It was only a dream… or so I thought at the moment of waking…
Mist swirled around us as we ran through the dense brush, the darkness of the approaching evening made more foreboding in the shadows cast by the canopy above us. Something behind us howled, blood-curdlingly close, as the pounding of our flight through the woods mixed with the sounds of pursuit – the crack of branches, the snarl of beasts. I could swear that I felt hot breath on my neck, as if the creatures’ jaws were about to snap closed on me, but when I glanced back there was nothing to be seen. Only the obscuring blur of the rising mists, mists that seemed as if they had congealed from a mix of the blood-magic-spawned rainstorm and the dying screams of its victim – Erik Bruns.
The billowing mists, not content with merely shrouding our vision, turned to a caustic, choking vapor, filling our lungs with its filth. My breath turned to a hoarse cough as I fought for air, driven forward by the howls of our pursuers. But the mists seemed to solidify – my legs dragged, my chest burned. Finally, there was no choice but to halt and collapse in the wet soil. My last view… fangs… no, bars… not soil, but bricks…
Ulrich was the first of us to awaken, and he in his gentle way (his words), woke the rest of us. It had been a dream… perhaps. Sitting there, in the cell that we now found ourselves, it was difficult to remember where our actual flight from the werewolves in Avabruck had ceased and where my mind had begun creating its own terrors. Maybe it doesn’t matter now, considering our new situation.
We were in a cell, our gear having been carefully stripped from us, but at least we seemed no worse off than we had been in Avabruck. At first, we believed that the ritual that we had interrupted had also been discovered by others – Edgar, perhaps, or some of the other party guests – and that we had been rescued, in our turn, after saving the lives of the Gavonite ambassador and his hapless squire. However, the accent of the guard who stood outside of the door and told us to shut our mouths was unusual – certainly not from Avabruck, and nothing that any of the three us us could place…
Mads was furious that were were imprisoned and desperate to be free, which I found odd seeing as how he was likely to be more used to this condition than the rest of us. Ulrich was already swearing vengeance against those that had locked us in here. As for Sebastian, he was nowhere to be seen.
Our new state of consciousness must have been something the guard was waiting for, because he soon returned with two other men – one who appeared to be in command, bearing obvious insignias of rank, and the other dressed more as a hunter, with darker hair and skin than his two companions. Both of them watched us for a moment, and I could see the suspicion in their eyes. Finally, after a rapid series of accusations and vague threats from Mads and Ulrich, the commander introduced himself as Captain Abelescu, accompanied by Dalca, his assistant. Again, his accent struck me as odd for Avabruck, but my thoughts were interrupted by both Mads and Ulrich demanding to be released. The captain was unfazed, and insisted that we answer his questions before he would consider any of our requests.
As I was convinced that this was a misunderstanding, I had no issue with answering his questions. The most likely situation was that we had been apprehended along with the werewolves led by the mayor, and that the soldiers could not be sure that we were part of them. The next most likely scenario seemed to be that we were in the captivity of the cult itself and that they already knew that we opposed them, thus we could not tell them anything they didn’t already know. The least likely possibility was that we were held by the werewolf cult and that they had no idea who we were, in which case the truth could mean our death. But the odds of the truth helping us was much greater than its opposite.
The actual case for our captivity turned out to be something that we could not have anticipated. As the captain questioned us on our identities and motives, it became apparent that he had never actually heard of the places and people that we mentioned – not Avabruck, not Gavony, not the Ulvenwald – nothing. Captain Abelescu told us that were were in a land called Barovia, which none of us were familiar with either. We have yet to understand the exact position of our relocation, much less the method of its execution. Perhaps even more important news than the site of our prison was the captain’s pronouncement that Sebastian (now that we had used his name) was found dead in the mists with us. Mads demanded to see the body, and his insistence appeared to surprise our captors. I agreed with Mads – we could not be sure that the body that was found was not the squire, or perhaps even a young werewolf.
Abelescu agreed to release us under the eye of Dalca, whose first name was Milosh, we learned at that point. He was the one who had pulled us from the mists, and in their eyes we owed him a debt. As he led us out of the cell he explained more about where we were – a rough fortification called Fort Hope maintained by the Rödvaardens, in the northern land of Barovia. As we left the building we had been held in and entered the courtyard of the fort, the pale, cold sunlight surprised us, and the forest of pines and firs that covered the area were a stark contrast from the oaks and elms of the Ulvenwald. Milosh explained that the Rödvaardens police the land and deal with inhuman threats to its people. There was also a good deal of talk about a man named Strahd having a great deal of influence over the land and even the mists, but it is uncertain whether us being here has anything to do with him.
And then, Sebastian appeared! It turned out that the captain’s report of our naive wizard’s death was merely a test to judge our reaction, for if we had callously dismissed his demise then we certainly would have to have been evil. I can’t say that I agree with the captain’s logic, but it was good to see Sebastian again. I think that we had all dreaded having to identify his body. Except for Ulrich, perhaps.
Milosh and Abelescu explained that it would be beneficial to us to prove ourselves by accompanying Milosh on a ranging into the woods, and that there had been reports of restless dead being sighted near the road to the west of the fort. At least the undead were something that we were familiar with, so we agreed to the task given us.
Before departing, I noticed a woman at the other end of the courtyard, observing us and taking notes in a small book. Unlike the other inhabitants of the fortification that we had seen, she appeared to have a scholarly demeanor to her – a welcome change from our typical company in Avabruck. I introduced myself, “Urban Richter. For your notes,” and she introduced herself as Lucinda, the Keeper for this fortress. We talked for a while, but unfortunately neither she nor I were familiar with the regions or people that the other one mentioned. We agreed to talk later, after the ranging that we had agreed to, perhaps over wine, if any can be procured here. And without Mads, preferably.
Finally, we departed for the woods, chatting more with Milosh about this Barovia that we found ourselves in. He told us, gravely, about the greatest threat that the Rödvaardens faced – a group of bestial abhumans called the Ravagers, who came through the mists recently and have committed a great deal of violence to the outlying towns. To punctuate his description, he led us to a woodcutters’ camp that had been attacked by the Ravagers. It was horrific what they had done to the men here, tearing them apart to paint the buildings with their blood. Those buildings that they did not raze, that is. Some of the bones showed signs of butchering as well, as if the woodcutters had been carefully stripped of flesh to serve as a meal…
Oh, and there were zombies that we had to destroy. If only everything were that simple…