Plot Hunters

Distant rememberings of a mad lich

There were five. Five fingers to a hand, five toes to a foot, five points to a star, but not to the sun. Together they made up a whole. Could be whole without one, though. Plenty of hands missing a finger. They work just fine if you care to learn to use them.

The man cast a spell to learn of other spells. I felt it like a fingernail flicking the inside of my throat. I felt their little feeling hands on my phylactery. They asked whether I should live or die and decided I was not worth death. I am Exethanther and I am too far gone for death to touch me. This is death.

They found my library. They found the door that led them there and tried to read books with words they cannot see. Those words are not for them. Not for me. For someone else. Someone with no souls to save. No sisters, no sorrow, no chains, no bloody hands.

There were living things dead down there. Strength from blood, not magic. Cursed. The prodding ones came to find a curse. They came for knowledge like any others might.

Like with any others, knowledge is not the only prize to be won. There is treasure here. Great treasure. Treasure guarded by golems who seek no prize at all. They are lucky it cannot follow past the threshold. I hope it is worth it.

The machinations of a hag

Four little ducklings all lined up in a row. Dangerous ducklings who killed my favorite niece in cold blood. Wait until they fall asleep in a place they think is safe, then make sure they don’t wake up again.

To start, Alina. Little girl lost has strayed so far away from home. Not to worry. Plenty of men and dogs to guide her back. Who can truly be blamed if the dogs bite and she needs a chain or two?  She’s worth more alive than dead, but a little blood never really hurt a noble warrior.

Then, Cruz. One last glorious night with a man who will never be his again. It’s time to let go. He can’t and it will lead him into the arms of a people who exist to destroy. It’s never a challenge to shackle a weak-hearted man.

Next, Meihra. A beautiful ball held by a certain mistress with very exotic pets. Meihra does love to dress up and mingle in society. She will discover that anything goes for the rich. She will also see her sweet sister again, though not quite in the manner she’d prefer.

Finally, Veryn. Can you ever truly leave behind those who made you? She can’t. She never did. Pain is to be expected. Nothing can be gained without pain, blood. She will cause herself and Cruz a great deal of pain if she knows what’s good for her.

Things did not go to plan. Meihra and Alina conquered their shared dream, then Veryn and Cruz did the same. They fell into the maze and found the Soulmonger, killed my Bodak, wrecked my plans, and woke. I don’t know why I bother.

Musings overheard in a conversation between Kasimir and himself

I’m beginning to have my doubts about this little group. Most of the time they seem plenty strong of heart and mind, but they keep opening doors we already know lead to a smattering of sarcophagi and some small yet destructive entity.

Take, for example, the big fucking frog. Not my or apparently Cruz’s idea of a particularly threatening foe, but it was enough to send Alina, Veryn, and Meihra packing. These are the moments that inspire doubt. Well, that and Alina actually accepting a gift offered by a shadow.

We had to run all the way to Krezk so the Abbot could exorcise the power and its consequences from her. She gained strength but she also gained an ego which drove her to try and prove she was stronger than her allies. They had to beat her into unconsciousness then placate her when she woke so she wouldn’t slaughter us all on the road.

The Abbot cleansed her. He unsettled me but he was helpful enough. They gave him some wine and he asked for a wedding dress for Vasilka, this strange, silent girl in his care. We rested at the abbey and I saw the group talking to her. There is something wrong in that abbey.

Just before we left, the Abbot delivered a message. From Strahd. Dinner at Ravenloft Castle. Of course, the summons went ignored and we returned to the temple. A black, driverless carriage followed us as far is it could. I fear it’s still out there, waiting to whisk us straight into Strahd’s waiting arms.

Musings from beyond the amber walls

More fools have come to wander the halls of the temple to the god of secrets. Alina, Meihra, Veryn, Cruz, Kasimir. As soon as they entered here nothing of these intruders had ever been unknown to us. All sought answers, but only the newcomer to this convocation of lost and searching souls meant to end up here.

They happened upon their boon quite quickly: detailed floor plans for Castle Ravenloft, the stronghold they must infiltrate. The seek to destroy the master of that place, the master of Barovia. The covetous dark lord has taken something from them all.

We remember when he stole freedom and hope from the people of this land. We remember the stolen son that drove Rictavio into the darkness, the foolish heart that told him to try and fight the inevitable battle alone. We see the sister of Kasimir cold in the Ravenloft catacombs.

We know the sorrows, dreams, fears of the four travellers trapped in this conflict. That they would still choose to move forward is a triumph in itself. But this is the temple of secrets, not triumphs, and secrets mean nothing if they are not kept.

The temple fights back. The strongest of them, Alina, has borne the brunt of it. She always gets back up, surges forward, but we taste her fear. She does not know if she will leave here alive.

She was offered the power to infect the world with her will, and she ignored it, kept it secret. This place has a complicated relationship with secrets.

We are not cruel, of course. We have sent Veryn and Meihra warnings through their reflections in the amber. All they suffer here now will be the fault of none but themselves. A chance to turn back was given and ignored.

Observations of a spirit of Yester Hill

I saw a girl on fire. It was only for a moment, but she lit up so bright I don’t know how no one else saw.

I followed her and her pack. She killed Wintersplinter with her skinny little sword like it was nothing, and the druids who darkened the sky had no idea their plans were already foiled.

They hid from the druids awhile and when they were gone they killed many of the spawn from the blighted tree with ease, then burned it and slunk away. I would’ve liked to stay and watch the impending blaze, but these adventurers put the first spark of curiosity in me since before I can remember. I had to follow.

They went to a lighthouse looking for someone called Rictavio. There is something familiar and wrong about that name all at once. They read a sad story he wrote about a son named Erasmus, a lich, and a Vistani curse. They pitied him until they hated him for abandoning them to fight Strahd alone.

They took everything he had. I suppose he won’t be needing it since he’s walking straight into his own grave.

I followed them to a mountain with a gate that admitted them and a wall of green fire that did not. The girl with the starlight wings nearly burned her arm off in it, even after watching the others unsuccessfully get things past the flames.

From the diary of Danika Markitov

That strange little quartet have been working overtime for us and I really couldn’t be more grateful. They freed us when we were captured in Vallaki and now they’ve cleared those druids out.

It was quite a few druids they cleared out, too. From the sheer amount of detritus left down there I’d have to say they took out a good number of blights as well. It’s been a good minute since any of us could accomplish something like that.

We didn’t know it when they left, but they managed to save some of our wine too. I feel a bit daft for being unsure of them in the beginning. All they’ve done since they showed up at the inn is help. The druid we found bound, stabbed, and having some issues with his extremities might not feel the same. He can get stuffed, though.

We sent those four off to retrieve one of our magic stones from those villains. Those stones are the only thing that allows our grapes to grow in this horrid place. They were a little squirrely about the whole thing but relented when we said the culprits were druids and the hag Baba Lasaga in her walking house.

They’re en route to Yester Hill now. A friend flew in just a moment ago and told us the sky’s blacked out over there and the druids were heard chanting “Wintersplinter” over and over again.. I fear something dark is being called into Barovia. I keep looking out at the horizon, though I don’t know what I expect to see.

The forces of darkness are working overtime these days. I fear nothing good awaits those adventurers in the forest.

The observations of Maeve the wereraven

I took them to Kresk, Ismark, Ireena, and the rest. Rictavio went off to some secret place before they met up with us at the Vistani camp but I’m sure he’ll find his way to us just fine. Meihra wanted to stop at a tower that was supposedly holy to ravenkind, though I think I’d know a thing like that. The four of them are going to investigate it later. Getting our charges to Kresk safely was the far more important task. For once, things seemed to be going well. The children were taken in by the burgomaster, the siblings found refuge, and the companions found work for a night’s room and board.

However, as always in Barovia, the peace didn’t last.

The next day Ireena saw someone in the pond at the north side of the village. Sergei, she called him. I witnessed the water reach up and drag her in, and before I could act, she was gone. As Meihra lept in after her, Strahd’s voice rang out across the heavens crying, “NO! SHE IS MINE!”, then a flash of lightning knocked out Meihra and Veryn. Cruz and Alina were able to bring them back to consciousness but things looked grim.

They stumbled to the Abbey of Saint Markovia to beg healing from the Abbot, one of the many strange and powerful beings of the land. In exchange for healing them he bade them find a wedding dress for his mute ward, Vasilka, and to find out why the wine delivery had been delayed. The Abbot also shared the tale of Sergei and his wife Tatyana, and how his brother Strahd destroyed their lives. Even the people closest to him are not safe from his nefarious will.

Testimony of a guardsman who refused to join the battle

You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to fight those animals. None of ‘em had a scrap of humanity left in their bodies. That massive dark-skinned half-elf tore off Izek’s arm and beheaded him! Frederick and Yorick tried running but only Yorick got away. She took Frederick down without mercy.

I saw Hendrick fight to the finish with the pasty giant. I thought he might win before that devil cleaved him in half at the waist. I also heard they found Alrick beaten to death near the church. They said Yorick had to identify him ‘cause his body was mush. Yet here I stand, on trial because I wasn’t willing to risk my life fighting a losing battle against those devils. I was supposed to come help, yeah. What’s it matter now? If you don’t execute me I’ll be slaughtered by the wolves or those criminals.

They disappeared right before the attack last night. They could’ve been involved for all I know! We don’t know a damned thing about them and they’re loose in Barovia. They’d be the ones on trial if they weren’t careless, bloodthirsty cowards.

Meet Alina, our Drow Half-Elf Barbarian! More artwork for our characters is to come, all made by one of our fantastic players! 

An excerpt from the diary of Rictavio, aka Rudolph van Richten

Bones: acquired. Hags: dispatched, but not dead. My sanity: waning. Before all of this is over I’m going to have an all-out brawl with at least one of those disrespectful fools. They never have a kind word unless they want something from me. I’m a grown man and I deserve respect. I do not deserve to be playing babysitter to the children they rescued from those hags. If anyone, it should be Cruz. Even before we burned the Old Bonegrinder he was doting on them like some sort of overgrown nursemaid. He treats me like we’re peers or something. He had the nerve to call us friends!

“Give me some juice, Rikki.”

I feel like a teenager and not in any of the good ways.

Veryn is absolutely the ugliest of the bunch. Despite knowing that the meat pies baked by the coven of hags were almost definitely made from children, she did what? Ate a pie! Luckily for her, I was there to administer a quick and effective antidote to the hallucinogenic effects of the pastry. She then administered it right back. I suppose she gets points for being ballsy.

Alina, a barbarian in more ways than one, might be a close second to Veryn. She “saved” the frogs by tossing them straight out of the window. The children, Franklin, Myrtle, and the dirty child who wouldn’t speak, managed to catch a few, but there were still a handful that splattered against the ground. As if these children weren’t already traumatized.

I still hear phantom croaks even now as Maeve and I watch over the children. Maeve the wereraven is here because the burgomaster is an idiot. Vallaki is on high alert, so of course my compatriots are trying to sneak in. It won’t go well.

As seen from the watchful eye of a common raven

Five more flightless ones came today, smoother than the three who cackle and kill stolen young. The two biggest kicked down the door, and there was a little yelling between the old ones and newcomers before the wretched Bella showed one of her truer faces. I was frightened, yes, but I remained perched in the window watching. If there was a fight there would be corpses, plenty of flesh for my kin and I.

And a fight there was. The woman elves made short work of the hag, the man longer work of the hound. Perched at a higher window, I witnessed the giant and the shimmering one discover the witches’ prey. The giant booted Offalia from the third floor with a mighty kick, to the dismay of her fast approaching mother, Morgatha. Die she did not, but even those cursed with dark power cannot fight forever. We ravens know of such things.

Lower then, back on my ground floor perch, I saw everything, then with a murmured word it was swallowed by darkness. With my head cocked to the side I heard the whine of a dying hound and the reshuffling of the survivors. The woman-elves didn’t have kind words for the man-elf as he fumbled in the dark but they had little time to titter. Morgatha arrived and drew them out, drew them right to her prone Offalia to beat her into another plane. We ravens know of such things.