7/30/2025: Deprimer’s Crisis and the Dungeons of Ravenloft

At noon the day before, Deprimer gathers the citizenry of Vallaki in the city square. The crowd shifts restlessly as he climbs upon the platform, their faces etched with worry and suspicion. He checks his closely written parchment one final time, the sheets crackling in the cold air before he tucks them away.

In a ringing voice that carries across the square, Deprimer recaps the dire financial state of Vallaki and his plan to pull the community back from the brink. “We will, of course, be able to put the city back on track. This will mean levying taxes on all who live in the city of Vallaki, relying on them to pay their fair share.” A grumble ripples through the crowd.

Deprimer’s gaze sweeps to the five wealthy merchants standing near the platform’s base - thick-waisted, expensively dressed men who deal in lumber, linen, wine, crops and clothing. Their faces tighten as Deprimer continues. “Some of the more affluent individuals in Vallaki - wealthy merchants who have avoided paying their fair share by being less than truthful about their income. They need to begin paying what they owe rather than leaving the bulk of the responsibility to the common folk.”

The merchants, called out so publicly, stare shocked at Deprimer. Three of them look outraged, their faces flushing red with indignation. Two appear shame-faced as Deprimer declares they must pay their taxes. The lumber merchant’s jaw works silently for a moment before he storms up the stairs to the stage.

“Who are you,” the lumber merchant thunders at Deprimer, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent square, “to tell the good people of Vallaki how they should run their city? You are a foreigner, an outsider, and an… elf!” The last word drips with the most derisive tones imaginable. The crowds, already restive, begin to murmur and shift in response to the merchant’s inflammatory words.

Deprimer steps forward, raising his hands to appeal to the crowd, but he can already sense he has lost many of them. The lumber merchant’s voice booms across the square: “Who is with me? We throw out the usurper!”

Deprimer’s expression grows deadly serious as he intones, “Are you inciting an insurrection, merchant?”

“Call it what you will, ‘Burgomaster,’” comes the merchant’s reply, dripping with derision as he spits Deprimer’s title like a curse.

Turning back to the crowd, the lumber merchant throws his arms wide and shouts, “Were you better off under the old Burgomaster? The 16th of the Vallakovich line, the rightful leader of our city!” His finger stabs accusingly at Deprimer. “You recall what this elf did to the Burgomaster and his family to take power?”

Affronted, Deprimer snaps back, “The Burgomaster and his wife were struck down by the power of Goth. I did kill Vladimir because he tried to kill me with a Fireball spell, used against some in the crowd!”

“See?” the merchant calls triumphantly to the crowd. “He admits murdering the Burgomaster’s entire family!”

“I am backed by Krieger!” Deprimer counters desperately.

The lumber merchant turns to face Deprimer with narrowed, calculating eyes. “Where IS Krieger?”

“He is on Vallaki’s business, rounding up insurrectionists.” Deprimer does not notice that Conwan grimaces slightly at these words, thinking of Krieger’s deal against Deprimer.

The merchant hops off the stage with surprising agility, taking a little less than half the crowd and two of the other merchants with him. Several red knights and a few of the city watch, noticeably, break ranks to follow. Deprimer calls after the departing group, “You have two days to pay your taxes, merchant!” The lumber merchant departs at the head of the grumbling crowd, sending a rude gesture in Deprimer’s direction.

Grim-faced, the two remaining merchants stand before the stage, close to Conwan, who passes their whispered words to Deprimer. The clothing merchant hisses at the wine merchant, “I’ll soon be in as dire poverty as you if this continues! We can support the current Burgomaster… for now.”

Deprimer addresses the two merchants, “We have sold off some of the items from the Burgomaster’s mansion that were found in the attic. Unless you have a better idea of what to use it for, I thought we might use this to help the neediest in Vallaki. Do you have other suggestions?”

The clothing merchant’s eyes narrow as he responds, “The money might be used to purchase some of the extra cloaks I have in my warehouse to be donated to the poorest of the city.”

“So the money will go to your business? And you’ll pay your taxes as I have directed, yes?”

“I have no money,” the clothing merchant declares, spinning on his heels and departing in a huff. The wine merchant sidles up to Deprimer and whispers urgently, “I’m so sorry for my brother’s behavior.”

⚔

Before Rahadin enters the brazier chamber, Duster silently slips through one of the doors on the south wall. His movement is covered by the distant, frantic calls of a raven echoing through the castle’s vaulted subterranean chamber. Duster finds himself confronted by a tall, dusty velvet curtain that rises high into the darkness above. He slips through it onto a balcony that overlooks a horrifying scene.

Below stretches a lake of what appears to be thick, viscous mud. A table with a disintegrating skeleton chained to its surface seems to float upon the mud midway between the balcony and a bird cage far too small for the raven it contains. The cage hangs from a rope tied to a cleat on the wall.

On the balcony where Duster stands, a pair of carved mahogany chairs face outward, flanking an elegant, dainty table. Upon it rests a cut crystal goblet and decanter, both crusted with a scum of what might be dried blood. Duster climbs down from the balcony carefully, unsure how deep the thick and sticky mud might be. He sinks up to his shoulders, the mire clutching at him as he moves forward toward the caged raven.

The raven within its tiny cage shrieks in Auran, its voice reaching Duster’s ears and reminding him he is still disguised as Deprimer. “Mr. Deprimer!” screams the raven desperately. “They are in the mud! The vampire spawn! Be careful!”

Deprimer becomes aware of two muddy figures rise from the mire and lurch toward him with predatory grace. He clambers up onto the table and kicks the skeleton away, its bones clattering into the mud. He swings up his crossbow, sending a bolt into one of the spawn, who hisses venomously, “You’ll pay for that, subcreature!” She reels toward him as her sister spawn flings herself from the mud to clutch at Duster. Her fingers find purchase on his clothing as she prepares to bite, but Duster wrenches away. She slams face-first into the table top with a sickening crack, her teeth scattering in every direction as Duster pulls free.

In desperation, he calls out in Strahd’s commanding voice: “Now leave. The sight of such mediocrity begins to bore me!” The vampire spawn hesitate, uncertainty flickering across their muddy features as they hear their master’s voice emerge from Duster. He uses their confusion to reach the rope, hastily unwrapping it from the cleat and lowering the cage.

The raven calls urgently, “They are beginning to approach, Deprimer, hurry!” Duster’s shaking fingers work frantically at the catch until the cage door clicks open. The bird bursts out, flapping its wings as it transforms into Urwin, who stands bruised and battered atop the table.

The vampire spawn begin to approach the tavern keeper, hissing with renewed purpose, while two more surface from the mud. The newcomers avoid Duster entirely and move straight toward Urwin, who commands of Duster, “Throw me the rope!” Urwin catches it, placing the end between his teeth before leaping into the air. His form shifts into that of a raven as he flies to the balcony, helping Duster climb upward to safety.

The pair can hear the vampire spawn pulling themselves up the rope with inhuman strength. Duster uses his dagger to cut the rope, and two of the spawn plunge back into the mud with frustrated shrieks. The companions flee through the curtain, with Duster seizing the crystal ware and tossing it into his pack as they run.

In the brazier chamber, there is no sign of Rahadin. As Urwin reads the rhyme that runs around the brazier’s rim, Duster removes the elegant, jeweled dagger that pins a roll of parchment bearing his name in elegant script. On impulse, Duster retrieves the indigo stone and tosses it into the flames. He and Urwin step into the brazier together.

The pair arrive with bone-jarring impact in the soft grass, landing in the shadow of the ruins of the windmill. “My eyes!” cries Urwin, shielding them from the blazing light above. “Deprimer, please tell me, what is that?”

Duster, confused, looks up and realizes with shock that Urwin means the sun. They have arrived in the middle of the standing stones - the one place they know of in Barovia where genuine sunlight is able to shine.