Curse of Strahdanya | Prologue | Come Wayward Souls
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Oh, what a horrible night to have a curse. And yet, this dark and gloomy night is no different than the countless ones before it. After all, I've reigned over Barovia, this land of death beyond the mist, for centuries. I, Vampire Countess Stradania Von Zorovich,

I'm all powerful in this domain that I rule from the spires of Castle Ravenloft. But such great power does not come without great cost. And so you see, my new friend, the eternal curse on this land is also a curse on me. We are all damned here. And now you are no different.

But even more doomed than you or I are the five wayward souls approaching the gates of my realm as we speak. They do not know it yet, but their destinies are tied together and to the fate of this dark land. What is to come will alter the course of Grovian history. A welcome bit of excitement to break up the long decades of monotony. I will not make it easy for them, but...

Perhaps they have a ghost of a chance. At the end of this tragic story, they may finally break my curse. The Curse of Stradania. Once and for all. As for the members of this doomed expedition, I will allow them to introduce themselves. How do you do? My name is Clayton Azran, archaeology professor of Missed Hallery University.

This institution of higher learning is the most prestigious in the city of Brig, as I'm sure you've heard. I come from a long line of renowned archaeologists, whose discoveries reside in museums across Avantris. My family's work is of such historical significance that the name Azran comes with a great deal of prestige and expectation.

Throughout my illustrious career, I have led numerous expeditions into treacherous jungles, forgotten deserts, remote mountain ranges, and beyond. I have also developed a reputation for my taste in fine top hats and my magical case that has been passed down for generations.

Yet, the discoveries I have to my name, while quite impressive, do not live up to the Azran legacy. Therefore, I seek to make a discovery so monumental that it will shake the archaeological world to its very foundation. And that is how I came to the culmination of my life's work, the search for the lost land of Barovia. You see...

The folklore of several cultures on the continent of Striga contained brief mentions of a valley kingdom established by a conquering warlord. Although the details vary in each iteration of the story, this nation seemingly suffered a great calamity due to the evil of its ruler.

It is said that in one terrible night, the entire valley and all its inhabitants were swallowed by mist and lost forever. At first, I was skeptical of such a fantastical event having actually occurred. Such tropes are quite common in the legends of most mortal races. However,

I decided to consult the tea leaves and peer into the future with the power of divination. My third eye opened, and I saw so clearly that I must pursue this line of research. I became relentless. I dug deeper than anyone had ever done before. And finally, I came to the conclusion that Barovia does exist.

It may be lost to history somewhere outside this world, but I am certain that it is discoverable once more. And so, I have secured robust funding from the university's wealthiest patrons, and have made all the arrangements to embark upon the most momentous Azran expedition yet.

I will find Barovia, bring back proof of its existence, and publish my magnum opus. No matter the danger ahead, there is nothing that can stop me from securing a legacy befitting the true greatness of Professor Clayton Asran. Oh, hello there. I am Miss Victoria Isaacs. I was born right here in Breague, the city where I've lived my whole life.

I was raised within the upper crust of society by my father. Since I was born, he's kept a watchful eye on me to ensure that I dutifully follow the will of Ilmater, the broken god. I've always been taught that there is godliness in suffering. Pain keeps me on the holy path and prevents me from straying to wickedness. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of my birth, I am inherently prone to sin.

You can probably tell from my ears and my strangely pallid complexion that I'm only half human. While my mother and father were a respectable married couple, I am the product of a terrible affair between my mother and a mysterious elven stranger from a far-off land of shadow. As if by divine punishment, she did not survive my birth. But my father kept me and raised me, despite the shame he felt about his late wife's betrayal.

Growing up, it was clear very quickly that I was different. You see, I possess a terrible, destructive power of shadow that I can barely control. I've always had very little freedom, lest the darkness within me take over and wickedness consume me. As further protection, I carry a set of crimson prayer beads, blessed by the clergy of Ilmater.

Each bead is carved into a spike, so when I feel the wickedness creep up within me, I can deliver myself the pain I need to keep it at bay. My father calls this affliction the mark of evil and says that it is a curse from the one who sired me. He has always said that this sinful power is something I can never truly repent for or escape from.

However, as blasphemous as this is, I cannot believe him, because I simply cannot live like this forever. And so, I've committed a grievous transgression, and it seems that you've caught me. I've been sneaking out under cover of darkness to research where my Elven sire may have come from, in hopes of achieving salvation. By divine providence, I discovered a lead and quickly arranged a trip to leave at dawn.

I pray, desperately, that I may find this stranger or his kin and learn the nature of my curse. By the grace of Ilmater, I will either rid myself of the malady forever, or finally succumb to its ruinous shadow once and for all. Howdy. The name's Silas Morgan, but most folks call him a shepherd. As you can see by the horns, tail, and reddish complexion, I'm a tiefling, like my parents before me.

The mustache and goatee are all mine, though. I'm from a dusted town called Rattlesnake, out on the frontier of civilization. As you might expect, it's mostly rolling plains, barren desert, and empty hills. But by the gods above, it's home. All sorts of folk come to a place like Rattlesnake for all sorts of reasons. Most just want a plot of land to call their own.

Some hope to make their fortune with a lucky strike of gold. Others are trying to lay low and escape the past. But everyone in Rattlesnake came out west to start a new life for themselves. Unfortunately, they're also a mighty superstitious lot. When I was just a boy, we had an especially hard year. Crops were failing, animals were dying, and flecks of gold weren't showing up in those muddy creeks.

In those desperate times, the most superstitious of the town had to blame someone for their hardships. And who better than the Devil People, as so many call my family. A gang of particularly pious folk, at least in the eyes of some cruel god of law and order, decided to round up a posse and take their frustrations out on my Ma and Pa. They burned them alive.

as I guess is tradition for these deities of light. Despite their infernal blood, they weren't that fireproof, and I was an orphan. But some higher power must have been looking out for me, because I was spared and taken in by the good doctor Thomas Cogburn. I've always just called him Doc. He's an old gnome artificer who came out west to outrun something from his past. But he doesn't talk about it, and I never pried.

The good doc raised me like the son he never had. He taught me how to ride, how to wrangle, and how to shoot. "Yes sir, you heard me right. I said shoot." He fashioned me a pair of arcane pistols you see right here. And of course I had to name them: Judgment and Redemption. As the doc always says, "The choice to kill a man and send his soul to judgment in the eternal hellfire cannot be just without the hope of redemption."

With my trusty guns at my side, I rode out into the dangerous wilderness around Rattlesnake and did the only thing I could think of. Kill monsters and protect the innocent. I couldn't save my parents, but if I could save just one person from sharing the same fate, that would be enough. As word of my gunslinging spread around, I became known as the Devil of the Plains. But those who really know what I'm fighting for call me The Shepard.

and I plan on being the shepherd until my last. Greetings. You may call me Sarnax of the Edelwood. I am a representative of a cult comprised entirely of lizard folk such as myself.

all united in the singular zealous purpose of spreading the will and divine flame of Garrix the Fire Lord, the greatest of all the dragon gods. From the moment I hatched from my egg in the sacred garden of the Faethal that is carefully hidden deep within the colossal forests of Striga, I basked in the blazing light of the Fire Lord.

Ever since, I have sought to bring about true renewal that can only grow from the ashes of utter destruction that Dragon's Fire brings.

I also serve the will of the cult elders, who seek to bring an end to the tyranny of the owlfolk aristocracy that rules the forest from the treetops above and subjugates all peoples of the forest floor below. At a young age, I performed my first ritual sacrifice of such a highborn.

and soon became numb to the pain, fear, and death of our oppressors, as their slaughter served a greater good and was committed in the name of justice. However, the cult has loftier goals beyond the occasional disappearance of a noble.

The only way to remove the talons from around our throats once and for all is to burn their great treetop cities to the ground and put an end to their reign in a single magnificent night of conflagration and inferno. Achieving such a feat requires a special type of fuel.

An oil that can only be tapped from trees of Edelwood that grow tall from tiny seeds and sprout brilliant leaves of red and gold. It became my holy crusade to plant these seeds wherever they would take. But finding such soil has been difficult, as the saplings require particular nutrients found only in death and decay.

But by divine providence, I have seen a vision in the flame, a land beyond mist, made of death itself, a place where my Edelwood trees will thrive.

And so, guided by the light of Garrix cast from my sanctified dragonbone lantern, I have left the garden and the fellow faithful behind to serve my divine purpose as foretold in flame. Good day to you. You may be wondering who speaks to you now, for I am not the last member of the expedition beyond the mist.

I am known as Samurai Master Jinteki, but this is not my story. The one to walk the steps of this hero's journey is my apprentice, Kana Soyokaze. We come from the farming village of Usagi, tucked away in the fertile valleys of Inari. Years ago, I swore to protect my community from the marauding bandits and hunting beasts that threatened our peaceful way of life.

I served for decades, but no matter my skill in combat, I knew that my many years on a Vantress would one day catch up with me. It was then that I met a girl from a family of humble means who had shown great athletic prowess since early childhood. It was time to pass the torch to a new generation, and I took young Kanna under my tutelage.

She took to my teachings with exceptional earnestness, and soon learned the way of the warrior. And while she possessed the strength to wield both blade and bow in deadly combat, she never forgot that one must do so with great care. She strove to achieve the grace of a blossom on a spring breeze, and the gentleness of a summer stream, only raising her weapons in defense.

The seasons passed, and Kana blossomed into a full-fledged samurai in her own right. But one fateful day, her world was uprooted. She arrived at my dojo for her morning training, and she found me missing. There were signs of a great struggle, but only a single clue as to what had happened to me. A scrap of a burned letter with a blood-red seal and a single name written upon it.

Stradania von Zarovich. The mysterious nature of my disappearance in a village so accustomed to tranquility brought all suspicion onto Kana. In a mockery of justice, the town's ruling daimyo accused Kana of my murder, stripped her of her honor, and banished her from Usagi forever.

And yet, despite being shunned by her friends, family, and all those she had sworn to protect, Kana did not lose hope, for she has the heart of a warrior. Instead, she vowed from that day forward that she would rescue me, clear her name, and be welcomed home.

Now, she is a ronin and has wandered Avantras seeking answers to the countless questions she has about my whereabouts. She followed many leads and ran into even more dead ends. But she pressed on, and finally, her relentless search bore fruit. There are rumors of a ruined church shrouded in shadow that might provide a pathway through the mist.

It is a land beyond this mist where my pupil believes I have been taken, and she travels both day and night to find it. As to what has become of me, only time will tell, but I know that Kanna will achieve anything she sets her warrior's heart and mind to.

Now you have met the five lost souls of the doomed expedition. And after all these introductions, they may not even last a week in Barovia. But oftentimes death is the kindest fate one can hope for in a place like this. They may soon be wishing for that sweet release from the horror and heartbreak that await them.

What do you think, my new friend? Will they be able to persevere? There is only one way to find out. If you have the courage, join me and let us face our destinies together. Do not be afraid. Join me beyond the mist.