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Leaving the house, which stood ominously behind you in the fog, you pressed deeper into the woods, following the path West. Zandeyr probed the dense forest around you for life, detecting only small critterish movement and ravens overhead.

As you walked the fog started to thicken, and the air chilled noticeably. You caught glimpses of movement from the fog, but nothing clear, and Zandeyr warned he could sense wolves approaching — and you also heard the sound of hoof prints and what sounded like a carriage being drawn along the road ahead.

Taking up defensive positions behind trees on either side of the roadway, the carriage noises grew louder but still nothing could be seen. It slowed to a stop, and the sound of horses breathing hard could be heard. Around you you could sense the presence of the wolves, leaving you nowhere to retreat.

The fog on the road parted slightly, and a formally dressed figure walked toward you. His clothing was finely cut and he carried himself with an air of formality. Xarann was jolted to see that he appeared to be an elf of dark skin, though not as dark as the Drow, and felt an immediate (though inexplicable) kinship. He stopped, bowed slightly, and addressed you.

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“Welcome travellers, to fair Barovia. We greet you and wish you only the very best for your journey ahead. My names is Rahadin, and I would like to take the liberty of introducing you to my master, the Lord of this land, our August Ruler, His Dark Majesty, Strahd von Zarovich”

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Out of the enveloping fog another figure stepped, though not far enough for you to make him out entirely clearly. He was clad in the beautiful and ornate garb of royalty (even Zane was impressed — it was an older style but my goodness did he wear it well), impeccably groomed and emitting a force of presence that made you all hold your breath.

“We are delighted to see you arrive safely. It has been some time since we have had the great pleasure of hosting guests of your calibre in our lands. It seems far too long… but never mind that, for you are here now. I see you have bested the House, well done, that is indeed an encouraging sign for what lies ahead. But tell me, tell me please, why are you here?”

Glancing around at each of you, Viktor stepped forward, weapon drawn, and volunteered that you were here to meet with the Burgomaster, at his request. Strahd asked why he had asked, and Viktor answered that you were merely hired to do a job, but what that job was you weren’t yet sure.

The conversation continued, with Strahd alternately welcoming and pressing, and Viktor manfully avoiding answering with anything other than vagueness.

Strahd pondered for a moment, before turning his gaze upon Zane, who felt quickly overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of this most handsome and charming of men. “Tell me, pretty one, why are you here?”

Besotted, Zane stammered out that you had met a fortune teller…quite a good one…very old…who gave you a letter…from someone? Something about…a girl? Strahd suddenly become very still. The air seemed to drop several degrees as he spoke.

“She, is mine. Concern yourself not with her. All else you may explore, but leave her. Remember my words.”

With this he turned and disappeared into the fog which seemed to wrap itself around him like a cloak. You all felt like you could suddenly breathe again. Recollecting yourselves, you continued ahead, Strahd’s words echoing in your minds.

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Before long you emerged into an open road through barren fields, and you could soon make out buildings ahead in the foggy surrounds. It was daybreak, but that seemed only to mean the sky was marginally brighter through the dense cloud cover.

The buildings were tall and seemed to hang over the road like shadows, and all were boarded up and shut tight. Many had what looked like scratches all over the lower reaches, which Zandeyr confirmed were wolf claw marks. A glum silence hung over everything, and occasionally dull eyes peered out at you through the boarded windows. A mournful sobbing was the only sound.

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You reach an open square, where you finally saw a group of local people. They stood in the shadows of a house opposite, and you were struck by their drab clothes and faces, lifeless eyes. Only one of them wore slightly brighter clothing, a hint of warm red on her chest, but all stood very still and watchful. Attempts at conversation failed and they retreated if you drew near, though they did point you in the direction of the Burgomaster’s dwelling when prompted.

The square also had several buildings which, whilst still scarred, were open instead of boarded shut. Zane and Garn identified an Inn, and there was a general provisions shop. Zandeyr wanted to investigate the sobbing, but despite his best efforts he couldn’t get the occupant to open up — her sobbing replaced only by pleas to leave her to her despair.

You moved down the street to the Burgomaster’s house, a weary-looking mansion to the South of the village. Approaching the door you could see the claw scarred walls were also covered with signs of scorching burn marks, and the windows held no glass, only planks of wood.

Knocking on the door produced an answer from within, a woman’s voice asking who you were. When you answered you were here partly at Madam Eva’s invitation, she cursed and ordered you away, telling you never to return.

Retreating to the village you first tried the mercantile. The shopkeeper, Blidrath, was an extremely taciturn fellow, offering little in the way of advice — the sobbing woman was poor Mary, but that’s all he would say — and he sold goods for prices that were 10 times what you would expect.

Zane finally got his wish as you moved to the tavern — the Blood of the Vine. You entered into a shoddy looking room with a blazing fire which provided only scant warmth. A dull eyed barkeep cleaned glasses monotonously, and you saw a group of three swarthy looking Vistani women seated at a table — their clothing the most colourful thing you’d seen in some time. Their eyes followed you into the room, but they said nothing.

As you walked in a young, blonde haired, and very animated man jumped out of his seat and approached you. Introducing himself as Ismark, he bubbled over with his enthusiasm to see you, offering to buy you drinks and food and insisting you sit with him. He was the very opposite of the dour Barovian’s you had met thus far.

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After some conversation, during which Ismark declared his belief the Village of Barovia was cursed by ‘the devil Strahd’ and so too its people (who were paying for the sins of their forebears), you discovered that that this was Ismark Kolyanovich, no less than the son of Burgomaster Kolyan Indirovich.

You told him of the letter you had received asking for your aid, and he asked to see it. He started to read, but almost immediately cast the note down and declared that this was not his father’s hand.

And he could prove it — in his jacket pocket he had an almost identical note, but once which took quite a different tone. Instead of inviting assistance, this one warned all to stay away from Barovia at all costs:

Hail thee of might and valor:

I, the Burgomeister of Barovia, send you honor — with despair. My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena Kolyana, has been these past nights bitten by a vampyr.

For over four hundred years, this creature has drained the life blood of my people. Now my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. He has become too powerful to conquer.

So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with the symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the devil may be contained within the walls of weeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.

There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all departed for a better life. >

Kolyan Indirovich, Burgomeister

---

Not only was your letter false, Ismark also revealed that his father had died some three nights past. You were aghast at this news, and shocked to find yourselves here under false pretenses.

However Ismark was quick to follow up with his own plea: his adopted sister Ireena was indeed in need of help, that much was still very much true. He begged that as men of honour you escort her out of this village and to the nearby larger settlement of Vallaki. He claimed she would be much safer there — though he had never been there himself he had heard assertions that it was much better defended.

Garn and Viktor immediately agreed to assist, and you finished up your meals to head back to the mansion. As you stood to leave, the Vistani called over to you and said they had overheard you mention Madam Eva’s name. They said that she would be thrilled to see you again, and suggested — strongly — that you visit her at the Tser Pool Vistani encampment just West of the village.

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Back at the Burgomaster’s lodging, Ismark persuaded Ireena to open the door, promising that you were good men. The rooms in the house were well furnished if worn, and holy symbols covered every surface.

Ireena was a tall dark haired woman, with a scarf wrapped around her neck, wearing clothes of mourning. Zane found himself quite transfixed by her beauty.

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Ireena apologised for her earlier rudeness, and explained the horrific circumstances of their lives.

The mansion had been under assault by wolves and undead creatures for many weeks, as evidenced by the markings outside. Her father had fought back as best he could, but his heart eventually succumbed to the pressure three nights ago.

She herself had been twice visited by a dark presence she couldn’t describe, but one which had overwhelmed her and left her weaker with each visit. Ismark cursed and spat out the name of her visitor with disgust: Strahd.

She said she was willing to be taken to Vallaki, trusting her brother’s advice, but first her father must be buried and lain to rest with the Morninglord. His body was in a coffin in a side drawing room, and they had been unable to move him as the townsfolk didn’t dare evoke the wrath of their dread master.

Ireena told you that the local priest would be able to assist. Ismark made clear that the priest was suffering from some great spiritual pain, but agreed that the church was the only option. Viktor promised he could lead the service and perform the necessary rites. Ireena expressed her fear that the Morninglord had abandoned this land, bereft of sunlight as it was, but she was willing to put her faith in Viktor’s abilities.

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After some preparation, you set off in a procession down the main street to the church.

Ireena and Ismark had changed into impressive suits of polished armour, and Viktor blessed them and the coffin with the glowing light of the Morninglord. The procession moved through the streets and a small dull crowd eventually started to follow you up toward the church.

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As you passed Mary’s house, Ismark explained that she had lost her daughter recently after protecting her for many years. Garn shuddered as Ismark explained that it was likely she had been taken by Strahd, and was not expected to be seen again.

The church emerged out of the dim light, atop a small rise. Approaching it you saw that standing some way beyond it was an enormous gothic castle, standing high in the clouds and looming over the village like a shadow. Little wonder the people lived in terror — and that Ismark was so keen to move Ireena away.

You entered the church and moved quickly to the chapel, which reeked of mildew and was strewn with debris, lit by clusters of burning candles. Kneeling at the alter was a haggard and drawn figure, mumbling prayers with his head bowed. As you approached, a sudden unearthly howl arose from beneath the floorboards — “Faaaatttthhhheerrrrrr”.

The priest froze, before resuming his recital. Ismark interrupted and he jumped to his feet. Pale and clearly exhausted beyond human endurance, Father Donavich introduced himself. You explained your purpose, and he agreed to assist where he could. Your talk was interrupted by occasional screams and cries from below — “Father! I’m hunngggrrryy” — and Donavich visibly shrunk with each outburst.

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You asked what was going on, and he haltingly told you that the creature below was his son Doru. He had attempted an assault on Strahd’s castle a year ago, only to return as a cursed undead being. Donavich had trapped him below, and all he did now was pray for some deliverance for his son.

Garn offered to kill Doru to put him out of his misery, and Donavich shakily agreed, though he also seemed somewhat horrified. But first the burial had to be completed. You moved out into the churchyard and began the preparations.

Viktor led the funeral rites whilst Ireena and Ismark kneeled and prayed, hands crossed over their swords which were thrust into the ground in front of them. About half way through the ritual, storm clouds begun gathering overhead. Xarann observed with worry that they seemed to be centred on the graveyard and that the villagers had all disappeared, and you all noted the cooling temperature and suddenly swirling fog.

As Viktor continued, Zane saw with mounting horror that the churchyard was being surrounded by scores of huge wolves, prowling around the iron fencing and howling with hunger. And with a flash of thunder and light, a dark figure appeared between you and the church: Strahd.

He held out his hand, and addressed Ireena, beckoning her to come to him. She shuddered, and gripped her sword tightly and continued praying. He called again, telling her she belonged with him, promising it was her destiny. She groaned with frustration, but started to climb to her feet.

You drew your weapons, but knew better than to attack the Dark Lord. Viktor’s prayers were reaching their conclusion, as Ireena struggled but slowly started to drag her feet toward Strahd. Garn quickly positioned himself between the two of them, breaking the eye contact for a brief moment.

Ireena cried out for help, and Zane and Xarann tried to hold her back from Strahd’s irresistible summons. Garn decided it was now or never and charged toward Strahd, only to be flung aside by some supernatural force. At the same moment, Viktor’s rituals were completed, and he strode toward Ireena whilst summoning power from the Morninglord. A touch on her arm and she was suddenly bathed in a sense of deep calm and peace — and Strahd’s words no longer compelled her.

Strahd cried out in fury at the interruption, realising that the moment was lost. “She is MINE! I warned you not to interfere. This will not be forgotten!” And he vanished in a burst of darkness.

As he did, the wolves broke through the fences of the yard, and hurtled toward you. You sprinted to the church, but Zane and Garn both tripped over broken gravestones. The wolves were almost upon you when a burst of arrows from Zandeyr took down several of the closest, and a spell from Xarann made mirror images of Garn appear and distract several of the wolves.

Garn and Zane fought off two, Zane functioning by muscle memory alone such was his terror from the huge canines. Somehow you all managed to get to the church before the wolves, and you collapsed into the chapel, panting for breath and shaking with sweat. Realising you had survived, you started to relax slightly, only for the relative peace to be shattered by a cry from below:

“FEEEEEEEED MEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

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Session played: 25 February 2019