---

---

Xarann felt himself being overwhelmed by the zombie horde, like large versions of the twig creatures he’d unleashed. In desperation he cried out to Eilistraee for help as he fell, lifeless, beneath the swarm.

Darkness surrounded Xarann, and he heard the scuttling of spiders in the emptiness, reminding you of the dark times of Lolth and her cults. A many-facetted voice spoke:

“Did you think you could escape us? You called to the wrong god, little one. We are the gods here, and we will answer your call.

You have been running so long, running from your self and from others.

You have dragon blood, yet you turned your back on those that could empower that blood. Is it time for you to learn the truth of your ancestry? To embrace that which you are?

Or do you wish instead to belong, to befriend, to finally stop running?”

Xarann listened carefully, his mind racing and conflicted. “Must I choose?”

“You must”

“The history of my blood is evil, I turned away from that, so I cannot take that choice.”

“What those around you have done in your blood’s name is not what you have done. You decide your destiny, not the past, and not the other.”

Xarann pondered this. “I would choose to belong, if I knew what that meant. Belong to what?”

“To the land.”

“No. Not this land. Not ever this land. If my blood is evil, this land is an even greater evil.”

“Again we say: land cannot be evil. It is those that live that land that shape it, not the land itself. Do not be too hasty to reject what it means to be part of something so powerful.”

Xarann waited. There was no right choice. “I…I choose my blood. That, at least, I can control.”

“We thought as much. Enjoy your true power, we trust it suits you well.”

---

Garn’s prayer returned Xarann gasping to life. Before he was dragged away by the encroaching zombies, Garn saw that Xarann’s skin was covered in newly created scars that looked like some kind of arcane script. The scars flashed and pulsed under the skin with what looked like lightning.

Xarann opened his eyes to life, only to see Rahadin swinging his blade down into his chest. The zombies too piled on, and before he could draw more than a few quick breaths, Xarann fell again below life.

He wasn’t ready to die again. But he couldn’t stop it. As he fell he was somehow aware of his corporeal body being brutally struck, despite being already dead.

And then they were back. The spiders. The dark voice.

“Back so soon? No time to explore your new powers, no time to thank us. Still, we are pleased to see you back. So we will reward you - but this time it’s our choice.

You will belong now. You will feel what it means to be part of something. To fit in, to be as one with the land. Tread carefully, little one, the path you now follow is a…complex one.”

---

Xarann was wrenched back to life again, this time by Viktor, who noticed that his ward’s skin had become lighter, and colder. The lightning beneath the scars still flashed, and Xarann reached out to hold Viktor, seeking strength and solace. Viktor could see Xarann had changed. He lent in close to whisper, “I’m sorry I arrived too late.”

Bannor stood in shock in the corpses from the battle. Despite his long experience, he was amazed they were all still (mostly) alive. He didn’t drop his gruff stance, but inside he was impressed. You had a chance.

Garn and Zane rested on their weapons, looking around the carnage. Then Zane suddenly remembered Ireena in Strahd’s arms, and he sprinted off toward the church, his father’s calls falling on furious deaf ears.

Zandeyr arrived at Xarann’s side, and instantly started poking and prodding at the scars. Xarann passively accepted this, numbly watching as Zandeyr (resplendent in crown and sceptre) sampled his blood (it looked normal?). Xarann could barely speak when quizzed by the medicine-man about the Dark Powers, saying only “I don’t know how I feel, or what I feel. But whatever it is, it hasn’t changed what we need to do.” Garn, nearby, nodded in agreement.

Viktor assisted Xarann to his feet, and you followed Zane slowly back into Vallaki.

---

Zane smashed his fist against the barred church door, demanding access. After some short words, Lucian unbolted the door and opened it. To be met by Zane’s fist, square in the nose. Lucian fell to his knees, blood pouring from the force of the blow.

He held his hand up to Zane. “I am sorry. I tried to stop her, but she was too strong for me. Far too strong.”

Zane swore, loudly, yelled at Lucian to pinch his nose to stop the bleeding, and started motoring around the church, kicking pews and thumping walls and anything that got in his way. Lucian watched on sadly.

Everyone else arrived, and Viktor quickly healed Lucian, repeating again that he did what he could. “I know,” Viktor replied, “and one day my son will too.”

He caught Zane by the arm and looked him in the eye. “Stop for a moment. I know. I know what you’re going through. But stop, and listen. You need to let me know when you’re ready to go and meet your mother.”

“Is that a threat?!”, Zane barked back.

“I don’t understand. Your mother is in the Church. The Morninglord brought her here.”

Zane looked up at the ceiling and around the rafters, searching for his mother. his mind reeling with confusion and anguish.

Viktor tried to get through to him. “We will get her back. We will get Ireena back.”

“You swapped her? You fucking swapped her?!”

Zane shoved his father aside and was out the door in a flash.

Viktor sighed, asking for one of you to follow and take care of his son.

“Why would we start doing that now?” Bannor rejoined, as Garn followed Zane out the door.

---

Ezmerelda watched all this impassively, directing Viktor inside to where Thomasin rested when asked.

She walked over to Bannor, who had removed his equipment and was methodically cleaning and adjusting everything.

“You look like a man who can handle himself”, she said, nodding at the laid out weapons of war.

“I do what has to be done, nothing more.”

“And you do it well, or so Lucian tells me.”

“Does he. I don’t think he approves of my methods.”

“You have payed a price, it seems”, she said, staring at the darkness behind Bannor’s glasses.

“I died. More than once. A trapped wagon.”

“That was you?! My gods, what treasures you destroyed…” She cursed and spat on the ground.

“I’m not the one who trapped it.”

Ezmerelda laughed. “And what you have done here, in Barovia. Baba Lysaga is no easy target. Nor the Gulthias tree, the Amber Temple. I’m impressed.”

“Hard targets all. On the other hand, the Mongrelfolk were easy.”

“At the Abbey? What of them?”

“I killed them. All but two.”

Ezmerelda recoiled. “Killed? You killed them all??”

“They were a problem that needed solving. I solved it. They were tearing this group apart, and we have a job to do. So I removed the impediment. Death was the kindest cut for them.”

“Was it. I’m not so sure, but I wasn’t there.”

Bannor waved vaguely to the rest of you with his hand. “They can think I’m a monster. I don’t care.”

“Are you?”

Bannor stared back at her, his empty eyes saying nothing.

Ezmerelda cocked her head with a coy smile. “I should be hunting you if you are. Let’s go to the tavern.”

Bannor would have blushed if he could, and he followed close behind her when as she headed outside.

---

Viktor stepped slowly into the room where Thomasin lay resting on a bed. Her eyes opened to look up at him, and tears welled for both of them.

She reached out to him. “You came for me. You found me.”

Viktor took her hand.

“How did you find me?”

“The Morninglord sent me to you. The fogs returned, and with it a chance, which I took. Zane too, though you won’t know him.”

“I’ll know him.”

Viktor hesitated. Thomasin hadn’t changed, the years having taken on toll on her, unlike himself. “Tell me what you remember.”

“I… I don’t. I only remember waiting. Endless, timeless, waiting. And being watched. By him. By the creature. Viktor…”

Viktor fell to his knees to embrace her, Thomasin holding him close. She whispered in his ear, sobbing “He…he fed on me. He fed on me. He fed on me.”

---

Zane had beelined back to the battlefield, looking for something to punish or hurt. All he found were bodies, which he sliced and prodded with impotent fury.

As Garn cautiously approached, Zane issued a simple command: “Pub”

By the time Ezmerelda and Bannor arrived, both Zane and Garn were well in their cups. Zandeyr, the wolf hunters, and the Martikov’s joined the table, and a lively discussion followed. Ezmerelda quizzed you on your ‘hunts’, and regaled you with stories of her own adventures and discoveries.

Ezmerelda asked if you had encountered a fellow hunter by the name of Rudolph van Richten in your travels. You told her not, though you did recall that the tower where Ezmerelda’s wagon was found was referred to as ‘van Richten’s Tower’ by Davian Martikov.

She explained that he was a great monster hunter, and she understood he had come to Barovia to avenge himself on Strahd for some past wrong. She was surprised you hadn’t encountered him, when Urwin mentioned the only visitor they had had recently was the bard Rictavio.

That name sent your minds back to the strange man who kept a jaguar in his wagon, and had helped you subtly in Zane’s duel with Izek. As you described this to Ezmerelda, it dawned on you that Rictavio and van Richten were one and the same. Ezmerelda confirmed as much.

Urwin told you that ‘Rictavio’ had left Vallaki some days hence, and not been seen since. The bard had left a journal in his room, which he brought to the table. Zandeyr flipped quickly through it, determining that it was a note perfect journal of a travelling man, long boring stretches of road trips interspersed with innocent descriptions of towns and people he had visited. One could almost believe it all true, if not for the perfection of the misdirection contained therein.

Garn asked if the Martikov’s could send their ravens to find where van Richten had gone. Danika told you that while he had left by the East gate, he had circled back around the town to leave to the West - more misdirection she assumed. They agreed to seek out his wagon and report back. Garn also requested Ezmerelda accompany you to Ravenloft, and she readily agreed.

---

Early the following morning, Urwin brought news of van Richten’s whereabouts. His wagon had been found abandoned atop the cliffs at the entrance to Ravenloft. Ezmerelda shook her head at this news, “The old fool”. She didn’t think it boded well.

With this news received, you started planning your approach and assault on Ravenloft.

Viktor quizzed those of you who had been granted - or cursed with - the dark powers. Bannor repeated his belief that he could raise the dead - and had indeed promised to raise Kasimir’s sister Patrina, if found.

Garn too had this power - though he said his was deeper than what Viktor had done with Ezmerelda, not being limited by time. As Bannor did, he believed the power should be used on one of the party should someone fall - though he had been considering if raising Vladimir Horngaard might tip the battle ahead in your favour. Bannor suggested perhaps Argynvost might be even more helpful. Though it was said semi in jest, there was a silence in the room as you considered this. A silver dragon on your side? Thoughts of Stormwatch in all their glory slipped into Zane’s groggy head.

Zandeyr withheld his last power, saying only that it might not be a popular moment when he did use it. Xarann meanwhile told you what he knew of his new and untested powers. He said he now had complete control over lightning, though using that control came at a cost. He also said that he now had some of the powers of the vampire.

This took you all by surprise. Xarann said he could change shape to an ethereal form, and now healed slowly in night hours - and indeed he had recovered fully from his wounds over the course of the previous night despite being badly hurt. He also quietly mentioned that he could feed on the living for sustenance if he chose (something the rest of you chose not to hear, or at least not to question). He swore he was still whole, and not a vampire (confirmed by a quick and subtle check from Garn). The Dark Forces had given him this ‘gift’ to make him belong to this land, and he now lived with that curse.

---

Ezmerelda asked you if you knew what it would take to kill the vampire Strahd. Zandeyr explained his understanding at some length, drawing on his book in progress: stakes, sunlight, garlic, mirrors. Ezmerelda laughed at some of this, before telling you what she knew. Garlic and mirrors were myths, but she said that a stake to the heart would paralyse a vampire - but not kill it. By her understanding, a vampire must be killed in it’s coffin or crypt in order to be fully destroyed. And the only way to do that was to expose it to enough sunlight or holy water whilst in situ.

Garn explained how the sunlight from his sword hadn’t seem to slow Strahd down - though Zane thought he recalled a slight flinch as Strahd had entered its radius to carry Rahadin to safety. Ezmerelda frowned at this news. “If sunlight can’t hurt him, we have a problem. That would leave only holy water, and if he has worked out how to avoid that too…”

None-the-less, Viktor and Garn set about conjuring up enough vials of holy water so you would have two each. The thinking was that even if Strahd is invulnerable, his minions surely won’t be.

Zane also requested that several flocks of ravens meet you at the gates of Ravenloft once you arrived, and the wolf-hunters and any other willing red-shirts were recruited as an escort to the entrance.

Ezmerelda then spent some time enhancing and explaining what she knew of the dread castle. Van Richten had recovered the original plans from somewhere - your minds went back to the empty scroll case you found with the Ravenloft model in the Amber Temple - but those had been destroyed with her wagon (she glanced over at Bannor with narrowed eyes - he shrugged).

She drew a scale map and further detailed your own sketch, and recalled the following details. The upper floors were generally understood as follows:

• Main floor: Chapel / Dining / Hall of Faith
• Court of the Count: Audience Hall / King’s Hall
• Rooms of Weeping: Treasury / Hall of Heroes
• Spires of Ravenloft: Guest rooms? She’s not sure

The lower floors were less known, and she assumed more deadly:

• Larders of Ill Omen: Servants/Butlers/Guards/Chamberlains
• Catacombs: Bad things

---

---

---

After some time, Viktor walked over to Zane and shook him fully awake. “It’s time”

Zane grunted through the fog enveloping his aching head. “Time for what? What am I doing?”

“Meeting your mother”

“…I have to do that now?”

“When else would you like to? After you get killed in Ravenloft?”

Zane stared at his father. “Ok. Let’s do it.” He quickly cleaned himself up at the font, grudingly accepting Viktor’s adjustments to his clothing, and gingerly walked toward his destiny.

Viktor entered the room and sat by Thomasin’s side. She greeted him warmly, and took his hand as she sat up.

“You look the same,” Viktor said.

“Do I? I have not seen myself these many years. But I believe it, time seemed to pass so very slowly. You have changed, older - but still handsome,” she smiled. “Where’s Aleksandr?”

“He’s waiting outside.”

“Does he remember me?”

“I talked about you a lot. And he knows this locket well,” Viktor said drawing the locket from his neck and showing her the portrait he had carried since that fateful night.

Zane slowly entered the room and stood uncomfortably before his parents, staring at the ground. Thomasin beamed, “Aleksandr,” and she opened her arms to him.

Zane’s careful nonchalance broke. He ran to her arms and embraced her, all semblance of cool gone. Thomasin whispered to him, “I know it’s been many years we have lost, but I promise you I will make it up to you. I promise.”

After some minutes the embrace was broke. “When can we leave this dread place?” Thomasin asked.

Viktor hesitated before answering. “We can’t. Not yet. We have to finish Strahd and free the people of Barovia from his shadow.”

“Don’t go. Leave it to the others.” She waved her hand toward the main church building. “I can’t lose you again so soon.”

“We must. I must go. The Morninglord delivered you to us, and we must repay that blessing by removing the curse on this land.”

“I know you Viktor,” Thomasin said. “I know you are a man of your word and of the Morninglord, and understand that you must. But please leave Aleksandr with me. I can’t lose both of you again so soon, not again.”

Zane looked at his father, lost for words for the first time in a long time. Eventually he stammered out an appeal, “What should we do?”

“You won’t lose us,” Viktor said. “Zan…Aleksandr is very good at looking after himself. Much better than I would have wanted. This place has made a man of him, not in the manner I would have liked, but it is done.

I would give anything for the three of us to leave, here and now, and never come back to this wretched place. But he will never let us be.”

Zane, full of swirling emotion, looked to his mother. “I didn’t want you to be real. I wanted to be angry with my father. But you are. And…there is a girl.” He blushed furiously, despite his best efforts.

Thomasin looked surprised, then remembered her son was no longer a child. Viktor explained. “Her name is Ireena, and she is Burgomaster of this town. Aleksandr and her fell for each other, and now Strahd has her. They are the same age we were, when we first courted.”

And with this Thomasin, understood. “Go. Bring her back, and bring yourselves back. I will be here, and we will finally be together.”

---

As your preparations concluded, you discussed the best way to get to the castle. Someone raised that Strahd’s invitation hadn’t been withdrawn, and perhaps accepting that might be the quickest means of access. Some thought that Strahd would no longer be in the mood for dinner, but Xarann countered. “He wants to wine and dine us. He’s bored, so bored, and we represent something new to him: a challenge. He’s probably not had that for centuries. So I think he will welcome us - he doesn’t want this to end to quickly. We should use that - it’s a weakness that he thinks he can toy with us.”

Garn agreed, “He’s annoyed, but he’s still playing the game.” Bannor posited that Strahd may in fact offer you all freedom, to rid himself of the nuisance you had become. This theory held some weight, though Garn suggested that if it was offered, you should goad him. “Tell him he’s lost! That we have outdone him. Antagonise him.” The rest of you firmly put a stop to that idea.

Viktor warned that you shouldn’t put your faith in the Strahd’s word, and Zandeyr also reminded everyone that accepting the invitation may mean leaving Ezmerelda behind. In the end it was agreed that getting their under your own steam was both safer and something of a statement to Strahd.

It was decided, and as you strapped on your weapons, armour, and implements of destruction - and Zandeyr carefully rolled and stashed the portrait of himself as King - Garn stepped forward to address everyone.

“There is nothing more for us. We have done and gathered all we can to prepare. We have recovered the artefacts. Destroyed his allies and raised our own. Cleansed evil where we have found it, and taken individual burdens that will scar us forever. Now it is time to take the fight to the devil Strahd and venture to heart of his domain. And finally finish what we so naively began.”

Castle Ravenloft awaits.

---

Session played: 8 and 22 June, 2020