In the shadow-draped village of Barovia, where the mist clings like a shroud and the sun is a stranger, the Nefarious Do-Gooders found themselves within the melancholic walls of the Blood of the Vine tavern. Their arrival in this haunted land was no less mysterious than the fog that seemed to choke the very air around them. They gathered, a beacon of resolve in the gloom, discussing their next move when Ismark, a local whose aura was steeped in desolation, approached with a plea that would set the course for their next adventure.
Ismark led the Nefarious Do-Gooders to his ancestral mansion, a somber edifice pockmarked by the relentless assaults of Strahd’s minions. The Burgomaster, Ismark’s father, lay dead not by the tooth or nail of the creatures that serve the vampire lord but by the relentless terror they wrought. Death by fear—a grim testament to Strahd’s cruelty. In the dim light, the group surveyed the claw marks that scarred the walls and the scorch marks that marred its once proud visage, remnants of the nightly horrors that the house withstood.
Within these besieged walls, they met Ireena, Ismark’s sister by bond, not blood. A woman whose past was as enigmatic as the eerie light that never quite reaches Barovia’s heart. Bitten, not once, but twice by Strahd, she was bound to the vampire through some dark enchantment, her memory of times before her arrival at the village gates as faded as the hope that once thrived in this land.
The Nefarious Do-Gooders, ever the champions of the downtrodden, agreed to Ismark’s requests: a solemn burial for the Burgomaster and a perilous journey to Vallaki, where Ireena might escape the reach of Strahd’s shadow. Before they could embark on this quest, Ireena insisted upon a proper burial for the man who had been both father and protector to her.
Elora, driven by a mixture of suspicion and wisdom, investigated the Burgomaster’s coffin for any sign of Strahd’s deceit. Her cautious inspection revealed nothing amiss, and thus, the Nefarious Do-Gooders lifted the coffin, their hearts laden with the weight of the task, and made for the church to lay the Burgomaster to rest.
The church, standing forlorn at the town’s edge, bore the scars of the same relentless siege that had claimed the Burgomaster. Debris littered its interior, a physical manifestation of the spiritual desecration it had suffered. Within its hallowed yet defiled walls, they found Father Donovich, a man whose faith was being tested by unseen horrors, evidenced by the inhuman screams that filled the chapel.
Under Donovich’s rushed and tremulous prayers, they interred the Burgomaster in the hallowed yet desolate ground. Ismark, though grateful, couldn’t hide his dismay at the ceremony’s hastiness—a far cry from the dignified farewell he had envisioned for his father.
With the burial concluded, the Nefarious Do-Gooders gathered to discuss their next move. Thorn, whose curiosity was as boundless as the skies he wished to explore, took to the air. His reconnaissance of Castle Ravenloft was an ascent into a maelstrom of despair. The castle stood defiant amidst a storm of its own making—a bulwark of evil against the backdrop of a cursed land.
The Nefarious Do-Gooders stood united, their resolve unshaken by the oppressive gloom of Barovia. Before them lay a land ensnared by the dark will of Strahd von Zarovich. They were not merely outsiders to this plight but now key players in the unfolding drama of this land. Their deeds, whether they be of light or shadow, would shape the fate of Barovia, its people clinging to the hope that these Nefarious Do-Gooders might be the dawn to vanquish the night.