The party’s own record of our first day in Barovia proper — the gate, the village, the people who’d rather we’d never come, and the thing in the crypt under the church. Use it to fill the gaps in whatever you scribbled down yourself.
On the road, and hungry
We woke on the cobbled road in the grey woods, and learned our first hard lesson about this place: you have to eat and drink here, or you’ll suffer for it. Two of us (Sirius and Fëanor) were already hours hungrier than the rest after that long wander in the mist. None of us had rations to speak of — the house had nothing but rot.
We tried to live off the land. We could not. Even a sharp eye turned up nothing we recognised — the plants, the mushrooms, none of it is anything we’ve eaten before. The land here is alien. Note for later: don’t assume we know what’s safe to forage. We don’t.
Useful things we worked out about ourselves:
- Drew can conjure water at will (ten gallons a day) — so thirst, at least, is solved. She can also magic up a bedroll, a candle, a tinderbox, simple tools — though they vanish after we rest.
- Our water skins hold four pints; a person needs eight a day. Two skins each, or one of Drew’s refills.
The Gates of Barovia
Down the road we came to a stone gate between two high rocks, two headless statues flanking it, crumbling and clearly long unguarded. The engraving read: “Welcome to Barovia — the crown jewel in the Strahd empire.” And raised above it, the same sigil that’s on Osric’s family banner — the one his Uncle Steven swore came down through noble blood.
So that’s a thread worth pulling. Osric’s heirloom bears the mark of Strahd’s empire, and it’s what drew him through the mists. The gate was wide open and undefended. We walked in.
Beyond, a valley opened up — a village below, and a vast, spiky castle perched on a pillar of cliff above it, looming and ominous. The lord’s seat. We headed down.
The village, and the pie woman
The Village of Barovia (in the valley of Barovia, in the land of Barovia — they really do say it like that) is a sorrowful, jumpy place. People took one look at us and scurried indoors. Curtains twitched. We’re strangers — “a colourful lot” — and strangers mean trouble.
The first to actually speak to us was an old woman selling pies off a rickety cart — “Granny,” who lives with her sisters in a mill outside the village. The pies smelled incredible and tasted better than anything from home. One gold each — dear, but each one is two days’ food and keeps a full sixteen days. When pressed on what’s in them she’d only say “protein,” and “they’re special.” Sirius tried to read her and got nothing. She named us “mist walkers,” and warned that when our sort appear, Strahd takes a closer interest. (She did, to be fair, teach us one mushroom that’s actually safe to eat.)
We’ll be honest in our own record: something is off about those pies. More on that below.
Two ravens watched us from a rooftop on the way in. We’re told ravens here are good luck.
Blood on the Vine — meeting Ismark
The tavern went dead silent when we walked in. One man waved us over: Ismark, who’s just become the village burgomaster — his father died only a day ago. He recognised Lancelot at once: he’s Mary’s dog, missing for weeks.
Ismark told us plainly what we’re dealing with:
- Strahd is a real vampire — not a metaphor, not a story. He drinks the blood of the villagers and anyone in his way.
- There is no leaving. The mists are the bars of the cell and Strahd is the jailer. People who walk into the mist wander for hours or days; some never come out.
- The land is bigger than this one village: Vallaki down the road (a couple of days, the main hub, high walls), and Krezk beyond it, which has an abbey. There was once another village too — Berez — until it defied Strahd. There is no Berez anymore, only ruins.
We bought him food and wine and put a gold on the bar. (We then learned the tavern board reads “Dogs welcome” — so we rather overpaid Granny for a pie a dog could’ve had for nothing. Live and learn.)
We showed Ismark our heirlooms. He knew the banner (Strahd’s sigil), called the raven feather a good omen, recognised the stone’s symbol as something from “old stories about nature” but couldn’t place it, had nothing on the amber, and named the wolf’s tooth for what it is — with a warning that wolves here are common and never a good sign.
Two favours, and a sister
The old burgomaster — Ismark’s father — died because Strahd wanted to court his daughter, Ireena, and the father refused. Strahd came every night after that, never let him sleep, and the stress killed him. So Ismark asked us two things:
- Help carry his father’s body to the church and bury him.
- Escort his sister, Ireena, to Vallaki — high walls, and a church that’s said to be one of the few places in this land Strahd cannot set foot. We agreed.
We met Ireena Kolyana — striking, sharp, and full of life, which here is a curse: brightness draws Strahd’s eye, and her red hair is reckoned bad luck on top of it. She listened, rapt, while Drew explained every symbol on her own arms. (Her tea was dreadful. We were polite.)
Bildrath’s, and the coins
We stopped at Bildrath’s Mercantile. The owner is a thoroughly grumpy man who wanted us gone and priced his goods accordingly — the “outsider special.” Sirius talked him down with a honeyed tongue to a quarter of the marked price, and we kitted out: tents, backpacks, bedrolls, water skins, rations, a whetstone, rope. We sold off a couple of crossbows we weren’t using.
One thing to note: the coins he paid us in bear the face of a gaunt man — the very same face as the statue we found in the Durst basement. Strahd’s face is on the money. We held onto our last potion of healing rather than sell it; there’s none to be had here for love nor gold.
Mary at the door
That night, a woman came knocking — Mary, the dog’s owner. Her daughter Gertruda has gone missing, and she begged us to find her, frantic and inconsolable. We gave Lancelot back to her, which was at least one good thing. We promised to keep an eye out — no more than that. Ismark told us privately that Gertruda is almost certainly dead; the only other possibilities are Castle Ravenloft, or a coven of witches in the Ruins of Berez, to the south, who take in wayward young women.
The pies (a private worry)
Lily ate one of Granny’s pies and that night had vivid, hallucinatory dreams — bright and overwhelming, but impossible to remember on waking. She woke up ravenous, tearing into another pie, and found the craving had simply become part of her. Drew checked her over: it’s not nothing. We should be very careful with those pies, and with Granny.
The funeral, and the boy in the crypt
Come morning, Ismark forbade Ireena from her own father’s funeral — because of “something at the church.” Pressed, he admitted it: Father Donavich, the village priest, has a son, Doru. The devil took Doru to his castle. Doru came back — and he is not what he was. He’s kept locked in the crypt beneath the church.
We carried the coffin the long mile to the church. On the way, villagers made an old sun-sign — Fëanor recognised it as an archaic gesture to the Morning Lord. We met Father Donavich at the altar, dishevelled and praying, and helped him dig and inter the old burgomaster. (Ismark stood apart — with no heir, he can’t risk himself.) The Father wept at Fëanor’s small light-miracle.
Then Donavich begged us to help his son — and made us swear, over and over, not to kill him. He unlocked the heavy chains on a trapdoor and led us down into the dark.
Doru
Down in the crypt, our light found a young man — eighteen, maybe — clinging to the ceiling by his fingertips. Fëanor’s senses confirmed the worst: undead. And then it spoke, in a boy’s frightened voice: “I’m sorry. I’m so hungry.”
What followed was ugly and confused. We didn’t want this fight:
- Fëanor cursed him; Drew lit him with faerie fire; protection and a spirit-blade went up around us.
- Sirius lit his sword with Lathander’s light and swung; the boy twisted away inhumanly. He leapt down at Sirius, snapping for blood — teeth skidding off the shield.
- Osric shoved him flat, then carved him for a heavy blow — and the thing barely flinched. He’s far tougher than any teenager has a right to be.
- He scampered across the ceiling for the stairs. Lily ran up the wall and tackled him to the ground, pinning him so he couldn’t move.
- Drew would not raise a hand to him. She put herself in the trapdoor instead, shouting for all of us to leave the poor creature and go.
- Sirius stood over him — “Submit. This is your last warning.” — and brought down a crowning, holy strike. It should have ended anything. It did not. The boy is still there.
And then Father Donavich tore the trapdoor open from above — “Leave my— you promised!” — and stood there watching, helpless, as his son trembled on the floor beneath us, begging: “Blood. I need your blood. Anyone’s. I’m so hungry.”
Osric lowered his sword and asked what he wanted. Blood, the boy said. Anyone’s.
We told the Father the truth none of us wanted to say: his son is a vampire too.
And there we stopped, with the boy pinned and pleading, his father in the doorway, and no good way left to turn.
Where we stand
- In the Village of Barovia, day two, in the crypt under the church, mid-fight with Doru — undead, grappled, surrounded, and somehow still standing after everything we’ve thrown at him. His father is right there.
- Two promises made: bury the burgomaster (done) and escort Ireena to Vallaki (~2 days off, not yet started). Ismark owes us a map.
- Gear & supplies: properly kitted now — tents, packs, bedrolls, water skins, rations, whetstone, rope. One potion of healing left (kept, not sold). Drew makes our water and small comforts daily.
- A loose end of mercy: we returned Lancelot to Mary and half-promised to look for Gertruda.
Questions on our minds
- What do we do about Doru? We swore not to kill him — but he is undead, ravenous for blood, and a crowning smite barely touched him. Can a thing like this even be helped? Father Donavich is watching.
- What is actually in Granny’s pies — and why did one of them crawl into Lily’s dreams and her hunger? Who are the “sisters” at that mill?
- Why does Osric’s banner carry the sigil of Strahd’s own empire? And what links our other heirlooms — the raven feather, the amber, the nature-stone, the wolf’s tooth?
- Strahd’s face is on the coins and on a statue under the Dursts’ house. How long has this man — this devil — been lord here?
- Is Gertruda anywhere we could actually reach — the castle, the witches of Berez — or is Ismark right that she’s already lost?