Expedition To Castle Ravenloft - Forgotten Realms

Off to Eva again

Eleint 20:

To Eva, pointed towards forest

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Mission: Swamp Thing

19 Eleint:

Dire Bat attack overnight

Mission to Drowned Lady

Valarion RIP, found Holy Symbol

Back to Barovia

Met up with Aleiada, not Ash – kipping for date with Ashlyn

Wraith attack at Inn, Aleiada firing things

Off to Church, Ghoul Grave

Ghostly procession – to castle, back to bed late

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Wolves, wolves and a dwarven ranger taxidermist

Excerpts from the journal of Gevyen Tallmer of Tethyr in the Year of Wild Magic, 1372

18 Eleint: Once again, troubling word of the forces that assail us. Glor, Saldek, Seymour and Ash; rooming at a house on the town’s square overnight were confronted by a howling pack of wolves. What forces command such forest creatures to invade a town? After felling a few of the beasts Saldek made the grim discovery that these were indeed worgs – a magical form of wolf that I am not familiar with. Surely they must have some unseen hand in forcing their way into Barovia? I am pleased to relate that a little of Lathander’s light broke through the fog today, during our ceremony to farewell Kolyan, Thendrick & Mathilda. Dauntingly the sunshine illuminated the spires of Castle Ravenloft for a brief moment, seemingly thousands of feet above; this does seem to be our future path. Life seemed to returning to Barovia, with Bildrath the merchant finally feeling confident to open his small mercantile shop. Prices I’ve heard are excessive, but this seems to be the way of commerce. That prat de Crecy sullied our good name in this village by badmouthing Bildrath’s commercial practices – surely we have want of friends in this locale, not enemies. With the immediate threat of walking dead banished from the streets, my companions set forth to hunt for the Sunsword. I didn’t fully divulge to Ashlyn that we seek the same relic that she does; mercifully today she was too burdened with the care that we must divest to the church. Saldek, Valarion, Ash & Seymour travelled towards the Tser Falls, a short distance north of the Vistani camp today. Glor, our peculiar young dwarf, seemed overcome with alcohol this morning – we assumed it’s some form of reaction to the weak beer. The companions passed the campsite without undue disturbances, and the terrain steepened into a gorge. Near the roaring falls they were beset by more wolves; but the most alarming event here was the crushing of Valarion’s leg by a bear trap. Lathander be praised that Seymour was able to minister aid swiftly; an action that I am sure has saved the elf’s gait. The path wound behind the falls into a natural cavern. It’s been related that the heroes fought a most strange battle against a grizzled dwarven ranger and his wolf companion in this lightless grotto. Apparently Seymour triggered a trap that should have shot him out into the falls, had he not side stepped in time (DM’s note – sodding natural 20!). It would have been a well deserved dunking by all accounts to remind de Crecy of the values of modesty and humility. The dwarven ranger, who we now know went by the name of Varikov, was swiftly overwhelmed by the party. On exploring the cavern, they encountered quite a grisly scene as Varikov had a penchant for taxidermy – a few of his victims stood cruelly on display, including a werewolf and a local adventurer named Jeref by his gold ring. Valarion seemed troubled by this finding, it is apparent that he may be on missions of his own in the land of Barovia. The companions ventured further than the falls this afternoon, winding up into the higher hills of Barovia. There is another gate to the west of the land, seemingly similar to that haunted portal with its headless guardians. Valarion related that he had decided to bypass the gates through the forest, but was assailed by confounding mists that tore at his very being. Of what he saw within those mists, he was too pale to confer when questioned. Late in the afternoon they returned by the main road they’d discovered, winding back towards Barovia. At the haunted crossroads by the gallows another being confronted the group. He was wild and hairy, with bestial claws and fangs – but by their account, very much a man. He fought with supernatural strength and vigour, requiring their combined strength to drive off. Exactly how they turned this beast, I am not sure; but one did mention of this beast suddenly melting into a dark mist that swiftly roiled northwards towards that accursed castle that blights this valley. I have a worrying recollection of what beast this may be, further research tomorrow may enlighten me as to its name. On returning to Barovia my companions regaled me of the tales of the day, and I queried politely as to their success in obtaining a sword. Ash confided that they had secured a sword, but was not currently in his reach. That bewildering clown Seymour even suggested that he had held it but thrown it up into the air! Ash Torsden I have trusted with my life – but who will rid me of this turbulent obfuscating priest!? I was too weary to question them further today, but if I feel that they are defying the rule of Lathander and our holy rule then action must be taken. But how to do so – I do not have an ally in Ashlyn as surely she desires the sword for her own? Tomorrow the companions have decided to seek the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, perhaps this challenge shall prove easier to solve.

Gevyen Tallmer Scribe to the Dawnhall of the Morninglord, Zazesspur, Tethyr


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Excerpt from the journal of Valarion Ulthedran

1372 18th Day of Eleint

With the dawn came the rituals of the god-botherers to which I am becoming accustomed, shortly after was the burial ceremony for the late Burgomaster. I made sure my presence was felt by the sweet Lady Ireena before taking my absence with friend Saldek, while I returned to our lodgings to ponder what our situation had become Saldek went to the store which now opened itself to us, he later recounted a humorous anecdote about Seymour entering the shop and quibbling over the price of rope!
“How dare you sir! It is profiteering to hold this town to ransom in its hour of need! Fifteen gold for a length of rope! It is extortion and I shall have none of it!”
I must admit it raised a smile.

After a brief discussion we made our way up river to Tser Falls where, if Madam Eva’s predictions hold any truth, we might find the artefact sought by Ash and de Crecy.

On approaching the falls we found ourselves once more confronted by snarling wolves lead by one great wolf that waited in hiding for us. With their usual efficiency my companions dealt death to the beasts and I carefully lead the way toward a path that might lead to our goal only to find myself impeded by a bear trap that came close to severing my delicate leg, only swift action on de Crecy’s part saved the limb and his magics gave me the strength to carry on.

We entered a cave behind the falls to find ourselves face to face with a towering bear eerily lit by the flickering of our everburning torch. To great relief the beast was dead and stood only due to the taxidermist’s art. Carefully we moved deeper into the cave. Saldek took a crossbow bolt from an unseen assailant, a wolf leapt from the darkness but was soon put down. We became aware of a narrow bridge crossing a chasm and on the other side a dishevelled dwarf armed with axes and a crossbow, he began to hack at the ropes with his axes so I acted swiftly and danced nimbly across the bridge to tumble past him on the far side, but too late to save our swift passage!

I stood before the dwarf whose eyes gleamed with insanity, flecks of spittle at his lips, I drew my whip and hatched a plan to tip the foul maddened creature into the abyss. While I battled the dwarf my companions made their way around by a tunnel off to one side. If it were not for the dwarf’s clumsy blows and apparent ignorance in his chosen weapons I may not have survived the battle, as it is I was badly wounded and lost my whip to his blades but with my reinforcements the dwarf stood little chance. Seymour told us of magic items about the dwarf’s grubby personage which Saldek quickly stripped away. A preserved adventurer stood to the back of the cavern wielding a bright magical sword, and of more interest to me, the wedding ring I had originally sought to find and return to the widow Helene Maurgen.

This area is most peculiar and the taint of the unnatural seems to grow thick in the air, perhaps there is something more malign that exudes this, I have no other word for it, evil which seems to pervade everything. Mayhap a remnant of the Lich King’s army? Or is it this mysterious Strahd that Danovich speaks of in his journal, I can only think that it is the duty of those of us with noble blood to cleanse this land so that commoners might live in some peace though their lives be wretched and short.

Our spirits bolstered by our success we chose to carry on our travels while the sun still held the sky against the night. We came upon a gate much like those we had passed when entering the area. Saldek tried his arm but the closed iron gates would not move even to his great strength, I explored the possibilities of passing beyond the pillars that held the gates in place but was confronted by a roiling wall of fog inhabited by the foulest of apparitions, loved ones dead and rotting reaching forth with skeletal fingers. I stumbled back to the party but uttered no word of what I had seen instead choosing to encourage a return to Barovia. Taking an unknown path we found ourselves once more at the accursed gallows crossroad where Seymour had dispatched those foul shadows with the strength his faith. There we were attacked from the mists by a strange figure of a man heavily built and hairy, he seemed unstoppable until Seymour drew the newly found blade and struck at him, in an instant the brightly glowing blade turned the creature to a dark mist which rolled away to join the ever present mists.

Once more ensconced in The Blood on the Vine I fell to talking with Ireena and her loathsome brother Ismark. While we talked the subject of the holy symbol arose and Ireena paled. Taking me to one side she explained that she no longer had it, some evil creature had spirited it away, but it would appear neither she nor her brother could make use of it, most intriguing as it was connected to the burgomasters bloodline, I know now that Ireena was not his child but what of Ismark? Further she whispered in horror of the nightmares she had been suffering in which the vile Strahd had crept into her bedchamber and performed despicable acts revealing two small puncture wounds where she dreamed she had been bitten, such acts cannot be allowed to continue! The sweet Lady Ireena is in no doubt that it is she that Strahd craves though in her dreams he calls her by the name of another. I have volunteered to spend the night in vigil by her bedside to ward away any creatures of the night who may venture near.

Late in the night a flight of giant bats flew about the village causing immense fear amongst the villagers with their screeching calls. I calmed Ireena and remained by her side until it was time to join my companions and once more venture forth to the nearby marshes where I believe the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind might be found.

- Valarion Ulthedran

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The Seer & the Desecrated Church

Excerpts from the journal of Gevyen Tallmer of Tethyr in the Year of Wild Magic, 1372

17 Eleint: Today we have done a little to ease the unholy dread that has besieged this land of Barovia. It is been a day of moderate victory for the rule and love of Lathander – may his light speedily return to dispel the fog and gloom. At a conference this morning, we band of travellers decided it best to seek the counsel of Madam Eva, as she has often been referred to as the wisest in the region. Ashlyn and I did not travel with the adventurers this morning; I had no stomach for these terrors and stayed firmly behind the barricades. Besides, we needed the time to regain our sanity and chart the course of Barovia’s redemption. Saldek, Glor, Seymour, Valarion and Ash ventured forth to seek the fortunes as told by Madam Eva. She resides in an encampment a couple of miles to the west, surrounded by those of her clan. I have discovered that these tribespeople go by the name of the Vistani – I have seen a few of their number here in the Blood Of The Vine. They wear the same garb as that mysterious messenger we encountered in the Weary Horse a few days ago, though I have not recognised his face here. Gaining the encampment was not a simple task; once again our sturdy companions were beset by undead foes. Again, Seymour proved his mettle, with his shining Lathandan holy symbol blasting shadowy beasts (I think Murks, by their description) into oblivion. Once again our party had fortuitously saved another valiant warrior. At the crossroads they encountered one Sir Urik, of the Order of the Raven. He explained that he was the last of his order, a noble association of virtuous champions, united under the symbol of the raven. They had set aside political and religious allegiances in forming a pact to fight evil, and had prospered for centuries. I am amazed at the unearthing of all these sects that to me have only existed in hidden scrolls and tomes. It is apparent that the raven is the epitomising symbol of holiness and truth in this realm. Sir Urik graciously thanked our party for their divine assistance and suggested to both Ash & Seymour that the path of the raven is one that should be strongly considered. I know that this is not an affront to Lathander’s church as it has been scribed that many Lathandans have swelled their ranks in the past. Apparently, initiation into the order is by supplication at the chapel of Castle Ravenloft – surely this is where that mad lord Strahd holds sway? Sir Urik departed from the group to return to Barovia, as they continued to the Vistani camp. The Vistani eyed our party suspiciously, but that in itself is not surprising in these troubled times. Madam Eva held audience with Seymour, Ash and Valarion – despite his recognised skill on the battlefield, our Ecaterine saints be praised that de Crecy held his tongue. Eva proved to be an extremely large lady by all accounts and quite a cryptic mystic. She read our fortunes in the fashion of these parts by the dealing of cards with odd symbols & sigils. When posed a question about Strahd, she explained that the cards read that “he will be found when the three servants of Hell are slain, in the place of the gathering.” Looking at the befuddled expressions of the three she clarified that “a spawn of Hell has come to the top of one of the castle towers, and she is served by an unholy trio.” It is obvious now that this Strahd is not the noble Lord he professes to be, to be in league with such minions. But why shall we encounter him in only one place? Eva did seem to think that the omens were in our favour for such a meeting that despite the influences of demonic forces there is still the power of a good influence at that location – allowing our blows to strike true and hard. The question of the Sunsword posed yet more dealing of cards. “Seek the Sunsword where the river flies,” she said, adding, “this is a card of water and air, the weapon should be near the falls.” On the question of the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, “seek it where the river flows into the land,” once again clarifying, “this card speaks of elemental forces mingling together. The symbol should be in the marsh downriver from here.” Finally, when a query regarding the zombies was made, “Put an end to the blasphemy of the death that refused to die, and the plague will cease – to end the plague of death, you must end its source.” I have never before relied on the word and say of a mere seer, as Lathander lights my path daily. If this woman speaks truly though – how much closer am I to my true goal!
The party returned to Barovia at midday, and a council of war was formed. By all accounts it was apparent that the church itself must be confronted – to seek a cure to this monstrous plague. It is of a difficult afternoon that I write; of dire tragedy and of simple blessing too. Once again, I did not accompany the venturing band as I have little effect against supernatural foes and not the gall or strength to wield a weapon – this quill is now giving my hand the most severe cramp as I scribe these words. This time Ashlyn did accompany my friends, as she was keen to find her companions. Yet again they were assailed in the streets, this time by foul flesh eating ghasts banding with the unfortunate villager zombies. The church proved to be in dire need of repair, a gray sagging edifice of stone and wood standing atop a slight rise, on the very roots of the great pillarstone of the omnipresent castle that is dimly apparent through the interminable fog. Seymour and Glor reported some signs of disturbances to graves, and some hoarse chanting was heard from within. Eventually our heroes broached the church’s door to be confronted by the renegade priest, Danovich. He countered vainly by launching a spell from a grubby torn scroll – which exploded in his hand in a outburst of countless screaming illusionary skulls, it is extreme with luck I feel that this spell’s true horror was not effected. Danovich’s fight was aided by yet more undead, and when our heroes’ actions turned against him he leapt into the basement through a rotting hole in the floor. It is with horror that I relate the discovery within. Danovich had invigorated a most foul creation from the remains of his poor departed son Doru – by what means I know not how. The depths of the depravity that this poor man had sunk to in seeking to continue his son’s life! The beast, a blaspheme by name and nature, took the combined strength of our entire party to destroy – it even shook the unassailable strength of Saldek to his very core. On Doru’s felling, the most miraculous transformation occurred, with all the town’s zombies becoming bereft of animation. It was to crush Ashlyn’s spirit today that she discovered the corpses of her companions Mathilda and Thendrick – at least now they can be laid to rest with due ceremony and reverence. It was with little joy that we reassembled in the Blood of the Vine this evening, more a spirit of weary acceptance in our troubled minor victory. News was sent to Ireena of the quelling of the plague, and the townspeople brought Kolyan’s body to lie in state in a chamber of the inn. It will be on the ’morrow that we enclose his body with clay. On a side note, I was aware of the attentions of the elf Valarion towards Ireena – it seems he has been offering her his support as she struggles with her woes. So then, a day of trouble, of strife and of cleansing – small steps towards the goal of Lathander’s glory. How much more will we need to endure? Sir Urik, Ashlyn and I have decided to room at our desecrated church to commence the long and arduous path towards its rehabilitation and consecration.

Gevyen Tallmer Scribe to the Dawnhall of the Morninglord, Zazesspur, Tethyr


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Excerpt from the journal of Valarion Ulthedran

1372 17th Day of Eleint

After another dawn watching the Lathandarians gesticulate at the sun, prostrating themselves on cobbles in a manner most undignified in my humblest of opinions. We headed west toward a Vistani encampment where we might find Madam Eva, apparently a wise woman of great renown. We came upon a crossroads and gallows neighboured by a graveyard where another armoured figure struggled against unearthly beings of shadowy form. In an act of impressive talent de Crecy raised aloft his holy symbol and the creatures seemed to be shred by the morning sunlight. The saved man was Sir Urik of the Raven Order, last of his order. He offered to take Seymour as an applicant to a chapel in a local castle named Ravenloft but we have no time. I suggested he might be able to add his arm to aiding the people of Barovia by going there to fend off zombies.

The Vistani were wary as they always are and Seymour, Ash and I entered Madam Eva’s tent to seek her help. In all honesty it was the same mystical mumblings I have endured most of my life, however she gave us some leads on where certain items may be found, that way profit lies.

The more time I spend in the presence of the God-botherers the more I wonder at their goals. Glor at least finds humans as disconcertingly odd as I do and Saldek, though unclean and somewhat sullen, is an honourable comrade to have at my side. I can no more allow this infection of undead to spread then I could allow my own arm to turn gangrenous, I may have fallen from favour with my house but I still hold my small nobility as a symbol of honour and responsibility.

We left the Vistani encampment soon after talking with Madam Eva, though the road was uneventful our journey was closely shadowed by a pack of wolves who maintained a safe distance for the entire journey but close enough to observe us and our actions.

On our return to Barovia we found Ashlyn and Sir Urik waiting in the Blood on the Vine, we explained to Ashlyn that our group would now venture to the church in search of her comrades and, if she so wished, she might join us. While in the Blood on the Vine I ordered a bottle of their cheapest wine, little more then vinegar, and sent it to Ismark. A simple barb perhaps but I find it hard to see a noble who would leave five strangers to save his town while he seeks inebriation before the suffering townspeople.

The church was at once imposing and decrepit, the oppressive feeling that hangs over the town seemed stronger there. de Crecy and Glor investigated the surrounding graveyard while I scaled the churches outer wall having noticed some damage to the rooftop. With grace and aplomb I moved across the tiled roof to look down on the church through a hole, below was a scene of disarray. Pews were scattered about the central chamber and a great hole had been opened in the floor, I could hear a single voice chanting echoing about the deserted church. Having seen all that I might from that height I launched myself into the air trusting in my own agility, and a magical ring, to bring me safely to the ground. Some may think such displays to be vulgar and showy but I use them as a test of my abilities and to maintain my talents at their highest.

Seymour and Glor had found little save a grave that appeared to have been opened from within. Saldek and Ash led the group into the church while I brought up the rear with Glor, Seymour and Ashlyn between. A single aged man stood at the altar turning on our entrance, he began to chant a spell. Doors to either side of us burst open and shambling corpses shuffled towards us, needless to say Saldek and Ash sprung into action to lay the accursed undead to final rest but not before I was struck by one of the festering monsters, the wound festering rapidly and turning my stomach weakening my own blows. With the undead felled we turned our attentions to the priest, Danovich. Saldek closed rapidly and soon Danovich leapt down the hole in the floor. Seeing no other way down I pulled my rope from my backpack and tied it around the altar to give my armoured companions an easy way down. Saldek leapt relying on a ring that is a twin of my own while Seymour shimmied down the rope, pausing half way down to call upon his god to repel the undead waiting below. With style I launched myself down the hole with sword in hand ready to add to the affray. What I found below was undead fleeing Seymour’s piety with a strange monstrosity stitched together from parts lurching towards the place where we stood, Danovich was in one corner behind a peculiar table chanting his spells once more. Knowing my blade to be more use against the living I ran at Danovich hearing the heated sound of battle as Saldek and Seymour confronted the blasphemous homunculus with Ash soon adding his blade to the fight. Overhead Glor cast his spells from a makeshift platform of two pews spanning the hole and Ashlyn added her crossbow. I struck twice before Danovich was able to wind a spell about me that made my muscles rigid. I saw no more of the battle until a searing light stretched from behind me and struck Danovich, Seymour so Saldek tells me.

Among the undead were Ashlyn’s two companions, no doubt Danovich found such a foul deed ironic. I left my comrades to explore the basement while I returned to the altar above. In an alcove set in the altar I found a few items of interest including Danovich’s journal, a document titled “Liber Blaspheme” that would appear to be something to do with raising that creature encountered below, and some trinkets of more earthly value that I shall dispose of and split the profit with Saldek, despite what my House may think I remain an Elf of my word.

Perhaps I have spent too long amongst Humans but it would seem the goals of this bizarre group are for the good and freedom of the peoples of this land, to that end I would gladly add my sword and wit for there are too many who would endeavour to take free will from these fine people whose only fault is having been born commoners. Every conflict brings our group closer in action if not word, we act in a strange symbiosis where little needs saying even if we see things differently in our times of rest.

Our return to the Blood on the Vine and news of our success was wide spread, while my companions enjoyed their victory with the company of the townspeople I sought out other duties. Travelling to the burgomaster’s house I sought out Ireena at her late father’s side, his corpse bloating and foul even as his beatific daughter knelt at his side amongst religious sigils and signs. Ismark had already sent news to Ireena of our success at liberating the town of the zombie threat but I had other news born in the journal of the corrupted priest Danovich. With trepidation and as delicately as possible I brought to her attention the passage that explains that she is not the Burgomaster’s daughter but swore an oath to keep my silence until we might find out more about her lineage, there is nought to be gained by allowing this information to reach the ears of common rabble or her decadent brother. We agreed that it was time for her father to be given a proper holding in state by his people that they might pay their respects and so went to fetch locals to bear his body aloft through the streets that he might rest in the tavern or town square.

The people were quick to offer their aide and it was agreed that Seymour would hold the service as the most senior priest in the locality before the late Burgomaster was laid to his final rest in the newly cleansed churchyard.

Five of us retired to our makeshift lodgings leaving the dwarf to drink his fill at the taverns expense. Late in the night we were disturbed by howling from the streets, large wolves prowling the narrow ways of Barovia! I assisted Saldek in donning his armour after swiftly wriggling into my light mithril shirt. Ash and Seymour were to their arms as well trained as one might expect. Saldek and Ash moved to one door, Seymour to another while I grabbed my bow and headed to the first floor in the hope of gaining some strategic advantage. The conflict was short and bloody leaving many of the wolves fleeing from fierce blades and divine magics alike, my bow adding little more then a light nuisance. Saldek examined the corpses and proclaimed the fallen beasts to be Wargs, far worse then simple wolves.

- Valarion Ulthedran

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Barovia - village of the walking dead

Excerpts from the journal of Gevyen Tallmer of Tethyr in the Year of Wild Magic, 1372

16 Eleint: I write this journal now with a trembling hand, as events have darkened with most alarming alacrity. Our night’s rest in the forest was disturbed by the incessant howling of wolves, both distant and at times disturbingly close. I was reliably informed by gruff Saldek of swooping flights of bats careering through the camp in the early hours – a time when I was blissfully in slumber. The day had dawned like the last few, with no respite from the veil of mistiness cloaking the land. Another silent, plodding journey of the last few miles saw us reach the realm of Barovia at a little past midday – though time-keeping cannot be assured without the sun’s shining path across the heavens. Barovia proved to be bounded by a perturbing set of gates. Gray in the fog, high stone pillars loomed up from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road. Huge iron gates hung from the stonework, dew clung to their rusting bars. Standing before the pillars were two stone statues of armed guardians with wicked polearms. Their carved heads lay among the weeds at their feet, apparently neatly broken from the stone shoulders. Our guides turned to me for advice, as there was no apparent way of gaining entry to this mysterious realm. When Valarion the elf quested forth towards this barrier, the gates slowly opened with a spine-tingling screech of metal. There seemed to be no mechanical reason for this opening and not a soul stirred nearby. With wonder and concern, we ventured forth as a group between the strange portals. I do not recall if it was Saldek or Valarion who suggested a means to secure the gates in an open position to facilitate a possible future exit. However, I watched open-mouthed in apprehension as our guides manoeuvred the stone heads to wedge the iron gate firmly. Surely, they must have realised that such a disrespectful act would not bode us well into this realm? No sooner had we successfully entered Barovia as a whole; and the gates violently swung shut – propelling the stone heads with force in our direction. One stuck the wheel of our vehicle, as I peered over the wagon’s side the head appeared to grin evilly back at me. I can relate now, that I did not expect Barovia to throw open her arms in welcome; but my mind’s eye had always pictured a prosperous mountain community of honest, toiling hardy folk. As we neared the village of Barovia things were certainly amiss. Tall shapes had loomed from the dense fog, and the muddy ground had given way to slick, wet cobblestones. A dilapidated wooden sign reading “Welcome to the Village of Barovia”, lay across the stones, seemingly torn from its mountings. As we grew closer, the shapes resolved into tenements whose windows were boarded, broken and lightless. Nothing moved, though this accursed fog markedly reduced visibility to mere dozens of yards. It is now with horror and dismay that I relate our passage to the town’s square. Praise be to Lord Lathander for bearing me through these troubled times and this living nightmare. I am indebted to the skill of my companions, both old and new in at least attaining the square. We were beset by hordes of merciless undead – I am ashamed to report that despite my aged years, I have never encountered such beasts before. Lathander has willed me to serve him best in the dusty halls of libraries amongst weighty tomes, and had until now not required me to face our church’s most reviled foes. During these assaults I cowered in the relative protection of our wagon, with the admirable restraint and cool-handed control of grooms Pardrey and Seth in driving furtively behind the safe path created by our companions. I was too terrified to personally witness the ghastly details of battle; but have had firsthand accounts of the individual valorous actions of the party members and of the foul creatures we encountered. It seems that we have chosen our ‘guides’ well. Valarion, whilst slightly built as elves tend to be, proved to be both a valiant and effective fighter. Despite being armed with only a worryingly light blade, he was nerveless in skewering our foes by dancing amongst their midst. Heavy set Saldek was a veritable whirlwind of blade and vengeance; and he seemed to have considerable combat skill amongst undead. Glor’s magicks provided a welcome assistance to our allies – it now seems surprising that such recent friends could act so effectively together, maybe Lathander does hold sway here still? My humble thanks go to the members of our order; the noblest Ash was a stalwart in defence and honour. I must reveal an increasing respect for Seymour – the power of turning that Lathander has afforded him seemed to sway the tide of the battles they encountered. As of our foes, what can I reveal? It seems the mainstay of the assault on the town is from within their own ranks – hordes of zombies have risen from the dead villager’s graves. I have read of these horrors, of course, but no tome could instil in me the fear of the sight of their soulless eyes and relentless plodding gait. At various points the zombies were aided by more mysterious creatures, such as a spell-wielding corpse that I recall may have been a deathlock. More terrifying, I have had it reported that hideous human heads with bat-like ears assailed us – those surely can only be vargouilles! Carrion feeders seem to trail these streets too – a strange gore-streaked malicious beast looking like a cross between an overlarge rat and a wolf; and human-sized maggots dripping with ichor. Despite my abject terror today I must recall and record these observations for future research. The only untouched corpse we discovered on our passage through the town today was that of a local carpenter, by his papers he went by the name of Viktor Litmunova. I implored our companions to secure his body; I would even suffer it on our wagon beside me – but they paid me no heed, driving forth to the next melee. As I write now, I am beset by guilty pangs of conscience that we should have at least afforded the decency of proper burial of one of the village’s noted craftsmen. I fear that his corpse is unattainable now – it surely must have fallen to ravenous beasts. As we reached the town square, the full horror of Barovia’s predicament was patently obvious. Barricades lined the square, and a sole combatant was holding the hordes of death at bay – an armoured female figure struggled against overwhelming odds. The most brutal fight of our short-lived Barovian time occurred, with yet another bewildering enemy. Aided by the ever present zombies, a similarly appearing creature proved to have the most worrying power yet – that of entombing humans with a swift throw of its gravedirt encrusted arms. This occurred twice, both my own nobler Ash and the armoured lady were thus driven bodily into the earth beneath the square. Saldek’s mightily powerful sword arm eventually accounted for this supernatural terror; and all thanks be to Lathander, we recovered Ash and the badly injured lady. At this point we sought, and were granted the relative refuge of the village’s central tavern – “The Blood of the Vine”. There was little joy to be had in this apparently once fine inn, a victim of poor upkeep and bursting with many village families sheltering from the zombie infestation. However, we were allowed a space in the stale, sweaty beer-tainted common room. The poor lady we rescued was in a pitiful state of nerves, wounds and despair. We stabilised her with healing and she recovered enough to venture that she was “Ashlyn, a paladin of the Lightbringers of Lathander.” I am not completely knowledgeable of this sect of our church, but of course, Lathander has many servants across Faerûn in various guises and sects. She was most grateful for our timely assistance; and expressed her mutual surprise in encountering fellow Lathandans. She went on report that Lightbringers have a doctrine of slaying undead wherever they could be found; and that she and her companions had heard that Barovia was thick with the horrors. Her companions had included Thendrick, faithful servant of Lathander and Mathilda, a fighter of great renown. She also revealed that it was her quest to find the legendary Sunsword. My heart skipped a beat with this sudden revelation – surely we are not in competition with our own brothers and sisters? My tongue also stilled in my mouth – despite my devotion to dear Lathander I cannot bear to have my life’s work claimed by another. A human failing this must be, and I shall seek penance if necessary. These relics are Zazesspur’s right alone! Ashlyn continued that apparently the townspeople had said that someone named Madam Eva would know of the sword’s whereabouts if anyone did. When pressed on her companions, Ashlyn confessed that, “Thendrick and Mathilda wanted to check out the church to the northwest. The townsfolk believe that’s where the zombies arise. Everyone told them to talk to Madam Eva first – she’s some sort of wise woman who lives west of town, the same one who apparently knows about the Sunsword. But they wouldn’t listen, the arrogant clods. They went to the church, confident they could handle whatever they found without needing advice. That was three days ago. I haven’t heard from them since, and haven’t been able to venture beyond this square.”
I must relate that I could go no further today, my wits and spirits seem to have been drained by this terribly afflicted village. I, a simple scribe of the musty library, forced to endure the living dead – it is simply too much. This evening’s events have been quieter, yet no less disturbing. Ash and Glor nobly went to the assistance of the townspeople in reinforcing their makeshift barricades; whilst the rest of our beleaguered party remained in the Blood of the Vine. I continued my conversations with Ashlyn, but could not fail to witness the actions of Saldek & Valarion. They had sought the ruler of this village and were directed to a man of noble bearing, yet with filthy stained garb matching his defeated air. He was Ismark, the son of the Burgomaster Kolyan – just the man we sought. Ismark revealed that his father had died ten days previously and was lying in state at his family’s mansion. Disturbingly Kolyan’s body was guarded only by his daughter Ireena, who’d barricaded herself within. When pressed on the zombie plague Ismark said, “The plague began in the church. Danovich the priest used to ward the church and the village, but his vigil lapsed when his son Doru was slain by brigands on Old Svalich Road. No one knows what became of Danovich, but soon afterwards the zombies began to walk.” Ismark also discussed the arrival of the Lightbringers, remarking that they had been directed towards Madam Eva but instead had sought the church first. He carried on, “the zombies didn’t get my father, and the infection began after Kolyan was already dead. No – it was the master of the castle, or his servants, that killed Kolyan Indirovich!” It seems we have stumbled into a realm beset with terror and intrigue; this was the first that we have heard of the ruler of this land. Apparently a few months ago the ruler of the castle paid Barovia a visit, a lord by the name of Strahd, for what reason Ismark could not explain. He paled as he described the encounter where Kolyan bravely stood up to Strahd using the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind. Again my ears pricked up – mention of the second relic I sought, within hours of venturing into this troubled town! Ismark described the Holy Symbol as a powerful amulet that hurt Strahd. He sobbed as he related that one morning after Strahd’s attack they woke to find their father dead from poison; and that after this attack the power of the amulet wouldn’t work for himself or Ireena. I’m ashamed to report that Saldek and Valarion then mocked this beleaguered individual – taunting him for his apparent inaction, and failure of leadership. Did they not realise the weight of responsibility this poor man is burdened with? The loss of his father, the blighting of his town and the withering of Lathander’s love in these parts has crushed the failing spirit of this noble lad.
Ashlyn and I remained holed up in the inn this evening as my colleagues attempted to seek the counsel of Ismark’s sister Ireena in the Burgomaster’s mansion in the south of the town. Ireena would not let them enter the mansion as she feared infection. They did not encounter any further zombies, but did attend the house of a troubled woman; her wails had been piercing the night air. This lady, Mary Bogoescu, was apparently inconsolably weeping for the loss of her daughter Gertruda. There was no suggestion that she had been overrun by the zombie plague, through her bitter grieving tears Mary blurted that she thought that the master of the castle held her daughter Gertruda now.
I do not know if I can bear any more sad tidings. We now retire for the night; Ismark has kindly provided our group with a deserted warehouse that he assures us will hold against the zombies. If only Valarion and Saldek could recognise this man’s true character. Ashlyn and I will begin to restore Lathander’s light to this murky den of iniquity tomorrow.

Gevyen Tallmer Scribe to the Dawnhall of the Morninglord, Zazesspur, Tethyr

100539

Excerpt from the journal of Valarion Ulthedran

1372 16th Day of Eleint

For a day and a night we travelled along barely trodden roads that lead us north, our nights only disturbed by the howling of wolves and flights of bats. We came upon a rusted gates with two guardian statues recently beheaded. Unsettled by the strange gates we tried to prop them open with the statue’s heads. As we passed through the gates closed sending the heads rolling towards us. This is an ill auspice.

We arrived in the town of Barovia, a mist settling about us and making it difficult to see what lay ahead, surely the town would be safe enough? Ha! Barely had our boots touched cobbles when we came upon shambling undead corpses! Ash and Saldek moved forward, Ash declaring that another creature waited down an alley, I rushed to bring it low while Ash struggled against some enchantment. From Saldek’s description I can tell you while I fought in the alley the party acted with a peculiar air unlike the personalities we had suffered on our journey both the dwarf and Seymour moved into action, the dwarven mage casting a spell that seemed to halt the approach of the creatures in their tracks while Seymour held forth his god’s symbol and muttered some prayer that caused them to explode while Saldek disposed of two peculiar monstrosities that had stalked from the shadows.

For those unfamiliar with me I HATE UNDEAD! They do not die when you use artistry as your tool of slaying, their festering stench and disease are all pervading and even my alabaster skin crawls at the thought of them. There is no doubt I have a duty to cleanse this place if I can, not to say a profit cannot be found.

We continued toward the town centre in hope of finding the Burgomaster’s home that we may find what curse has befallen the town, HA! God botherers are as big a jinx as one might hope to find! More of the walking corpses lunged at us from doorways, from above peculiar winged heads swooped down, giant writhing maggots slithered into the street. From a door I was assailed, its foetid claws and teeth digging into my flesh filling me with an illness that turned my stomach and bowels, behind me the dwarf Glor was similarly under assault. The flying creatures attacked our paralysed forms breaking the hold. Bolts of energy filled the air as Glor eradicated the flying fiends. I attacked the zombie in the doorway but to little avail.

Saldek, Ash and Seymour saw off three more walking corpses and two large maggots while I struggled in the doorway, Saldek impressing the church men with his combat prowess, his blade cutting a swathe through the enemy. Seeing me struggle my companion came to my aid as I stepped back from the fight. It never fails to amaze me the skill and speed that my sullen and brusque comrade achieves in moments of the most brutal combat, I hope never to be placed at the wrong end of his rage.

We moved on to the town centre where we came upon a scene of valiant combat as an attractive young woman fought with a number of shambling undead. Seymour held aloft his holy symbol and sent most of them running, Glor adding his own magics to try and rid the cobbles of the undead while Ash, Saldek and I moved in for close combat. With a gracefully acrobatic leap I cleared one of the barricades while the paladin and my companion engaged numerous zombies soon turning their corpses to dust. We saw one creature lift the young woman from her feet and with some strange ability he slammed her into the ground which devoured her. Soon Ash too became a victim of the creature. De Crecy and I engaged the remaining zombies until Saldek once more whirled through them like a rabid wolf leaving only the powerful thing that had interred Ash. I drew my whip and attempted to take it from its feet but its strength was too great for me and once more the battle was won by Saldek.

The young woman was Ashlyn, a paladin of the Light-Bringers of Lathander, another god-botherer. She and her companions had attempted to aide Barovia all indications showing the local church to be the source, but her headstrong companions had ignored advice to seek out the wisdom of a nearby Vistani wise woman and had gone on to the church to seek the source of the plague.

While Ash and Glor went to aid the townspeople with rebuilding the barricades that had held the undead at bay Saldek and I went into the local tavern, Blood on The Vine, partially to quench our battle thirst but also to gather information and seek profit.. The Inn was filled with refugees from the undead infestation, families huddled together in the shadows while the air was filled with the stench of sweat and stale beer. The landlord Arik pointed us in the direction of Ismark, son of the Burgomaster who sat in a corner hiding from his sorrows in the bottom of a wine goblet. Such men should not be allowed to become nobles even among humans, while his people suffer he seeks the solace of wine and sophistry. From the cowardly drunkard we learned that his father was recently dead and that the letter did not originate from him but may have come from the master of a nearby castle. His sister Ireena remains barricaded in the Burgomaster’s house with her father’s corpse where she holds a vigil for him in fear that he may too rise to join the ranks of the undead, she may possess a holy amulet that may help us to cleanse the area. Saldek and I decided to head for the Burgomaster’s house and collected our colleagues along the way, they may not be my choice for comrades but they have proven themselves valiant in combat and otherwise good of heart.

As we travelled the street to the house we heard a wailing from within a barricaded house and de Crecy and Ash insisted on further investigation much to my consternation and no small irritation. Inside we found a middle aged woman weeping and wailing in a room of pink and gaudy decoration obviously from some twisted adult’s idea of a child’s dream bedroom. Ash stood and bellowed at her as if barking orders at a subordinate soldier so I stepped in and coaxed her to talk. Her daughter was missing, apparently she had kept her daughter coddled in that peculiar room her whole life to “Keep her safe from the dangers of the outside world”. She could tell us little else and we made mumbled remarks that if we could find her we would bring her home. As Ash remarked on the way out I think it likely the child simply fled to escape an overbearing mother.

Our journey to the Burgomaster’s house yielded little of any worth save that Ireena is understandably worried over the plague of undead.

We spent the night in a storehouse generously offered by Ismark.

- Valarion Ulthedran

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Nearing Barovia

Excerpt from the journal of Gevyen Tallmer of Tethyr in the Year of Wild Magic, 1372

14 Eleint: We are now within reach of Barovia, and have broken our journey at a wayside inn, “The Weary Horse”. It appears to be a comfortable enough hostelry, with a warm fire, though the patrons are sullen and stare boldly. Ash, forever loyal, saw to the horses, accompanied by young Seth & Pardrey. Once ensconced in this tavern for the evening, we were approached by an energetic and jolly young dwarf. Glor, a journeying mage, is many leagues from his homelands of the Icewind Dale; his eyes seemed afire with the prospect of adventure. We do not seek adventure, of course, and I informed him we were simply on an errand for our glorious Lord. What odd characters we meet on our travels! Later, in the tavern’s common room, Seymour and I witnessed a worrying scene. A rough halfling messenger, his once vibrant clothes bedraggled through travel, marched to the bar and threw a letter in front of ourselves. “The village of Barovia is in need of heroes,” he said in a thick accent that I could not place. “You’ll do as well as any.” Surprisingly, he turned on his heel and marched for the door. Why he collared two agents of the church of Lathander – the Morninglord himself could only know. Our interest piqued, Seymour and I opened the letter, to be utterly bewildered by its contents. For posterity, I shall record its contents here, though they do not make sense to me:-

Barovia. The worms creep beneath our floors and our streets, they feast on the flesh of our dead.
High in the castle, the once lord no longer, the new lord is not yet, without form, void. All is void and vanity.
Ireena, Ireena, Ireena! Long have I kept you at my side, long will I keep you close to my heart! Save my Ireena!
I am the Burgomaster. The Master! Kolyan am I! Soon the worms will feast on me.
Come! Do not tarry!

All my divinations and research had suggested that Barovia was a peaceful, fertile land. I was certainly not expecting danger to thrust her prickly nose into our affairs! The names Ireena and Kolyan do not resonate with me; though I was reminded by my research that a Burgomaster is likely to be a town’s mayor. Perhaps this Kolyan is the person we should seek. We were too stunned to pursue the bearer of these tidings, and stayed within the common room. I supped a little mulled mead, whereas that buffoon Seymour made great show of expressing his desires for all forms of luxurious food and drink – Lathander’s choice in elevating him through the priesthood will remain a mystery. Our gentle repast was politely interrupted by a travelling elf, who’d witnessed our little scene. Introducing himself as Valarion Ulthedran, he explained he was familiar with the region of Barovia, and kindly offered his services as a guide. Seymour and I acceded to his request; we are not so foolish as to deny help that crosses our path. It seemed his services would not come cheap though, as he travels with a surly brute of a fellow in Saldek. Of course, Lathander’s coffers are not bottomless but Hirak has supplied us well – I do not wish for hiccups at this late stage. I pray for the gentle rays of the Morninglord to shine on this meeting as we depart on the ’morrow.

15 Eleint: I am not one to place much faith in omens, be they fortuitous or nay. However, the failure of Lathander’s bright rays to pierce the foggy gloom of dawn failed to raise my spirits. An impenetrable fog has descended on these hills, and will not shift; despite our remonstrations to our glorious Lord at dawn. Our party had been swelled by events of last night. Joining we Lathandans, were of course, Valarion and Saldek as our guides through these increasingly damp lands. Glor had motioned to travel with us as far as Barovia as well – he understands he is not in our pay, yet seemed keen to see this hidden realm we seek. I trusted with my heart that these fellow travellers are of noble mind – neither Seymour nor Ash noted any sense of malice or mischief from these additional three. It has been a long day by wagon today, through dimly lit yet peaceful forests. Oddly, for hours we heard nary a sound from the dull, silent trees. We were not able to broach the distance from the Weary Horse to Barovia in a single step, so tonight are forced to sleep amongst these brooding elms. The dying glow of this campfire’s embers seeks to remind me of the lack of Lathander’s morning glory these past few days. I shall be warmed, relieved and heartened by the welcoming embrace of Barovia, her relics and her blessed saints that I have sought for so long.

Gevyen Tallmer Scribe to the Dawnhall of the Morninglord, Zazesspur, Tethyr

Excerpt from the journal of Valarion Ulthedran

1372 14th Day of Eleint

Saldek Strongarm and I were wasting some time in a low dive known as the Weary Horse, considering how exactly to go about our current mission on behalf of Helene Maurgen. Two armour clad human god botherer types entered the tavern accompanied by an old man, the elder of the armoured men made a nuisance of himself with the barkeep while the younger went to attend to their horses. I sat and assessed the newcomers for what value that may have to us there was obviously church money involved but I couldn’t press it too hard or we could lose out on additional work. When the younger of the two returned he was followed in by a rather peculiar dwarf in the robes of a mage, moments later a halfling of the Vistani tribes who wander the lands of north Damara entered and approached the strangers.
“The town of Barovia needs heroes and it looks like you will have to do.” He said and threw a note on the counter before departing. I hastily followed him, my previous dealings with his tribe of some value. I questioned him but he knew or was divulging little only that the money was with the heroes to whom he had handed the note.

I was not overly enamoured with the idea of approaching the armoured types, humans are bad enough without adding in religion but I figured as we were headed that way anyhow we could make a little extra coin. The elder, apparently of higher status, was conversing with the peculiar dwarf as I approached, I respect Saldek’s skill with arms but his charms leave much to be desired, as does his hygiene. I presented myself as a guide and pathfinder for their little entourage and negotiated a small fee for getting them to Barovia and back, it is little more then a couple of days travel, a trifle considering the added safety of additional sword arms to get us where we would have gone anyway. We agreed to set off early the next morning.

1372 15th Day of Eleint

Saldek and I watched in bemusement as Seymour de Crecy and Ash Torsden carried out their prayers to Lathander, I do not understand the way in which they carry out such duties as if they are a burden. It appears that Seymour is a cleric and Ash is his sworn protector, a paladin, the old man is Gevyen, a ranking priest of their temple or some such. I could not bring myself to inquire of the dwarf, he seems bewildered more than anything else.

- Valarion Ulthedran

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Prologue - "We're on a mission from God"

Excerpts from the journal of Gevyen Tallmer of Tethyr in the Year of Wild Magic, 1372

13 Mirtul: Today shines brightly above any other day! My lord, master and deliverance, Lathander; has set me a shining path – one which I cannot divert from. It happened in the dusty halls of the library of Zazesspur this morning. I was reaching to access a scroll from the shelves, when, due to my increasing toll of years, tripped off the rickety ladder. Grasping for balance I tottered, and collapsed in a heap – as did the equally rickety bookcase. Sneezing in the dust, I readjusted my optics to find a ray of sunlight now set free by the bookcase’s movement. Tracing its bright line lead to a hither unknown parchment. Lathander, you marvel me with your presence! With trembling hands I uncovered a document that will make my life’s work complete. The crumbling parchment revealed to me new information regarding my beloved church and her relics. It detailed the existence of a small Lathanderan sect active in a remote region of Damara, largely isolated from the rest of Faerûn. This sect is served by a small priesthood and two slightly larger orders: the Ecaterine Monks, and the Knights of the Raven. The parchment described three holy shrines dedicated to our blessed Saints Markovia, Ecaterina & Bogdan; as well as two powerful artifacts! And I, a humble scribe in search of such holy relics! One is a holy symbol that shines like the sun, the other is said to be the first sun blade! I could not contain my delight – rushing straight to Abbot Hikar Bartaen and bowling him over as he met the Council of Lords of Zazesspur. He sees me as a bumbling old fool, and he may be right. But Lathander’s holy path shall not be darkened! Hikar brushed me aside and banished me to work in the herb garden as a rebuff to remember my piety and peace.

16 Mirtul: Morninglord be praised! He has seen fit to illuminate Hikar’s mind as he has mine. I was summoned to the abbot’s room to explain my discovery in a gentler fashion. Hikar’s eyes filled too with holy light as he gained knowledge of the boon to our church this discovery will bring. Again I was dismissed, but not without a promise of an expedition to seek the holy treasures.

5 Kythorn: A day of mixed blessings. I am to be sent to seek the treasures of my dreams and after years of dusty research! Hikar has assembled an expedition party of horses, wagon and two grooms (Seth and Pardrey) from our lay preaching group. Apparently I am to be assigned Seymour de Crecy as a guard, mentor and companion for the long road ahead. Do I suspect that Hikar wishes to rid his sainted halls of this pompous old windbag? Seymour shall be a trial, but Lathander’s will must hold sway. As of the journey, how are we to complete the many leagues to our goal? Hikar bade us patience, our path shall be found.

20 Flamerule: After long ten-days of planning, our path is set. Hikar has negotiated with clerics of Shaundakul to open a portal nearer our goal. We are to be transported to Sembia, to our sister church in Yhaunn – the Sunspire Cathedral.

25 Flamerule: I do not wish to speak fully of our path today. The portal from Zazesspur to Sembia was duly opened by Shaundakul’s will; allowing us to jump thousands of miles and dozens of countries. I shall not speak of the horror of the portal, lest my life’s journey is forfeited. Mercifully, Lathander’s light welcomed us into the bustling realm of Sembia. Yhaunn is a marvellous city, not unlike my home port of Zazesspur. The Sunspire Cathedral glows with Lathander’s majesty in the bright of the morning. I was honoured today to be appointed Ash Torden, a paladin of our order. He seems a thoroughly able young man – not afflicted with that stiff upper lip self-righteousness that weighs heavily on Seymour. Abbess Simla Tartufo of the Cathedral felt he was a worthy addition to our party, as seemingly we venture into more dangerous lands. Surely, Lathander will protect us from all harm.

28 Flamerule: We have gained passage on the Wavecrest, a trader plying her wares across the Sea of Fallen Stars. Today Ash proved his worth in successfully seeking a noted captain of these waters to sail eastward towards Damara. Captain Michely Albignoni assures me that his consignment of smoked sausage is the finest in Faerûn.

Midsummer’s Day: Morninglord Lathander, today you have blessed me with your glory! Never before have I witnessed your glorious dawn awakening life across the water. It was with humbled reverence that Seymour, Ash and I supplicated ourselves on the deck of the Wavecrest to bathe in your blessed rays. To your honour we dedicate this holy mission.

4 Eleasias: Fair winds have brought us very swiftly to the fine trading city of Lyrabar, the shining capital of Impiltur. As long as my life leads, I shall never seek sausage for my repast again. The stench of that foul foodstuff will haunt me to my grave. Where shall our path lead now?

6 Eleasias: May the Morninglord be praised, we have gained the right to accompany the Blue Hand Mercantile Company as far as Heliogabalus. It seems their Impilturan cotton is much sought by the Damarans of the north.

30 Eleasias: Heliogabalus, we rest in your sheltered walls in the arms of Ilmater. Praise be to Lathander for delivering us safely to this city. I shall not forget the kindness of the merchants who acceded to our request to join their caravan from Lyrabar.

4 Eleint: The journey tires me now, yet so close to my goal! Heliogabalus, the capital of Damara, has been a restful haven for the past few days, and we have been duly replenished in body and soul by the actions and deeds of our sister church of Ilmater. The Crying God is well venerated here, a forbidding land of cold steppes and poor pastures. My bones ache with the cold though; the fading of the year is fast upon us in these northern climes. May Lathander speed our path northward, to the foothills of the Galena Mountains.

12 Eleint: Today we leave the frontier town of Ironspur, and embark on our last leg of our long pilgrimage. We should reach the little known realm of Barovia within the next few days, Lathander willing. My blessed Morninglord, I can feel your guiding light illuminating our sacred path. Keep my bones from wearying as the year fades….

Gevyen Tallmer Scribe to the Dawnhall of the Morninglord, Zazesspur, Tethyr

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