Amidst the twisted trees and fog-covered path, The Nefarious Do-Gooders tread carefully, having already been swallowed by the world of Barovia. The road, as ancient as the land itself, led them to a village. A grandiose gate, seemingly ancient and untouched by time, stood before them, its doors mysteriously creaking open to welcome the party. But the fog, that ever-persistent specter, refused to cross the threshold, halting as if repelled by some unseen force.
The keen senses of Elora the Majestic, now intertwined with the very essence of nature, detected the acrid stench of death. A scent that beckoned her and Thorn into the underbrush where a ghastly discovery awaited. A lifeless messenger, his final moments marked by the savage prints of dire wolves, clutched a desperate plea. The parchment whispered tales of the vampire Strahd’s reign of terror.
As the party ventured further, the village draped itself in an eerie gloom, casting shadows even under the noonday sun. A distant lament, the mournful cries of a soul in anguish, echoed through the desolate streets. Amidst the familiar yet foreboding structures, Tempest’s eyes locked onto a hauntingly familiar house — one that bore memories of malevolent intent.
Approaching the house, Maledurk’s deft fingers sought to unlock its secrets, only to be interrupted by the appearance of a man. His movements were stiff, his demeanor devoid of emotion, as if some invisible puppeteer pulled his strings. His words, urging them to the tavern, felt like a rehearsed script from a play of dread.
Within the dimly lit Blood of the Vine tavern, the Do-Gooders encountered more of these marionette-like souls. The bartender, mechanical in his actions, provided them shelter for the night. Amongst the patrons, three women whispered of the missing burgomaster, their voices tinged with fear and uncertainty. A stranger, seated in a darkened corner, extended an offer — a bridge to the elusive burgomaster.
Weary from their journey and the weight of Barovia’s suffocating atmosphere, the group sought solace in their chambers, letting the night envelop them. For tomorrow, they would face the mysteries that this cursed land held, fortified and ready.