Games Logs

Krelldutt opens the negotiations by planting a field of invisible thorns around Baba Lysaga. Twisted spikes erupt from the ground and pierce the leather soles of her shoes, and she screeches. Morgantha sprints to her side without seeing what surrounds her mother, and soon she is shrieking too. In her fury she hurls lightning at Komzin. The knight arches his back as it tears through him. The hut crashes closer like something out of a fever dream. One heavy root lashes out and

Morning in Berez arrives dim and damp, and it brings headaches. In Baba Lysaga's goat shed, Komzin and Vincent Yeager wake from a sleep that was not entirely their idea. Their heads are thick and throbbing. Their packs are gone. So are their weapons, and worst of all, so is Vincent's orb. Without it, whatever power he commands stays locked inside him.

Biblo, in a remarkable burst of strength, tears free of the webbing the giant spider has wrapped him in. She approaches; he dives through the door. She retreats upward to wait for the next unwary creature to ambush. He rejoins the group and finds them discussing something that has upset them all. Horatio is gone. This should not be possible. Horatio is magically bound to guard the barn, and a creature bound to a location cannot simply wander off. Nike, especially, feels hi

Vincent arrives in the swamps of Berez the way most guests of hags do: dragged face-first through brambles and mud, lighter by one spellcasting focus and a good deal of skin. He is fairly sure the focus was a crystal orb. He is less sure of almost everything else, including how he came to be in Barovia at all. His last clear memory, before a night of too much wine with some travelers' camp, is a tavern in Waterdeep. Again, too much drink, and a strange man offering him passag

The statue in the fountain has a face, and on closer inspection the face belongs to Vampyr, an ancient and evil minor god. Soulfire, still unconscious, had earlier called the room just the place for a vampire cult. It turns out she was not incorrect. Crystal responds to the discovery the way she responds to most things. The stone statue won't burn, so she casts Acid Splash on it. The statue's eyes light up, and it answers her with a lightning bolt. The acid sizzles against t

The fight continues in the subterranean room beneath the ruins of the Burgomaster of Berez's home. In front of the demonic shrine, the enormous, rubbery bulk of the moralith turns, its eye pits fixing on Shifty. The thing begins to speak without a mouth, straight into the kobold's mind. It offers strange gifts of insects and worse. Shifty refuses the offering. The moralith does not take refusal well. Its tentacle lashes out, gripping Shifty like a thick, tightening wet rope.

In the cellar, Soulfire hisses, “What ARE they doing up there?” The hammering on the organ far above them has resumed. Crystal merely shakes her head. Suddenly, there is an enormous crash from somewhere ahead of them. It is so large, so powerful, that the ground beneath their feet shakes and dust trickles down from overhead.

The road to Tser Falls has proven dangerous. From out of the forest emerges a familiar face, its features twisted now with rage and hatred. Sheriff. He was taken by the hags in exchange for passage along the road, back when they carried Ireena toward Ravenloft. Dag ducks, opened by one of Morgantha’s spells and bleeding freely. Sheriff’s blade arcs toward him, and again — whatever the hags have done to him in his time with them, they have granted him no gift for swordplay.

The last of the wolves goes down in a wash of fire, Crystal and Abi's spells silencing the pack's howls. Smoke curls off scorched fur and drifts low across the frost-stiffened grass near the windmill, and for a moment nobody speaks — just the tick of embers cooling and the distant creak of the mill's broken sails turning in the wind. They take stock. Packs are checked, blades wiped clean, potions counted against what's left of the road ahead. They set out on a curiously un

Orbart is difficult to miss: a minotaur, seven feet and eight inches of dense muscle, sharpened horn and quiet reserve, wearing a chainmail shirt with a slight hood and boots that have given way at the toe. He carries an amulet bearing a strange symbol, which he uses to channel his magic, and he has his own moral code, arrived at independent of his god. He has been in Vallaki for two months, renting a room from a widow who would not have him if extreme old age had not dimmed

On the floor of the Great Hall, Biblo is confronted by the arcanaloth, Neferon. “Exethanter, the lich, wants to see me?” The dragonborn gulps and regards the creature who stands before him. Some sort of infernal, Biblo guesses, looks jackal-like. With tawny fur, a bushy tail and a foxy face, Neferon’s odd, coppery eyes have horizontal slits for pupils. They are jagged, like a lightning bolt. He regards Biblo with an inscrutable expression. ”What does the lich want of me?”