony, and a low moaning could be heard from within. Opening the doors revealed another long dark abandoned hallway, this one completely empty. Bannor made his way carefully down it toward the doors at the far end. When he reached the half way point, there was sudden sound of stone grinding on stone, and a high pitched screeching noise. A dark figure flew down the hall toward Bannor, cape flying and long claws extended.
Bannor flung himself down to avoid the flying creature, who flew over 10ft above the ground. It raced toward the rest of the party, who drew their weapons ready to fight. But the apparition didn’t engage, and you watched in confusion as it reached the end of the hall, slowly rotated around, and flew back before disappearing. You shone lights into the rafters, where some kind of pulley mechanism was revealed. It seemed that Strahd - or more likely one of his minions - liked to play small carnival tricks on visitors. It was bizarre, and out-of-step with what you expected of Ravenloft.
The next doors opened into another corridor with more doors opposite. At either end of this corridor were two skeletons hovering in mid air. Having just experienced one trick, you were ready for this and Zane tugged on the foot of one of the mannequins, pulling it clean off.
These doors opened into another large mostly empty chamber. The smashed stained glass window you had seen above the entrance was here, rain leaking through the broken panes. The only other feature in the room was a throne on a platform at the south end. Curiously the throne faced away from the bulk of the room - perhaps the occupant liked to focus only on the supplicant at hand, instead of the throngs waiting their turn.
Zandeyr walked straight to the throne, irresistibly attracted like a moth to a flame. He was about to touch it when Bannor noticed and yelled at him to wait. Zandeyr paused long enough for Bannor to make a quick check, then he grabbed the throne, spun it around to face the party, pulled out his crown and sceptre, and sat gently down onto the faded velvet seat. He looked pleased, and at peace.
Viktor and Ezmerelda meanwhile ventured down the matching pair of stone steps, confirming that they joined up with the carpet-lined steps you had seen in the entrance hall. Between the split steps two huge armoured statues stood, clutching maces with dragon-head faces.
Back up in the throneroom, Zandeyr had climbed down from the throne - and left his implements of rule resting on the chair. He looked around, then spoke with a new clarity. “We’re wasting time. The longer it takes to find the heart, the more chance Strahd has to recover. Let’s go.”
There was a lone door in the East wall of the throneroom, which Bannor secured and Garn pushed open. Inside you were surprised to see an elderly man, scratching away at what looked like a huge ledger of rolled paper that spilled over his desk and onto the floor. The floor of the room was largely covered in piles of ancient books and paper, and three chests stood against the South wall. Next to the man a tasselled rope hung from the ceiling, and a closed door led South.
The man didn’t pay you any mind when you cautiously entered. Garn cleared his throat, and the man sighed. “Yes. What is it? You can see I’m busy here.”
“Indeed. And what is it you are busy with?”, Garn asked.
“The ledger! The books. Surely that is obvious.”
“Obvious to some. Tell me, why are you doing this? And for how long?”
“Why? Why?? Because it must be done! And as for how long, why I have no idea. Longer than you have lived is all I know, young man. Really, you are wasting my time with such inconsequentiality. Please leave.”
Garn pressed. “It seems to us that you must be helping Strahd with his work. And we are sworn to put an end to all those that help the devil.”
“Enough! I am merely a working man, employed by my master, like any other. If you do not depart immediately I shall be forced to call for assistance”, the main said, waving his hand in the direction of the rope - which he suddenly noticed had been swung out of his reach by Zandeyr, who had crept around to it during the discussion. The man looked worried about this development.
“Why do you not leave, if as you claim you are not sympathetic to his cause?”
The man looked around. “I cannot leave. There is work to be done. And… if I were to try, I would not make it far. Not that I would want to!” At this, he leapt desperately for the rope. Zandeyr pulled it out of his reach with ease, and Viktor stepped forward to put an iron clad boot on the old man’s chest.
“What is inside these chests?”, Garn asked.
“You would steal from on old man?! You are nothing more than petty thieves! I have no idea what is inside them,” he gasped. “One of these books has the answer, if you would just let me up!”
Bannor sighed and approached the first chest. It appeared untrapped, but he had to spend a minute to solve the locking mechanism. When he did, he found thousands of copper coins within. The next chest had a similar amount, and the third was filled with gold.
The final chest contained platinum, though Bannor it didn’t seem to fill the cavity correctly. A quick search revealed a false bottom, and inside that was an ancient looking leather-bound book. The title inscribed on the cover read Manual of Bodily Health: Being a guide to better living.
Viktor indicated to Garn to let the man up, asking “What lies beyond this door, old man?”
“Stairs.” the man said shortly as he dusted himself off. “Up. And Down.” And with that he sat back at his desk, picked up the quill, and continued writing as if nothing had happened.
You quickly scouted the stairs down, which led to the hall opposite the dining room. Moving up instead, you arrived at a small landing. a door of delicately engraved steel stood in the West wall, seeming to glow with a light of its own. Flanking the door, two alcoves seemed to hold man-shaped figures, shifting slightly.
As you moved the light toward the alcoves, several swarms of rats suddenly unfolded from the shapes, and rushed past you and down the stairs, leaving only piles of detritus where they had ‘stood’.
At the door you could smell something dank and unpleasant from the room behind. Zane carefully pushed the door open. Dust and a sweet pungent smell of decay assaulted your lungs and breath. A long oak table stood in the centre of the room, blanketed by dust that covered the fine china and silverware. In the corner of the room a lute and tall harp stood, both shrouded in cobwebs.
In the centre of the table a large, tiered cake leant heavily to one side, the once-white frosting turned green with age. A single doll of a well-dressed woman teetered on top of the decaying cake.
Zane immediately moved to the lute, and was surprised to find it was rather a fine instrument and in perfect condition under the dusty coating. So fine, in fact, that he replaced his own with this new one.
Bannor searched the floor under the table, and found a matching groom for the bridge atop the cake. He was surprised to realise that it bore more than a coincidental likeness to Zane - just as the figure still atop the cake resembled Ireena.
Two doors exited this room. The first, on the North wall, led to a lavish study. A fresh fire blazed in the hearth, and ancient books and tomes lined the walls - much to Zandeyr’s delight. The leather seats were well oiled and preserved through careful use, and a thick luxurious rug covered the floor. Even the poker in the stand was polished to a fine lustre.
Hanging over the fireplace was huge painting in a heavy, gilded frame. The rolling firelight illuminated the carefully rendered portrait of a woman in a courtly finery: an almost exact likeness of Ireena.
Zane stared at the picture for a moment, then spun around back to the room with the cake. He flung open the Northern door, stormed inside, and stopped dead in his tracks. The room was some kind of bath chamber, evidenced by the bath, but the bath was full to the brim with blood, slowly oozing over the porcelain edge and onto the tiled floor.
Zandeyr followed Zane inside, and being of a more investigatory nature, walked directly up to the bath and stuck a finger in.
The bath exploded, showering everyone in dark red blood. Some kind of ghastly entity shot up out of the tub onto the ceiling, more blood dripping from gangly arms and long tangled hair. It shrieked and spidered out of the room through an arched doorway. Zane ran after it and it shot ahead through the opposite arch, back into the main room - where it vanished.
You were all on high alert as you searched for the creature, but it did seem to have completely disappeared.
Shaken, and blood soaked, you opened the double doors that led East out of this room.
Inside was a silk canopied four poster bed, with a large and florid “Z” carved into the headboard. Lying amid the velvet and satin sheets and bedclothes was Ireena.
Zane was on the bed and holding her before anyone else had taken a step inside the room. He held her close and looked into her face. She was deathly still, her skin cold, and no breath emerged from her pale lips. A bite mark on her neck confirmed Zane’s worst fears.
He looked around at everyone, uttering a quiet plea. “Help me”
Garn quickly moved over and applied a healing spell, but Ireena stayed unresponsive. Zandeyr tried to find a pulse, and Bannor tested his mirror for any sign of breath, but there was nothing. Viktor put his hand on his son’s shoulder, supporting Zane’s growing grief.
Suddenly Zane felt a single pulse on his cheek, resting on her chest. “She’s alive!” he cried. Zandeyr grabbed her wrist again, but again he could feel nothing. Zane swore it was true, and a minute later felt the tiny weak pulse again. But no-one else could sense it.
Viktor suggested everyone leave the room, giving Zane and Ireena the space to try and forge their connection anew, and for Zane to reach her wherever she drifted. You all withdrew to the study, faces long in anticipation of the truth Zane couldn’t face: Ireena was not coming back.
Some minutes later, Viktor returned. Zane lay next to Ireena, who was still and silent. Viktor uttered a silent prayer of passing before steeling himself to speak with Zane.
In the study, Bannor and Garn talked quickly. Both had the power to restore life to the dead, but were unsure if Ireena was truly gone. Garn believed his power was meant for some other purpose, and Bannor was unsure his abilities would help.
Ezmerelda was eavesdropping and interrupted, speaking directly to Bannor. “Use it. You may not get other opportunities, and you of all people aren’t the type to die wondering. This is her only chance - if we don’t take her now, she is his plaything for eternity.”
Bannor looked at her and nodded. He strode back into the bedroom, stilling Viktor and moving to sit on the bed beside Ireena. Zane looked at Bannor with eyes almost an empty as Bannor’s sockets.
Bannor rested his hands on her shoulders, dropped his head, and called on his dark power to return Ireena from whereever she was held. For a moment nothing happened. Then Bannor felt a surge of energy flow through his hands, a current of pure life that knew no bounds.
And Ireena lived.
She heaved in a breath and her eyes flashed open. She saw Zane and threw her arms around him, their embrace full of urgency and relief. After a moment, Ireena whispered something into Zane’s ear. “I know how to destroy him. I know how to remove the curse.”
Zane looked into her eyes and knew she spoke true. “What must we do?”
“I cannot tell you, but you will need to act when the moment comes. And I know you will do the right thing,” she smiled. “Tatyana revealed the secret, or I did. I have always been her, and she me, and all of my lives have led to this. We can do it Zane.”
Zane nodded solemnly, before hugging her again. He turned to the gathered group. “Stop staring and start moving.”
A plan was made to keep Ireena always surrounded by defenders, she being too weak to fight due to her ordeal. There was one exit out of the study to the North, which you opened to reveal a short corridor with a glowing red opening to the right and a darker one to the left.
Moving carefully forward, you checked the left opening first, and were rewarded with the sight you had been searching for. Above your heads, some 100ft away, was a huge pulsing crystal heart, each beat shaking the tower in which it floated. A thin wooden staircase wound up toward the heart, rickety and unsafe due to the shifting movement of the heartbeat.
You briefly stared in awe, before developing a plan to deal with the heart. Xarann started preparing a slew of lightning spells to direct at the crystal, while Viktor and Garn started moving up the stairs. Vitkor intended to move to the top, whilst Garn held the middle ground.
In the corridor, the rest of the party checked the other direction. The ceiling here had been smashed in, leaving puddles of water and broken wood. Lining the corridor were alcoves, and standing in those alcoves were stone statues of men and women. They looked down at you solemnly, and when a bolt of lightning lit the corridor their stern visages were twisted into screams of terror and horror. At the end of the corridor stairs led down, so you retreated to the entrance to the heart tower and set up a defensive stance.
Viktor had reached about half way up the tower, his tread sure on the ancient wooden steps. He signalled to Xarann, who unleashed the first of his bolts of pure lightning. It rocketed up the tower and crashed into the heart, creating a renting crack down the centre of the crystal.
As soon as the bolt struck, Viktor saw at least 10 halberds detach themselves from the wall of the tower and start flying toward both him and Xarann. Viktor made a quick decision that the destruction of the heart was more important than his own immediate safety, springing his wings and flying in a beeline to the heart, through the oncoming blades.
Garn moved down to defend Xarann from the halberds, as did Ezmerelda and Bannor. Soon flying blades were being countered with hammer blows and counter strikes, and Viktor took several hits as he reached the heart and started pounding it with thunderous blows. The tower shook with anger, but Xarann and Viktor refused to lose their focus.
Xarann, seeing the blades approach, suddenly vanished in a cloud of mist, reappearing next to Viktor on the steps. He summoned another enormous strike, and the bolt flew into the heart and shattered into thousands of shards of blood, showering everyone in a coating of dark red heart-blood - except for Bannor, who leapt out of the way.
Xarann and Viktor yelled out in triumph, but their glee was short lived as the corridor group cried out warning - several vampire spawn had appeared from the far stairwell and were racing down the damp corridor. Zane raced down to meet them head-on, and Zandeyr sent his dogs to do the same. All of his dogs. Zane was used to this now, however - his had almost mastered his fear of the canine. Bannor protected Ireena until Ezmerelda arrived, then he too moved to engage the vampires.
It didn’t take long to take care of them, helped by Garn unveiling the Sunsword again (after checking Xarann was still out of range). Several nasty wounds were taken though, particularly by Zandeyr who seemed to be a favourite target of the vampiric bites.
There were several wounded among you now, so you retreated to the bedroom again, planning to try and briefly rest before proceeding. Destroying the heart gave you all a surge of hope, as did Ireena’s newfound knowledge. If you could quickly recuperate, it would be time for the final press toward Strahd himself.
It was a good plan for a while, but in the middle of your rest Bannor (who had discovered that one of his eyes had returned - something to do with the ‘spell’ he had cast) roused you all. Something was approaching the room from behind the bed. You prepared quickly, and suddenly a hidden panel sprung open and three vampire spawn clambered through.
They didn’t last long thanks to Bannor’s alarm, but you also realised that there was to be no more resting. Onwards - and downwards.
You took the stairs the spawn had come up, presuming that they had likely been drawn from the catacombs below. Disappointingly the stairs only descended a single story to a small corridor with a lone door. Zane opened it quickly, revealing a room with four silk shrouded four-poster beds, and a lone woman humming and sweeping as she moved around the chamber.
On seeing Zane she opened her eyes wide and dropped to her knees. “Please master, please, save me! Take me from this place!”
Garn pushed Zane aside, took one look at the woman, and pulled his hammer back to strike. “Nooo, please, I am but a cobbler’s daughter, stolen and trapped here! Help me!”. Zane held Garn back for a moment, but Garn said simply, “Vampire”, and smashed her with a devastating blow.
Viktor pulled out the Icon of Ravenkind, and used some of its power to completely disable and freeze the spawn where she fell. He pulled out a stake to hand to Ezmerelda, but she was already pushing past him, and planted her own stake into the creature’s chest, causing it to instantly disintegrate.
“Let’s move,” she said. It was business time.
Bannor searched the corridor and very quickly found a secret door in the Northern wall. It opened into a extremely neat and well maintained wood-panelled room. Nothing was out of place, and a small desk stood with an open diary. On a bookshelf behind the desk there were many more similar volumes neatly stacked. Zandeyr thumbed through the diary quickly, and determined it was almost certainly that of Rahadin. There were references to the recent battle in Vallaki, though from the chamberlain’s telling, the fight was rather dry and hardly a defeat for Strahd. In fact it claimed victory - retrieving Ireena having been the goal, albeit at the unfortunate cost of several of Strahd’s vampire consorts, and many dozen zombie fodder.
The room seemed to have no exits, but Bannor had no trouble revealing yet another secret door, this one opening to a set of old stone steps leading down into darkness.
You cautiously moved down the stairs. They led to a series of small chambers, perhaps old barracks, with yellowish mould growing overhead and piles of ruined furniture scattered about. This area opened into a larger room, which contained smashed and shattered armour and weapons, some of which were embedded in the stone walls, as if an enormous wave of brutal energy had forced them into the stonework. You hated to think of what had happened here, and to the occupants of the crushed armour.
Another set of steps led further down, pitch black with a damp, dank, deathly aroma seeping up from below. This surely was the access way to the catacombs, and, you hoped, to Strahd’s lair.
Before proceeding, Zane wanted to check the sole doorway leading from the room - “leave nothing behind”, he reminded you. He opened the door and almost immediately shut it again. Behind it was a room made entirely of bones. A huge bone table, bone chairs, a hideous bone chandelier, and horrendous bone sculptures adorning the walls. The room emitted an aura of pure horror, despair, and futility. Viktor and Garn looked inside and both were physically repelled by the malevolent desecration within. Somehow going down the ominous stairs seemed safer than entering that room.
And so you descended into the darkness.
The stairs led down and turned to the South at a landing. Bannor stepped onto it first, and the moment he did a sickly mist appeared lower down the stairs, coalescing into the devil Strahd himself. He hovered in mid air and spoke, eyes burning red with fury. “You venture now where you are not welcome. Whatever gods you believe in cannot save you now.” And he vanished.
Ignoring the warning, you continued down, the air growing still and fetid as you travelled deeper below the surface. The stairs opened to a thirty foot square room with a high ceiling. A stone brazier burnt fiercely in the centre of the room, its tall white flame producing no heat. The rim of the brazier was carved with seven cup-shaped indentations spaced evenly around the circumference. Within each indentation were spherical stones, each made of a different coloured crystal. Two nine-foot-tall iron statues of knights on horseback, poised to charge with swords drawn, stood in deep alcoves facing each other, the brazier sitting between them.
Overhead, a huge wood-framed hourglass hung ten feet above the brazier, suspended from the ceiling by thick iron chains. All the sand was stuck in the upper portion of the hourglass, seemingly unable to run down into the bottom. Written in glowing script on the base of the hourglass was a verse in Common:
Cast a stone into the fire:
Violet leads to the mountain spire,
Orange to the castle’s-peak,
Red if lore is what you seek,
Green to where the coffins hide,
Indigo to the master’s bride,
Blue to ancient magic’s womb,
Yellow to the master’s tomb.
The room sent everyone into some kind of panic - a puzzle! A complicated puzzle. There was a lot of discussion about what to do - the recent threat from Strahd already gone from everyone’s mind. The potential location and advantage of each colour was debated, eventually settling on the idea that Indigo was probably a way to get to Tatyana, Blue sounded tempting, and Yellow probably right on top of Strahd. Indigo seemed most tempting - but first you thought to check the three doors leading from the room.
The first two, in the North wall revealed stairs up, one spiral and one straight. The Southern door opened to a huge velvet curtain that completely covered anything beyond. The smell of brackish water was even stronger here. Bannor very, very carefully examined the curtain, eventually declaring it safe before slipping through the opening in the two drapes.
Beyond them he found two thrones facing a large open chamber, similar to the observation balcony in the chapel above. The chamber was flooded with water, with dark low shapes thrusting up out of the pool. The ceiling was festooned with hanging chains. Closer observation revealed the shapes in the water to be instruments of torture: racks, iron maidens, stocks, and other horrors. Skeletons of their last victims lay within them, jaws frozen open in silent screams.
You left this disturbing scene behind, minds recoiling at the kind of ‘royalty’ that would sit upon thrones whilst watching their captives slowly driven mad with pain.
The middle North steps led to a sharp right turn, and a rough hewn tunnel beyond. The surface was slick with moisture, and the ceiling barely 6 feet high. Bannor determined that this was a relatively new addition to the castle - less than a century old - perhaps created to avoid the flooding lower down. Fog flooded the tunnel, making visibility very difficult.
Garn and Bannor took the lead and worked slowly down the long corridor. When they had travelled around 60 feet, both of them felt the ground beneath them suddenly give way, and before they could react they were sliding down a slick and steep chute. They emerged in mid air, splashing down into a pool of water in some kind of cellblock. Bannor immediately started trying to pick the lock of the door of iron bars.
Upstairs in the tunnel, the rest of the party quickly worked out how the trapdoor mechanism worked, and Zandeyr hammered a spike into the mechanism to jam it open. A rope was lowered down the slope, and Garn grabbed hold of it at the other end. Bannor successfully opened the cell, but beyond he could only see more cells and a barred door. Climbing back up seemed the best option - never split the party.
Before long everyone was regathered. You pressed on, more cautious now, and reached a rough door at the far end. Zane slowly pushed the door open.
Beyond lay an enormous chamber, arched ceilings supported by wide, low columns, with dozens of crypts spreading into the deep darkness. The ceilings seemed to be writhing, and cobwebs hung limp in the musty air. A thick fog clung to the floor, which was covered in putrid waste. A deep sense of death and foreboding filled the huge room.
You had finally reached the long-forbidden catacombs of Ravenloft.
Zandeyr was of course unperturbed by the ominous chamber ahead. He leapt into the fog, determining the ceiling was covered in what must be tens of thousands of bats - hence the filthy guano-covered floor.
Xarann studied the first crypt, finding a chiselled stone ‘door’ covering the inner chamber. On the slab there was an inscription: Artista DeGronf: Court Ceiling Painter. This sounded innocent enough, but you needed to find out what these crypts contained - if each housed a vampire or zombie, things were going to be a difficult.
With Garn’s help, the slab was shifted to the side. Inside, the domed crypt ceiling was painted with a faded image of imps holding bouquet’s of colourful flowers. A skeleton draped in rags lay atop a marble slab, a wooden box tucked under a bony hand. Xarann carefully removed the box and opened it, and inside were several wooden handled paintbrushes and some gourds of dried up paint. So far so innocent.
The next tomb was similar: Lady Isolde Yunk: Purveyor of antiques and imports. Another skeleton lay within, surrounded by piles of worthless looking antiques bric-a-brac.
More interesting was a iron-barred entrance to the North. Polished marble steps beyond it led down into a chamber, but the bars weren’t easily shifted so you moved ahead through the crypts instead.
There seemed to be rows and rows of crypts, with between 3-5 per row, each separated by 10 feet gaps. Viktor organised the party into several groups so you could start moving together down the rows, calling out as you did so, and gathering to examine any of particular interest. You decided not to open any more unless they appeared to pose a threat.
In the North-East corner, behind a solid looking door embedded in the walls instead of the chamber proper, Garn discovered the first crypt you would need to come back to: Saint Markovia: Dead for all time. Garn was shocked to see this - Saint Markovia, arch-enemy of Strahd, who had fought him tooth and nail before being defeated, was buried in Ravenloft?
Viktor uncovered another interesting inscription, Tasha Petrovna - Healer of Kings, Light unto the West, Servant, Companion. Could this be one of the vampire consort you had killed at the Vallaki killing grounds? Zane found a similar one a little further on reading simply Sasha Ivliskova - Wife.
Bannor earmarked the tomb that read Khazan: His word was power, thinking that the ancient architect’s tomb may contain something that could help you in the coming confrontation. So too the tomb of Artimus (Builder of the Keep) - Thou standest amidst the monument to his life
The further you moved into the chamber the more threatening it felt. There seemed no end to the crypts, and the darkness closing behind you as you moved deeper felt ominous and dangerous.
After passing 20 or so tombs the layout changed slightly. Instead of the 10 feet wide corridors, there was a 20 foot gap before the next row of crypts. In an opening to the West was a circular staircase heading up, while at the other end in the Eastern wall a 20 foot wide polished marble stairway led directly down.
In the row of crypts facing this corridor, Xarann found the most disturbing crypt so far. The stone door of this crypt had been carefully laid to one side. Through the swirly mists of the perpetual fog, freshly engraved letters spell out the words Ireena Kolyana: Wife. Xarann shuddered reading this, and quietly called Viktor over to see who grimaced. Zane, who was glued to Ireena, looked toward his father and their eye contact told him everything.
And this was the moment everything started to go wrong.
Zandeyr, standing with his back turned to the Northern stairs, suddenly felt something wrench his head aside and bury teeth deep into his neck, ripping at his flesh. He reeled away in pain only to find whatever it was that attacked him had vanished into darkness. Simultaneously Zane felt a huge beast lunge into him, scratching claws down his torso. He too spun to find nothing there, just a glimpse of something huge and winged fading away into the shadows.
Both Zane and Zandeyr let out a cries of warning, and everyone drew their weapons and prepared for attack. But all was silent. Garn quickly called out to everyone to gather at the Southern steps, creating a defensible point. Rushing down the steps, you had to quickly draw to a halt when you saw two huge statues who seemed to be defending the room beyond, a soft blue curtain of magical light flowing between them. Crossing that threshold seemed like a bad idea.
Just as you realised your mistake, a fireball shot down the corridor behind you and exploded in the midst of the gathered group. Flames scorched everyone and made breathing impossible. Viktor yelled for everyone to separate into the nearest corridors, to limit the attack vectors.
Garn, Ezmerelda, and Bannor sprinted off to the North, while Viktor, Zandeyr, Zane and Ireena headed to the South. Xarann vanished in a cloud of mist, taking his ethereal form to avoid the attacks and try to position himself to retaliate.
Again there was no sign of the foes as you edged forward, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Suddenly a bolt of lightning emerged from the darkness at the far end, striking all of those in its path with shocking pain.
Garn had the Sunsword ready as he rushed away toward the crypt of St Markovia, gambling that help could be found there. Bannor ran to Khazan’s tomb with similar hope and ripped it open, seeking power within - but there was only another decrepit skeleton on a slab. Ezmerelda took the adjacent corridor and nodded to Bannor - he felt a surge of inspiration at her confidence and they started advancing in parallel.
Viktor was working down the centre corridor when he sensed an attack coming from his right, and suddenly Rahadin appeared and swung hard with his vicious scimitars. Viktor could hear the voices of thousands of dead pressing down on his mind, the screams of those Rahadin had killed in Strahd’s name, but he fought off the wave of dread with a prayer to the Morninglord before crunching his hammer into Rahadin in response.
Zandeyr reacted quickly to the appearance of the chamberlain, sending his dogs, hounds, and arrows in to assault Strahd’s chamberlain.
Behind them, Zane again felt the shadow creature emerging and swung at it instinctively, dealing but also absorbing several brutal blows before it faded away again. Several spectre-like creatures appeared during the fighting, one lashing out at Zandeyr, another at Viktor, both fading into nothingness before they could be attacked in return.
Panic started to set in as you felt you were being weakened and unable to identify or even find your foes. How could you fight an enemy you could not see?
Garn reached Markovia’s tomb and rushed inside. The crypt smelt of roses - which made no sense but was a nice change - but the whatever remained of St Markovia had disintegrated - except for a lone thighbone that rested atop the marble slab. Crestfallen, Garn grabbed the bone - and a ghostly form appeared above the dusty remains, so faint he could barely discern more than part of a face. “The vampire must be destroyed,” it whispered, “Use me as your weapon.” Then the apparition faded away - and Garn felt a surge of great power from the bone he held. He instantly knew that this was St Markovia’s thigh, and it had the power to destroy vampires. He rushed out of the room, holding both weapons aloft in triumph, calling out with righteous fury as he ran: “They will all burn!!”
Hearing Garn’s cry, everyone rallied. The shadow creature reappeared to join the attack on Viktor, but the moment it appeared so did Xarann, who unleashed a debilitating volley of freezing missiles from his staff. The creature shrieked in pain, just as Ezmeralda arrived to further torture the beast with magical steel. You had finally trapped it, some kind of winged demon that seemed to be acting to assist Rahadin.
Viktor struck several telling blows against Rahadin, as did Zandeyr’s magical arrows while his pets ripped into their victim. Bannor shivved Strahd’s servant deep in the kidneys, drawing a pained curse from his target. Rahadin retaliated against Viktor, but he was suffering from the wounds that had been inflicted on him.
Zane and Ireena were working their way to the North when Zane finally saw the foe you were searching for. Dread Lord Strahd appeared at the far end of the corridor, emerging out of the darkness with a sinister smile on his pale face. “You have taken her from me again, but this is the last time. Prepare to meet your end, my young friend.”
Zane knew Ireena was Strahd’s target, but had a plan of his own. He suddenly - but gently - shoved Ireena into her own tomb. If Strahd wanted to get to Ireena, he would have to come through everyone else first. Zane closed the distance between himself and the Devil Strahd with the speed of one greatly wronged, unleashing every ounce of his hatred and fury into the vampire lord. He was delighted to see his rapier attacks seemed to finally be having some effect, slicing, dicing, and wounding Strahd as they fought. Zane yelled out to call everyone to Strahd: nothing else mattered now you had found him.
Viktor heard the call and disengaged from Rahadin, rushing toward his son. Zandeyr saw the opportunity had arrived to use his final Dark Power. He pointed a long bony finger at the chamberlain and a bolt of deathly power scorched into Rahadin, sending him sprawling, dead, against a crypt wall. Zandeyr wasn’t done though. Maintaining the dark connection, he commanded the dead elf to rise again, and Rahadin slowly climbed back to his feet. Zandeyr felt his understanding of the undead reach a new depth as he commanded his new zombie elf to move toward its old master and attack.
Garn arrived in a flood of light and finished off the demonic shadow creature with blows from both his sword and bone, freeing Bannor and Ezmerelda to rush toward Strahd. Xarann released a volley of frozen destruction toward Strahd, who spun in a fury and retaliated in kind. Strahd had lost both his allies, and was doing everything in his power to destroy you. You were all focused on Strahd now, burning through everything you had to slow him down and trap him.
Viktor moved with great purpose toward Strahd, eyes blazing as he felt the might of the Morninglord flow through his soul and into his hands. He stopped beside Xarann, focused on Strahd, and called down the power of light, the power of faith and belief, the power granted by his love of Thomasin and his son, and growled out a single word: “BURN”
The crypts were suddenly bathed in holy daylight, a blazing force that even the dread lord Strahd could not counter. He shrunk beneath the brilliant light. His centuries of preparation had not prepared him for this.
Not for the Morninglord personified in a humble man.
Nor for one once lost now driven by purpose, holding aloft a sword and thigh also long lost and now avenged.
For an incorrigible thief, who had found his heart still beats.
For a soul seeking family and finding it here, now, with these strange companions who had showed loyalty beyond blood.
For the old scholar who had but one adventure in him, and had spent every moment fulfilling that dream.
And for a boy-now-man, surprised by love.
The vampire Strahd burned beneath the light, skin smoking and eyes aflame, collapsing to his knees, falling to the floor, writhing, silent. You had killed him, finally.
But in that moment of triumph, you noticed another figure lying prone on the floor beside Viktor.
Xarann.
In his fervour, Viktor had forgotten his ward’s new vulnerability, and the blast of light that had finished Strahd finished Xarann too. Viktor fell to his knees by Xarann, pleading for help.
The Dark Powers were pleased. “We warned you about the third time. Now you are ours. We have something that you must do. Our power here is threatened, which is…unusual. You shall be our weapon to stop this threat. The woman, Tatyana, Ireena, she knows how to stop us. So you must stop her. Now go.”
Knowing you had no time, Bannor used his last power to bring Xarann back. Bannor was surprised but grateful that it worked given the grim “third death” prophecy you all knew Xarann was under. Bannor’s other eye returned at the same time as Xarann drew breath again, and Garn quickly healed him enough to get him on his feet again.
Strahd’s body had fallen to ash, but a small cloud of mist rose from the remains, and started drifting to the darkness to the West. Recalling Ezmeralda’s words, you knew you had to somehow reach his coffin to finish him - and use Ireena’s knowledge to break the curse forever.
You hurried after the floating mist, following it through more crypts and passageways, until it reached a set of black marble steps secured by iron bars. The bars wouldn’t budge until everyone joined in to lift them inch-by-inch, getting it high enough for Garn to wedge his dragon-shield under the barrier.
You rushed down the steps and into a large crypt. The essence of evil permeated the air, and the smell of freshly turned earth overwhelmed you. Settled into the dirt in the dead centre of the room was a shining black coffin of finely waxed wood, with fittings of polished brass. A stylised “Z” in deep red and gold was inlaid in the closed lid.
You gathered around the coffin, tense but ready, and Garn pulled the lid aside. Inside lay Strahd, eyes closed, deathly still. In repose he seemed almost regal.
Ireena looked toward Zane, who nodded. “Everyone move aside. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’re going to do it.”
As Zane spoke, Xarann suddenly ripped one of the scars from his skin, breaking the flesh seal and hurling a bolt of lightning across the room and into Ireena.
Zane cried out in despair as he rushed to catch her fall, and Viktor spun toward Xarann in shock and dismay. Xarann’s face was in agony from the self-inflicted wound, and maybe something deeper. He looked to Viktor, almost pleading, but Viktor had no choice - he swung his hammer of wrath down on his apprentice, killing him for the second time in as many moments.
Zane held Ireena as she shuddered from Xarann’s blow, but he could feel her drawing strength from his embrace. She hauled herself to her feet, shaking off the discomfort and pain. Her face was set in grim determination as she walked to one side of the coffin, indicating Zane should stand on the other.
She held out her hands to Zane, and Zane took them in his. The warmth of her life force flooded into his as she locked eyes with him, and spoke three simple words.
“I love you”.
Zane blushed, but didn’t look away. “That’s very nice of you to say. And I…I love you”
Below their joined hands, Strahd’s eyes slowly opened, full of despair and longing. A tear rolled down his face as the dark orbs of his eyes withered and sank into his face, and slowly his corpse deteriorated into dust before you. Soon nothing remained.
Something changed in the air of the crypt, something lifted, as if a dark veil had been pulled aside. Garn moved to Xarann’s side, and used his dark gift at last to raise your fallen comrade once again. Garn’s sallow and shrunken skin seemed to fall away from him as he did so, returning him to the robust blacksmith you remembered from long ago.
Xarann’s eyes opened, and Viktor could see that this was Xarann, not some simulacrum or puppet. Viktor’s eyes welled with relief at the return of his friend, and at realising this nightmare was finally over. Zandeyr’s hellhounds vanished too, much to his regret, but he too felt the lifting of the dark burden he had carried.
For many minutes no-one spoke, as the enormity of what had happened sunk in. And then: hugs. Smiles. Tears. Even from Bannor.
Strahd von Zarovich, the Dark Lord and Dread Vampire of Barovia, was vanquished.
You had broken the curse of Strahd, and you were free.
Final Session played: 28 June, 2020