D&D 5E A Middling DM Runs Curse of Strahd

[EthanSental]

Fun stuff, keep it coming please!

 

[el-remmen]

Enjoying this!

 

[not-so-newguy]

Fun stuff, keep it coming please!

Enjoying this!

Thanks! Much appreciated!

 

[pukunui]

I am enjoying it as well!

Just one question: did you move the Death House? I thought it was meant to be in Barovia, but I note you had the PCs walk for two hours between them.

 

[not-so-newguy]

I am enjoying it as well!

Just one question: did you move the Death House? I thought it was meant to be in Barovia, but I note you had the PCs walk for two hours between them.

Yes, I moved it east of the village of Barovia so that it was the first major thing that the party encountered. I also changed the background a bit. I got the ideas from 'Raising the Stakes' PDF, which I am using. It provides a bunch of tweaks to Curse of Strahd. You can find these ideas on the youtube channel Lunch Break Heroes. I highly recommend it. and thanks!

 

[pukunui]

Cool. I'd love to run Curse of Strahd again some day. I ran Death House as an April Fools' Day one-shot for one of my groups. I gave them a bunch of pregens to choose from - April and Her Fools, a group of traveling minstrels. None of them made it out alive! (This was before the wildfire druid was a thing.)

I later ran Curse of Strahd sans Death House for the same group. We had a lot of fun, although they ultimately failed to defeat Strahd. I think the most memorable bit from the campaign was when Strahd visited the group in Vallaki. The PC with the Sunsword was on guard duty. Strahd charmed him and then the player said something stupid (I forget what exactly) that resulted in Strahd convincing the PC to give him the sword, which he then hid in his castle.

 

[not-so-newguy]

Cool. I'd love to run Curse of Strahd again some day. I ran Death House as an April Fools' Day one-shot for one of my groups. I gave them a bunch of pregens to choose from - April and Her Fools, a group of traveling minstrels. None of them made it out alive! (This was before the wildfire druid was a thing.)

I later ran Curse of Strahd sans Death House for the same group. We had a lot of fun, although they ultimately failed to defeat Strahd. I think the most memorable bit from the campaign was when Strahd visited the group in Vallaki. The PC with the Sunsword was on guard duty. Strahd charmed him and then the player said something stupid (I forget what exactly) that resulted in Strahd convincing the PC to give him the sword, which he then hid in his castle.

The Death House (Durst Manor) itself is a great adventure. Although the set up for it, as written in the book, is very railroad-y and not very good IMO. The players have the choice of entering the house or choked to death in the mist, which is not much of a choice. For a one-shot this is fine, but I don't like it for an ongoing campaign.

Also I started the party off at 3rd level, so I knew they'd probably survive it. This is the way I wanted start off Curse of Strahd, as a way of easing the players into my campaign. This has to do with our personal history as a group with me being the DM. I ran a DCC campaign last year where on average there was 1 PC death per session, and I got a reputation as a "killer DM." It got so bad that I had an obituary page dedicated to all the character deaths (It was 20+ deaths). On the one hand, I want there to be the tension of potential character death when playing; on the other, I don't want players to just throw up their hands in frustration and give up. It's a balance that I'm still trying to figure out even after decades of running games.

 

[not-so-newguy]

Character Vs Character/Betrayal
I should’ve addressed this in session 0, especially with Curse of Strahd since one of Strahd’s tactics is to turn the party against themselves. But I haven’t done that, so I’ll be addressing this next session. This is just me writing down my thoughts. Nothing is writ in stone, so things may change. As always, feedback is welcomed!

Our Group
We’re all a little older (35+), we 've been playing together for almost three years now, and everyone knows each other pretty well. Well enough to take the piss out of each other, so to speak, so I don’t think there would be long lasting hurt feelings if characters came to blows. That being said, Players can get really sensitive if you kill their characters, so I want to clarify some ground rules and consequences for any potential party infighting or betrayal.

The Party
I would divide the general personalities of the PCs into three buckets; based on their alignment, character flaw, and in-game behavior.

#1 Good-guy heroes. These are the PCs that actively try to do the right thing. (Yor and Wildthorn )
#2 Mercenary anti-heroes. They only really have their self-interest at heart; working together and doing the right thing is usually just more convenient. (Roos, Smugly, and Skarther)
#3 Evil Heel. This guy actively antagonizes NPCs. Being a jerk is just too much fun. (Moss)

The most likely candidate for betrayal would be bucket #3, but bucket #2 could be turned with the right enticement.

Some ground rules for Character vs Character & party betrayal:
A character can attack another character only if both players agree. If one of the players does not want this to happen, then the attack doesn’t happen.

If a player refuses combat, then a meta game discussion occurs. The player that wants to initiate combat needs to state the reason for their attack. For example, “my character thinks your character is about to sell us out to Strahd, which would royally screw us. It would make sense for him to take this drastic step.” The defending player then has some choices to make: 1) Clarify that, in fact, no he will not betray the party. 2) Yes, he would betray the party, but he'll modify his behavior. The defending player must change their intentions/actions if they refuse to fight.

What happens if the offending character is not under control of their actions (e.g. charmed)? Should the DM step in and inform the players that the character is being controlled? I understand that a DM or Player can give clues that the offending character is not behaving as they normally would. However, what about that jerk Moss? Selling out the party lines up pretty well with his character. Hmm, I think I may present this scenario to the group and let them decide.

Last, what happens if a character decides to turn to the dark side? For example, what if a character wants to join Strahd or Baba Lysaga and abandon the party? Then the character is put on semi hiatus and the player must create a new character. If a confrontation occurs, then the player can either play both sides of the conflict or just stick with his new character.

 

[not-so-newguy]

Getting to the Church on Time

The Long Rest
The Gang laid out their sleeping rolls in various rooms of the dilapidated mansion and finally got some rest, though it was twice interrupted. The first time was at midnight when a procession of eerie green lights was spotted coming through the gaps in the wooden boards nailed across the broken windows. “Oh, those are the spirits of dead adventurers who faced Strahd and lost. It’s been happening for years now.” Said Ismark. “They follow the Svalich road all the way to Ravenloft Castle. I have no idea what happens after that. It occurs nightly.” The second interruption happened several hours later when the howls of wolves and the taunting chants of “Ireena!” was heard just outside of the house. They simply witnessed the events and went back to sleep.

Burying Burgermeister Koylan
At the break of dawn, the solemn procession carried the casket of the former Burgermeister from the mansion to the church sans Moss. Unfortunately, he ate some bad rations and suffered from the green apple splatters*. Ireena and Ismark were happy to leave the miasmic Druid behind. Along the way, they passed the source of sobbing that the Gang had heard throughout their stay in the Village. “That’s Mary. She’s mad with grief. Her daughter Gertruda disappeared a few weeks ago,” Ireena observed. The Gang collectively shrugged and continued with their burden.

The seven of them reached the Church of the Morninglord. It suffered similar signs of harassment to the mansion and was even more neglected than the Burgermeister’s home. Ismark approached the double doors and knocked loudly several times. No answer was forthcoming. The Gang took the lead and entered the building. The double doors opened to a hallway flanked by four doors, two on each side. The hallway led to the church proper, where someone could be seen kneeling at an altar. Seen beyond the altar was rope that led up to the church’s belltower. He was rhythmically bowing and chanting with manic fervency that was occasionally interrupted by unintelligible yells and growls that came from below. Wildthorn could hear shuffling coming from below his feet, apparently this place had a basement; ya’know, just like the Alamo*.

The Gang entered the church proper and Yor knelt next to the priest and said something like “YOU. MAD.” This absolutely startled the sweaty priest. The poor man seemed completely bonkers and hadn’t had a good night’s sleep or bath in months. Ireena and Ismark identified the man as Father Donavich.

“FATHER! I hunger!” The inhuman, demanding and pleading scream came from below.

The Gang insisted on just what the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks was going on here. Donavich spoke haltingly at first, then the words poured from his mouth, relieved to finally confess his secret. The Priest’s story goes like this:

About a year ago, a powerful wizard gathered a peasant army to assault Castle Ravenloft, Donavich’s son was part of this army. Strahd and this wizard battled on the walls of Ravenloft. The wizard was killed, and the peasant army was wiped out. The lucky peasants were simply dead. Others, like his son, were reborn as undead. Strahd thought it would be humorous to return Doru, now a Vampire Spawn, to his father. The Acolyte of the Morninglord locked his son in the basement, and he’s been there ever since.

After hearing this story, the Gang huddled up and made plans. They decided to put a pin in the “Doru Situation” and bury the Burgermeister first. So, everyone went out back to the graveyard and a proper burial was given to Koylan Indrovich. They returned to the church where they pressed Donavich on his son, Doru. The Priest ignored them and returned to the altar where he sunk back into his prayerful state of denial. Frustrated, the Gang decided to take matters into their own hands.

The Doru Situation
Knowing that the Vampire Spawn was located beneath them, the Gang explored the rest of the building to find a way down. They began opening doors in the entrance hall. In their exploration, Roos picked up a lamp and a book entitled “The Blades of Truth: The Uses of Logic in the War Against Diabolist Heresies, as Fought by the Ulmist Inquisition. (1)” Roos deduced that the book mixes logic exercises with lurid descriptions of fiend worshipping cults after leafing through it for a few minutes.

The Gang found a chained and padlocked trapdoor in the last room they explored. Roos and Yor tried to pick the lock but failed. That’s when Roos took out his trusty crowbar and someone busted that sucker open. Right after prying the trapdoor open, Wildthorn could hear something shuffling away from them down below. They lit some lamps, dropped through the trapdoor, and crept down the stairs. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found out what’s been making all that racket.

Backed up in the corner of the basement is what appeared to be a pale disheveled teenager and the smell… oh dear God, the smell. It was as if the kid had locked himself down here with a Commadore 64, gathered a year’s supply of Funyuns and Mountain Dew, and played Sid Meier’s Civilization from Settler to Deity.

“I can smell your blood,” he smiled. His fangs extended and he flexed his dirty clawed hands. “All I need is blood from something living. It doesn’t matter what. A rat or whatever. Just give me blood.”

It seemed to be trying to negotiate in his awkward manner. The Gang paused. Considered. Then rejected any notion of negotiations. Smugly approached and Doru hissed his displeasure. When the Dragonborn closed within twenty feet, it was on. Roll for initiative.

Yor casted Darkness off to the side to provide some cover that he never used. When they discovered that the Vampire Spawn could regenerate, the Gang began using Radiant Magic to cancel this ability. Doru did not like this at all and began focusing his attacks at first on Skarther who was using Moonbeam. When Skarther hid in the magical darkness that Yor provided, The Vampire Spawn focused his attacks on Wildthorn who was using Sacred Flame. Slowly but surely the Gang was whittling the creature down. Smugly was doing most of the damage by throwing punches in bunches, Roos tacked on damage with his sneak attack, while the spell casters followed this up with Radiant Damage. That’s when the poop hit the fan.

Doru sunk his fangs into Wildthorn’s neck and with a final gasp, the Elven Cleric dropped to the ground dead**. Yor, ignoring his sword, was determined to grapple with the Vampire Spawn. What his endgame was I have no idea. Finally, after suffering some necrotic damage, the Kenku Warlock was able to get ahold of Doru and drag him up the stairs. I guess his plan was to drag the Vampire Spawn out into the daylight. There were two problems with this plan: 1. How was he going to get the creature up through the trapdoor? 2. As the party already knew, the sun in Barovia was consistently blocked. (I blame Lipton’s Hard Iced Tea for this lack of foresight.)

Moss appeared at the trapdoor. “Hey everyone! My case of the Green Apple Splatters has passed! I’m here to help!”

His help wasn’t needed though. Luckily for everyone, especially Yor, Smugly continued to connect punch after punch and Doru dropped to the ground unconscious. Skarther finished the creature with Moonbeam.

Roos marched up the stairs and punched Father Donavich in the back of the head. “Your son just killed my best friend! Don’t worry. We took care your problem and finished that [expletive deleted] off.” The manic light went out of Father Donavich’s eyes. He slumped to the ground and said nothing. A single tear fell down Yor’s feathered face as he felt a pang of jealousy, for he thought he was Roos’s BFF. It was an Elf thing that he would never understand.

The Gang gathered some brushes and reconnoitered out in the cemetery. They lit Wildthorn’s body on fire, said some respectful words, and finished him off with Moonbeam lest the Cleric of Light returned as a Vampire.



Leaving the Village of Barovia
With their powers depleted and suffering from blood drain, the Gang returned to the old mansion and took a long rest. They decided to go to Madam Eva’s encampment, perhaps her divinations could provide some guidance out of their plight. After that, they planned to go to Vallaki where they could find a safe home for Ireena at the church located in town. The Gang’s rest was again interrupted. Yadda yadda yadda green light spirits. Yadda yadda yadda wolves and ghouls.

At the break of dawn, the Gang headed west along the Svalich road. About an hour into their journey, the gang spotted several conspiracies of ravens flying overhead. Ireena smiled. “This is a positive omen. Ravens are considered good luck in Barovia.” Yor was certain that Ireena was flirting with him since he was a Kenku, while the rest of the party just ignored the comment.

They reached the stone bridge that arched over the River Ivlis and they were met with the now-familiar sound of the howls of wolves. The Gang paused on the bridge and decided to use it as a choke point. Sure enough, ten wolves were spotted bearing down on them from the west. Moss cast Spike Growth at the mouth of the bridge. The first several wolves hit the now spiky ground in front of the party and were injured for their efforts. The pack paused for a moment, hesitant on what to do next. They decided to circumvent the party and swim across the river. While the wolves were forced to take this flanking maneuver, the Gang was able to whittle a few of their numbers. Once they reached the other side, they were scattered and engaged with the party in a staggered manner. The Gang defeated them without much trouble. Yay sound tactics!

Madam Eva's Encampment
Around noon, the Gang reached Madam Eva’s encampment. They could see the colorful tents at the edge of the river and sounds of talking and singing by the Vistani. Near the fire sat a hulking man in chain mail armor. His shield, emblazoned with a unicorn and shrike, lay by his side and there were several javelins plunged into the ground. He stood and his silvered war hammer could be seen swaying on his belt.

“I’m Thalion, Paladin of Meilikki” The holy warrior towered over the party as he told his story of how he arrived int Barovia.

The Paladin was based in Secomber, a town that was several days travel east of Daggerford. The Rods of Justice there had asked Thalion to deal some Vistani merchants that were encamped outside of town. The locals found their presence threatening and a general nuisance. Thalion was tasked to order these Vistani to leave and present them with Written Documents that proclaimed the Paladin was empowered with the authority of the Rods of Secomber.

Thalion met the leader of the Vistani, a man named Stanimir. The leader agreed to leave, if Thalion would hear his tale. The Paladin listened to his tale:

“We come from an ancient land whose name is long forgotten- a land of kings. Our enemies forced us from our homes, and now we wander the lost roads.

One night, a wounded soldier staggered into our camp and collapsed. We nursed his terrible injury and quenched his thirst with wine. He survived. When we asked him who he was, he wouldn’t say. All he wanted was to return home, but we were deep in the land of his enemies. We took him as one of our own and followed him back toward his homeland. His enemies hunted him. They said he was a prince, yet we didn’t give him up, even when their assassins fell upon us like wolves.

This man of royal blood fought to protect us, as we protected him. We bore him safely to his home, and he thanked us. He said ‘I owe you my life. Stay as long as you wish, leave when you choose, and know that you will always be safe here.’

A curse has befallen our noble prince, turning him into a tyrant. We alone have the power to leave his domain. We’ve traveled far and wide to find heroes such as yourself to end our dread lord’s curse and put his troubled soul to rest. Our leader, Madam Eva, knows all. Will you return to Barovia with us to speak with her.”

Intrigued and moved by Stanimir’s tale, Thalion agreed. That was about a week ago. The Paladin traveled through the Mist with the Vistani and arrived at the encampment five days ago. To the Paladin’s frustration, Madam Eva has refused to talk to the Paladin since then. The only thing she would say was that “the other five need to be present for the divinations to work.”
END SESSION

*These comments reference a show or movie. Inspiration given to the first two players that can cite these references.

** I screwed up. Necrotic damage will only permanently kill a PC if their MAXIMUM HIT POINTS is reduced to zero. That wasn’t the case here. I talked to the player about this and gave him the option to bring back Wildthorn, but he opted to play Thalion. I put the middling in Middling DM

(1) The Blades of Truth: The Uses of Logic in the War Against Diabolist Heresies, as Fought by the Ulmist Inquisition

Spoiler

Logic is the practice that explains what conditions must be fulfilled in order that a proposition may be proved, if it admits of proof. Not, indeed, every such proposition; for as to those that declare the equality or inequality of numbers or other magnitudes, to explain the conditions of their proof belongs to mathematics: they are said to be quantitative. But as to all other propositions, called qualitative, like most of those that we meet with in conversation, in literature, in politics, and even in the schools of magic so far as they are not treated mathematically; propositions that merely tell us that something happens (as that salt dissolves in water), or that something has a certain property (as that ice is cold): as to these, it belongs to Logic to show how we may judge whether they are true, or false, or doubtful. When propositions are expressed with the universality and definiteness that belong to scientific statements, they are called laws; and laws, so far as they are not laws of quantity, are tested by the principles of Logic, if they at all admit of proof.

But it is plain that the process of proving cannot go on forever; something must be taken for granted; and this is usually considered to be the case (1) with particular facts that can only be perceived and observed, and (2) with those highest laws that are called ‘axioms’ or ‘first principles, of which we can only say that we know of no exceptions to them, that we cannot help believing them, and that they are indispensable to science and to consistent thought. Logic, then, may be briefly defined as the science of proof with respect to qualitative laws and propositions, except those that are axiomatic.

Bearing this in mind, let us turn our attention to the ancient conjuration spell Cacodemon, which has fallen out of use among summoners who, these days, prefer a more versatile or powerful approach to planar summoning. This perilous exercise in dweomercraeft summons up a powerful demon of type IV (Nalfeshnee), V (Marilith), or VI (Balor), or another demon having a given name, e.g. a succubus or a quasit, depending upon the demon’s name being known to the magic-user. Only the given name of the creature in question is necessary to work this spell, as compared to ensnarement which requires the true name, but on the other hand this spell can only bring about demons, not devils or other such lower planar creatures. Note that this spell is not of sufficient power to bring a demon of greater power, and lesser sorts are not called as they have no known given names. In any event, the spell caster must know the name of the demon they are summoning.

As the spell name implies, the demon so summoned is angry and evilly disposed. The spell caster must be within a circle of protection and the demon confined within a pentagram if they are to avoid being slain or carried of by the summoned cacodemon. The summoned demon can be treated as follows: The spell caster can require the monster to perform a desired course of action by force of threat and pain of a spiritwrack spell, allowing freedom whenever the demon performs the full extent of the service, and forcing the demon to pledge word upon it. This is exceedingly dangerous, as a minor error in such a bargain will be seized upon by the monster to reverse the desired outcome or simply to kill and devour the summoner. Furthermore, the demon will bear great enmity for the magic-user forever after such forced obedience, so the spell caster had better be most powerful and capable.

By tribute of fresh human blood and the promise of one or more human sacrifices, the summoner can bargain with the demon for willing service. Again, the spell caster is well advised to have ample protection and power to defend himself or herself, as the demon might decide the offer is insufficient — or it is easier to enjoy the summoner’s slow death — and decide not to accept the bargain as offered. Although the demon will have to abide by a pledge, as his name is known, they will have to hold only to the exact word of the arrangement, not to its spirit. As this method to strike a bargain is most often used by highly evil magic-users the demon may very well be favorably disposed towards its summoner. The summoned demon can be the object of a trap the soul spell. In this case, the magic user will not speak with or bargain for the demon’s services, although the demon might be eager to reach an accord with the dweomercraefter before they is forced into imprisonment. The trapping of the demon is risky only if proper precautions have not been taken, for failure to confine the monster usually means only that it is able to escape to its own plane. If the demon is later freed, and the individual doing thus fails to demand a service when the monster asks what is required of him, the demon is under no constraint not to slay the liberator(s) on the spot, but if a service is required, the creature must first to his best to perform it and then return to the Abyss.

The duration of service of any demon must be limited unless the demon is willing to serve for an extended period. Any required course of action or service which effectively requires an inordinate period of time to perform, or is impossible to perform, is 50% likely to free the demon from his obligations and enable him to be unconstrained in his vengeance upon the spell caster if they are not thereafter continually protected, for a demon so freed can remain on the plane it was summoned to for as long as 666 days.

[The book continues on like this for hundreds of pages]

 

[not-so-newguy]

Divinations, Strahd, Vallaki​

The Gang arrived in the Vistani Encampment of Madam Eva and were greeted by a towering man named Thalion. Thalion also hailed from the world of Faerun, coincidently he was living the town of Secomber which was less than a week’s travel east of Daggerfall where the Gang was originally based. The Paladin was hired by the local authorities to deal with some Vistani camping outside of Secomber’s walls. When he talked to these travelers, they agreed to leave if Thalion agreed to listen to their tale. He assented. Below is a synopsis of the story. (See previous post under subtitle “Madam Eva’s Encampment” for full account).

These Vistani told of an incident that occurred centuries ago. A nobleman had arrived in their campsite who was grievously injured and these ancestral Vistani returned him to health. The nobleman never forgot their favor. He went on to become ruler of the land. Eventually his lust for power corrupted him, which led him to be influenced by dark powers. These dark powers turned him into a vampire and his lands a place of evil that were cut off from the rest of the world. Never forgetting the Vistani’s mercy, this nobleman only allowed them to come and go from his lands. Everyone else was trapped there.

The Vistani asked Thalion to return to their camp in Barovia. Once there, he would meet with other heroes who would help rid the land of this evil. Once he met these companions, then they would receive divinations from Madam Eva to help on their quest.

Being a Paladin, Thalion ate it up, agreed to go, and that’s why he was there waiting for them.

Lore that Thalion learned from the Vistani

• The nobleman in the story above was Strahd (dun, dun, duuun).
• Strahd came from a royal bloodline. He died centuries ago yet endures as a vampire, feasting on the blood of the living. Barovians refer to him as “the devil Strahd” or “the Blood Wolf.”
• Strahd has taken many consorts, but he has only one true love: A Barovian peasant girl named Tatyana that lived centuries ago.
• Strahd named Ravenloft after his mother, Queen Ravenovia. Strangers aren’t welcomed there without an invitation.
• Strahd conquered the land centuries ago and named it after his father, King Barov.
• There’s an old windmill on the road between the village of Barovia and Vallaki. It should be avoided at all costs!
• Ravens carry lost souls within them. Killing one is bad luck.

Vistani Tells Another Story​

(a.k.a. the DM stretches out the scene while waiting for a late Player)

They drank some wine and greeted the rest of the Vistani. Nothing like doing some day drinking in the midmorning. In all fairness, these folks were a bright spot in an otherwise dreary world, and everyone was having a good time. Except Ireena, who seemed uncomfortable in the Vistani presence. One of the campers decided to share a story.

“A mighty wizard came to this land over a year ago. I remember him like it was yesterday. He sat exactly where you were sitting. A charismatic man, he was. He thought he could rally the people of Barovia against the devil Strahd. He stirred them with thoughts of revolt and bore them to the castle en masse.

“When the vampire appeared, the wizard’s peasant army fled in terror. A few stood their ground and were never seen again.

“The wizard and the vampire cast spells at each other. Their battle flew from the courtyards of Ravenloft to a precipice overlooking the falls. These falls are just a few miles northwest from here and feed into this river right next to us.

“I saw the battle with my own eyes. Thunder shook the mountainside, and great rocks tumbled down upon the wizard, yet by his magic he survived. Lightning from the heavens struck the wizard, and again he stood his ground. But when the devil Strahd fell upon him, the wizard’s magic couldn’t save him. I saw him thrown a thousand feet to his death. I climbed down to the river to search for the wizard’s body, to see if, you know, he had anything of value, but the River Ivlis had already spirited him away.”

They’ve heard this story before from Father Donavich. His son Doru was part of that peasant army, and apparently, he was a part of that army that stood their ground.

The deep toll of a bell was heard from the east once, then clanged tunelessly several times after that. The Gang surmised that it came from the church in the Village of Barovia. The significance of it was lost on them.

“It’s probably time to meet Madam Eva,” said the Vistani. Without further ado, the Gang entered Madam Eva’s tent.

Madam Eva’s Divinations
Magic flames cast a reddish glow over the interior of the tent, revealing a low table covered in black velvet cloth. Glints of light seemed to flash from a crystal ball on the table as a hunched figure peered into its depths. The crone spoke and her voice crackled like dry weeds. “At last, you have arrived! I suppose you would like to hear the divinations that will help defeat Strahd.” Cackling laughter burst from her withered lips.

The Gang, except Thalion, suffered from a collective bout of déjà vu as they sat down crisscross-applesauce around the low table. Madam Eva produced a deck of cards from within her robes and laid out five cards with slow deliberation. She paused, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and began the divination:

“The first card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancient will help you better understand your enemy.”
She flipped the first card.
“The Elementalist. The treasure is hidden in a small castle beneath a mountain, guarded by amber giants.

“The second card tells of a powerful force for good and protection, a holy symbol of great hope”
She flipped the second card.
“The Torturer. There is a town where all is not well. There you will find a house of corruption, and within, a dark room full of still ghosts

“The third is a card of power and strength. It tells of a weapon of vengeance: A sword of sunlight.”
She flipped the third card.
“The Missionary. I see a garden dusted with snow, watched over by a scarecrow with a sackcloth grin. Look not to the garden but to the guardian.

“The fourth card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness.”
She flipped the fourth card.
“The Innocent. I see a young man with a kind heart. A motherless boy! He is strong in body but weak of mind. Seek him out in the Village of Barovia.

“Your enemy is a creature of darkness, whose powers are beyond mortality. This last card will lead you to him.”
She flipped the last card.
“The Executioner. I see a dark figure on a balcony, looking down upon this tortured land with a twisted smile. That is all I can provide. The divination is finished.”

The Gang filed out of the tent and discussed what to do next. Their discussion focused on the fourth card, and they quickly deduced that ‘The Innocent’ was referencing Parriwimple who was the nephew of Bildrath the owner of Bildrath’s Mercantile in the Village of Barovia. They checked with Ireena before deciding to return to the Village and she grudgingly acquiesced.

But first, they needed to get there.

The Gang spent the rest of the day in the Vistani encampment and left at the crack of dawn.

Meeting at the Crossroads​

Roos was the first to spot them. The Gang had been traveling for thirty or forty minutes and were approaching the fork in the road where they could travel west which led to Vallaki or east where they could travel back to the Village of Barovia. At the split, Roos saw a tall white flag with a gathering of a handful of people in front of it. They were clearly facing the Gang and seemingly waiting for them. They could tell that the gathering was comprised of two males and three females as the Gang drew closer. They were all wearing the finest clothing as if they were ready to attend a ball. Roos, then the rest of them, could hear a pastoral tune being played on a lute. The male in the purple breast coat was strumming on it. Ireena whispered with a tremor in her voice “Morninglord protect us, I think that’s Strahd” and she was correct.

A tall white flag had been planted in the dirt of the crossroads. In front of it were four beings all dressed up: three females in party dresses and a male in a purple breast coat strumming on a lute. In front of the quadruplet was a man in a red breast coat and black overcoat who was holding up his hands in supplication and smiling. “Parley. Please. I only wish to talk. We offer no harm.” He said in a pseudo-Slavic accent.

“My name is Strahd von Zarovich and these are my consorts.” He gestured behind him.

“Ludmilla,” a woman wearing a white dress and gold jewelry gave a curt nod. She was cold and imperious, eyeing the Gang with calculation.

“Anastrasya,” a woman in a red dressed gave a sneer, but otherwise didn’t give any other acknowledgement. She flexed her claw hands; she seemed ready to break the promise of parley at any moment.

“Volenta,” she was dressed in a golden hued dress and wore a strange skull for a mask. She had a mercurial and flirtatious way about her. She giggled and waved.

“And finally, Escher.” He was more interested in his lute than anything else. He gave a brief nod and smiled, then turned his attention back to his lute.







“I am sure you’ve heard some terrible things about me already. I am afraid that some of them may be true, but I had my reasons for my actions. I have also noticed that you do not always behave ethically. Such as… betting that your friend will die rather than helping him? Contemplating the sacrifice of the same friend? Contributing to the suicide of a sacred priest of the Morninglord?

“Wait, Father Donavich is dead?!”

“Yes, that bell you heard was him hanging himself.” Answered Strahd. “Ireena, are these the heroes that you hoped for?”

The Gang voiced their objections and claimed he was far worse.

“Alas, these are merely rhetorical. I am sure you had good reasons, as I have. My point is that none of us are without blemish.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Thalion proudly claimed.

“Ooooh, I’m going to like you.” Volenta teased.

“Now,” Strahd continued, “for the matter at hand. I have shown up now in force as a proof of concept. The concept being that I, along with my consorts, could defeat you soundly at any time and there would be nothing that you could do about it. Do you not agree?”

The Gang merely stared, not wanting to cede anything.

“Yet I choose not to do so. I wish for peace, and I wish to prove to you and Ireena that I am a worthy man of reason.

“Most importantly, I hope that Ireena will eventually see that the safest place is at my side.” Strahd spoke directly to Ireena, who was standing behind the Gang. “You are no mere bauble to be possessed, but the reincarnation of my lost bride Tatyana. Through the centuries I have lost you repeatedly, yet your soul always returns to Barovia. Always returns. I am now seeing the errors in my ways. I am not to take you. You are to choose to come to me without trickery on my part. I hope that I am worthy.”

“Eat [expletive], [expletive].” Ireena answered.

A look of pain crossed Strahd’s face, then he went on “your low opinion of me will change in time. Like I was saying, my pacific appearance here is proof that I am choosing peace. In my castle, as we speak, preparations have just started. I hope everyone to spend the night there and dine with us. I will prove to you that you are safe while in my care. You can expect a written invitation when preparations are completed.

“Ireena, I understand that you do not trust me. I understand that you will probably not be there… this time. Perhaps in the future? For I hope that this upcoming dinner will merely be the first of many such meetings.

“Now, I have said my piece. If there is nothing else…?”

Yor spoke up. “No Parley.” He drew his sword in an obvious challenge to Strahd. The vampire rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance. With a flick of Strahd’s fingers, Yor’s whole outlook on the situation changed. Why was he challenging this great guy? What was the problem here? Yor sheathed his sword.

“Perhaps you should come to Castle Ravenloft with us now?” Strahd offered to Yor. Oh gosh, nothing sounded better than to do just that. They could hang out. It would just be the best! The Kenku nodded vigorously.

“Nah. We will make our leave.” With that, Strahd and his consorts transformed into bats and flew away. Yor dropped to his knees weeping. Why would his best friend abandon him like that? What could he do better so that Strahd would think he was cool?

Skarther the Goblin scrutinized Strahd’s words. He realized that when the vampire listed off the sins of the party, it failed to mention Moss’s plea to Ireena to just give in to Strahd. Huh, peculiar. The goblin thought that that would have been mentioned. Why was that? Where did Moss say those words again? As matter of fact, how did Strahd know of the sins that it did mention?

Bildrath’s Mercantile​

The Gang returned to the Village of Barovia and entered Bildrath’s Mercantile, except the Kenku. While the rest of the party were in the store, the heartbroken warlock stayed outside and stared with miserable longing at Castle Ravenloft that could be seen off in the distance. The rest of them spoke to Bildrath himself and made a plea for Parriwimple’s help. Bildrath flat out refused. They offered money and tried to persuade with logic.

“The best I can do is absolutely not.”

Bildrath reasoned that Parri’s mother ran off a year ago with a bunch of other fools and got herself killed. He wasn’t going to let them do that to her son. Plus, they weren’t the first adventurers to try this nonsense.

They asked to speak to Parri. “Oh Parriwimple!” The huge man came down the stairs with an affable grin on his face.

They tried to persuade Parriwimple, appealing to his sense of agency and independence but again failed. “I’ll do whatever my uncle says. He’s my only family” was his response.

Thalion stepped in and tried to intimidate Bildrath. When Parri saw the look of fear on Bildrath’s face he called out “No one hurts Uncle Bildrath!” He quickly had Thalion subdued.

Out of options, the Gang left the store failing to procure Parriwimple.

Dream Pastries​

With the downtrodden warlock in tow, the Gang wandered through the Village of Barovia after leaving the store. While they made to leave the village, they happened upon a little old lady pushing a creaking wooden cart. The aroma of tasty mincemeat pies reached their nostrils.

“Oh hello, would you like one of my Dream Pastries? The first one is free, but it’s a gold piece after that. I’m sure you’ll be a loyal customer for life after the first bite of this mincemeat pie! They’re always delicious, but taste best when they’re warm.” She chortled.

Smugly, the Dragonborn, was the first to accept. He immediately felt relief from all his troubles. In fact, he was stronger and braver than ever! Wow, the clouds and the drizzle were particularly beautiful today, weren’t they?

Roos accepted the pastry and shoved it in front of Yor’s face. “Here. Eat this. It’ll make you feel better.” Yor pecked at the pie reluctantly at first, then consumed the rest with relish. Any thought of Strahd quickly evaporated as he was enveloped in a painless sea of tranquility.

Skarther accepted the pie and broke it open, then smelled it. It smelled delicious. He tried to discern its contents but could only determine that it was made from some sort of meat. He wrapped it up and put it in his bag.

Thalion and Ireena absconded.

Although Roos didn’t eat any, he decided to buy five more and packed them away.

“Have a wonderful day!” With that, the old lady hobbled down the cobblestone street calling out “Dreeeam Pastries! Dreeeam Pastries!”

Road to Vallaki​

Now with a high as heck Dragonborn and Kenku in tow, the Gang left the Village of Barovia and made for Vallaki. They passed the crossroads and soon came upon a gallows and small cemetery. They quickly moved on. Soon they were at the foot of Mount Ghakis and the road ascended steeply through some forest. The roar of a waterfall was heard after some time. Around noon they were at Tser Falls. This was where the wizard was reportedly defeated by Strahd.

The road clung to the side of the mountain and ended at an arching bridge of engraved stone. Gargoyle statues cloaked in black moss perched on the corners of the bridge, their frowns weatherworn. On the mountainous side of the bridge, a waterfall spilled into a misty pool nearly a thousand feet below. The pool fed a river that meandered into the fog-shrouded pines that blanketed the valley.

Most of the Gang paused, knowing that most statues are usually not what they appear. Thalion, unaware of any trouble, blithely walked across the bridge. When the Gargoyles didn’t animate and attack, the rest of the Gang crossed. Now they were travelling along the base of Mount Balinok.

They soon came across another crossroads. A sign stated that the east road led to Castle Ravenloft while the northwest road led to Vallaki. They traveled northwest. The Old Svalich Road transitioned here from being a winding path through the Balinok Mountains to a lazy trail that hugged the mountainside as it descended into a fog-filled valley. In the heart of the valley, they saw a walled town near the shores of a large mountain lake, its waters dark and still. A branch in the road led west to a promontory, atop which perched a dilapidated stone windmill, its warped wooden vanes stripped bare. The Gang continued north toward the town. After several hours travel, they had reached the outskirts of Vallaki.

All is Well​

The dirt road ended at a set of sturdy gates attached to a wooden palisade that surrounded the town. The silhouettes of pike carrying town guard were patrolling on top of the palisade as well as two figures on the other side of the gates. A handful of abandoned houses were scattered around the party outside of the walls. Most disconcerting were the wolves’ heads that were mounted on tall stakes flanking the road leading up to the entrance.

The guard clanged his pike against the gate, “Hey! Who’s there? State your business! All is well!”

The Gang sort of looked at each other, waiting for somebody to speak.

“Oh great adventurers… and there’s an Elf…” Skarther gave a pointy-toothed grin, “and there’s even weirder than that. All is well.” The guard flatly stated. The Gang whispered to Ireena and nudged her to the fore.

“uh… I’m Ireena Indirovich, daughter of Kolyan Indirovich, Burgermeister of Barovia Village. I respectfully request entry into the town of Vallaki…uh… All is well?” She didn’t mention her father’s death to avoid complications. The first guard was stunned into silence.

“Pardon us, my Lady” The other guard stepped forward and the gates were opened. “You’ll be wanting the Baron Vargas mansion, I suppose. Maybe the Blue Water Inn? Head down Svalich Road here until you hit Wall Street. Blue Water Inn is located on the east end of that street while the Baron’s mansion is on the west end. I recommend the wolf steaks at Blue Water. All is well.”

The first guard regained his pride. “Some pointy-eared Elf is staying there. You people might like him. Not least of all cuz he came in on a carnival wagon. Heh. All is well!” Hollered the guard when there was a comfortable distance between them.

The town of Vallaki evidently had much more commerce than Barovia Village, judging by the number of people traversing its streets. Constant murmurs of “All is well” could be heard from any passerby. The phrase was used as a greeting, a farewell, and an acknowledgement. As the Gang continued down Old Svalich Road, they came across the Town Square.

The shops that enclosed the Town Square were decorated with limp, tattered garlands and painted wooden boxes filled with tiny dead flowers. At the north end of the Square stood a row of stocks in which were several men, women, and children wearing crude plaster donkey heads.

In the center of the Square, peasants in patchwork clothes eyed the Gang suspiciously as they used cups and vases to draw water from a crumbling stone fountain. Standing tall at the center of the fountain was a gray statue of an impressive man facing west. All around the Square were posted proclamations:

COME ONE, COME ALL

TO THE GREATEST CELEBRATION OF THE YEAR:

THE WOLF’S HEAD JAMBOREE!!!

ATTENDANCE AND CHILDREN REQUIRED.

ALL WILL BE WELL!

---THE BARON---​

Roos asked a commoner “what’s this Jamboree all about? Oh…All is well.”

“All is well. The Wolf’s Head Jamboree was the most recent festival. Held two days ago. Burgermeister Vallakovich declared that the festival of the Blazing Sun will be held in the Town Square in twelve days. All is well.” The commoner parted quickly, and the Gang continued to the Blue Water Inn.

The Blue Water Inn​

As the grey day of Barovia dimmed into night, the Gang finally reached the Blue Water Inn. The Inn was a two storied building with a stone foundation and a sagging tiled roof where several ravens were perched. A painted sign hung over the main entrance that depicted a blue waterfall. Stairs along the side of the entrance led up to the second floor.

The Gang walked inside and discovered a Half Elf in a fancy floppy hat pacing around the room, while his audience sat in rapt attention. He was regaling the group of the story about a mischievous werehare boy; the plot of the tale was something like Peter Cottontail. Smirks and occasional laughter could be heard from the audience and a round of applause was given when he finished. The Half Elf held out a sack and collected some coins from his audience.

The Gang sat at the bar. Rooms were rented. Smugly and Yor, still under the influence of Dream Pastries, were sent to bed. Ireena also retired from the taproom.

Skarther tried flirting with the female barkeep who was a striking woman with black hair that had a white stripe down the middle. “You look like a skunk!” Skarther said with a poop eating grin. He assumed this compliment would be a great opener. The conversation went downhill from there.

Having witnessed the Goblin’s painful conversation with the barkeep, the Gang decided to sit with the Half Elf for a while. They found a quiet corner of the taproom where they could have their conversation in confidence. His name was Rictavio, and he was also from Faerun; based in The Moonsea area. He had wandered into a strange mist and entered Barovia about a month ago. Here’s what he knows:

• Be careful about what you say in town. People who espouse doubt in the festivals are thrown in the stocks.
• People who are deemed evil by the Baron are taken to his mansion, so they can be “purged” of their evil.

• Purple flashes of light have been seen emanating from the attic of the Burgermeister’s Mansion. I’m convinced that that creepy kid Victor dabbles in magic and evil.
• South of town is a village that has been abandoned for decades. The former Burgermeister committed some terrible offense and incurred the wrath of Strahd.
• There’s a Vistani camp southwest of Vallaki. They are not friendly and are not welcomed in Vallaki.
• When pressed about his knowledge of Vistani, Rictavio was reluctant. There is some obvious tension here that he doesn’t want to disclose.
• Vallakians generally distrust all nonhumans.
• No, the festivals shouldn’t be dangerous for nonhumans. Are they fun? As much as forced fun can be, I suppose.
• Was the Gang’s feathered friend a wereraven? No? Ok, never heard of Kenkus.
• The Gang told him about their adventure in Durst Manor, hoping to be immortalized by the bard. Rictavio listened patiently. He disappointed the group when he informed them that his audience only wants to hear cheerful silly tales.
• St Andral’s was on the west end of town. Father Lucian was a genuinely kind man who held nightly mass for those who needed succor in this fearful land.

There was quite a bit of Q&A here that I can’t fully recall. Suffice to say, the Gang and Rictavio got along well.

The Gang retired for the evening. Up in their room, they discovered that the Dream Pastry had caused Yor to regress to his crow nature. His mattress had been torn to shreds and repurposed as a large nest. Everyone had a full night’s rest.

Justice, Thalion Style​

The Gang awoke at the crack of dawn with precisely eight hours sleep like only D&D characters can do, this is indeed high fantasy. Smugly and Yor awoke with slight headaches and defied the urge to rifle through Roos’s backpack for more Dream Pastries. They’re goal today was to visit St Andral’s Church and finally rid themselves of this escort mission. Ireena was great and all, but it would be nice to have her safe and out of their hair, um, feathers…er…scales. Whatever. Roos dropped some gold pieces at the bar with a note saying ‘sorry about the bed!’ before they left.

They headed to the west end of Vallaki and entered the church. The layout was the same as the church in the Village of Barovia. Apparently, the nightly vigils left the priest unavailable in the mornings. Well, the Gang was having none of that. They knocked on Father Lucian’s door. The Priest of the Morninglord opened the door wearing nightgown, cap, and only one sock.

“Eh? What? What can I do to help you?”

“Our friend needs your help. She’s being harassed by Strahd, and we think you can protect her.”

The mention of Strahd smacked the sleepiness out the priest’s body. “Well, I will see what I can do.” He spotted the Paladin, and he perked up even more. “Wow, ok, I have something to show you. Let me grab a crowbar.” Father Lucian rifled through his room and entered the hallway. “I think you can help with this. Follow me.”

He led them further into the church where they found the altar and pews. With crowbar in hand, Lucian walked onto the other side of the altar and began prying up the stones. He spoke while he worked, “you see, this used to be hallowed, grr, ground until a few, gah, days ago. That’s when, uurr, someone stole, grrrr, the bones of St Andral. There. Now you can see.” The Morninglord priest had pried up the false stone tiles and pointed at an empty crypt in the ground. “Normally, this place is protected from all undead, including vampires. But without the bones of Saint Andral in this crypt, the church’s naked against any such attack.”

Father Lucian continued, “the only other person who knows about the bones is my assistant Yeska. But Yeska is a good lad who would never harm anyone. I suspect that Milivoj, the gravedigger is involved in such mischief.” The normally cheerful countenance of Thalion turned stern. “I would confront the teenager myself, but he’s very temperamental and I’m afraid that violence would ensue.” Thalion was getting angrier with each word. “Please, Milivoj is just misguided. I need you to confront the lad without violence. I beg you. This world is dark enough as it is. No need to make it worse.”

“I’ll handle this.” Thalion responded. “Where is Yeska?”

“He’s asleep in the quarters next to mine.”

The Paladin stomped down the hall, clear in purpose. He opened Yeska’s door and slammed it shut behind him. A squeal of pain was heard by the Gang waiting in the hall, presumably from Yeska. There was an audible thump. Then Thalion’s harsh commanding voice of “Where is he?!” Some soft murmuring. Thalion returned to the hall and slammed the door behind him.

“Milivoj did it. He should be out back in the cemetery. Let’s go.” Too startled to argue, the Gang followed the Paladin through the back of the church and into the cemetery.

A lone young man was found busy throwing dirt on a grave with his back towards the group.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Commanded Thalion.

“Just burying this old lady here.” Milivoj said meekly, glancing at the Paladin who had a full head of steam.

“Where are the Bones of Saint Andral?”

“I…I…uh…it was the coffin maker, Henrik. I gave them to him. He offered me money. I needed it for my fam-”

“Don’t care.” Thalion kicked the young man, and he landed in the open grave with a grunt. “Stay down there.” He kicked dirt on the groundskeeper.

The Paladin marched back into the church with everyone else a step behind him. “Where’s the coffin maker, Henrik? He’s responsible.”

“His shop is on the southeastern side of town, near the southwest gate.” Said the stunned priest. It was all happening so fast. The Gang took the quickest route possible as they hustled to the coffin maker’s shop. It took them less than ten minutes to find it.

Thalion pounded on the door. No answer. He tried opening it. Locked. Thalion kicked it open with his boot of righteous indignation and busted that sucker open. He walked in and discovered a disheveled man walking down the stairs.

“Where are they?”

“Wha-”

“The Bones of Saint Andral. Where are they?"

“I… oof” Thalion grabbed him by his nightshirt and drew him close. He could smell the sour evidence of last night’s drinking; sweat poured through the coffin maker’s pasty skin. “Please!? Not here. I’ll tell you outsi-” The Paladin manhandled the poor wretch outside where the rest of the Gang was waiting. Onlookers were starting to stop and gawk.

“Where are the bones?”

“Upstairs in my room. There’s a secret compartment in my wardrobe. You can find the bones there.” Thalion turned to Smugly.

“Go get the bones.” The Dragonborn raced up the stairs.

“Be CAREFUL! There are six Vampire Spawn in the upstairs junk room.” The monk nodded and continued. He found the bones in a large sack and raced back down the stairs. They determined they were indeed human bones.

“Get these to Saint Andral’s and give them to Father Lucian.” The Dragonborn raced back to the church.

“Confess. Now!” Thalion’s eyes bored into the coffin maker.

The words fell out of Henrik van der Voort’s mouth like water through a sieve. “It was a powerful vampire. She said she was Strahd’s consort, and her name was Anastrasya. She came disguised at first to fool anyone that witnessed her passing but changed to her true form once she gained access to my shop. They planned to attack the church, but the bones protected it. They gave me the money to bribe the gravedigger. I had no choice. She forced me to do it.” Henrik broke down.

A crowd of about a dozen people formed a half circle around the outskirts of the house. Four guards broke through the line of people.

“What’s going on here?!” A guard demanded.

The Kenku invoked the spell Enthrall and kept the guards and half of the onlookers distracted with his magical gibberish.

Stay tuned for the next recap of a Middling DM runs Curse of Straaahd!

END SESSION​