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STRAHD''S BLOODY BAROVIA:

THE CURSED LANDS OF STRAHD

The battle brothers and sisters of the

lost-to-the-mists mercenary adventuring party.

Lorrigan

Dallian

Rhathule

Sorrenna

Mystelle

Jardan

Millas

Morkello

Velevyn

Linnorne


PART 1: WELCOME TO BAROVIA

Prologue:

Rising Mists of Ravenloft

The rising mists engulfed the small campsite. Ten single man tents around a blazing hot fire. As the companions slept the war hounds barked and snarled at imaginary assailants. The smell of death was in the air. Like a death shroud the blackness covered the grassy earth. Ten horses began stomping their hooves at this slight to their peaceful reality as they stopped chewing on tasty green grass.

Noon to be sure. Noon and the infernal mists sent from the hells darkened the land. Steadily, gradually and with certain dread the companions could only guess at what was happening and their eventual shared fates should this diabolical devilry have them away to some unknown haven of the infernal.

Cormyr at this location and so close to the capital was well travelled and patrolled. It was a well worn and often used camp site for dozens of travelling parties. Some five score tents. A hundred or more in total lay scattered about the camping grounds. It was well lit with lantern posts every ten feet apart. But this was noon they should not need lanterns. Cries of despair rang out from different locations around the camping grounds.

A gypsy traveller caravan of thirty wagons and several hundred horses and ponies led a parade of fifty hunting hounds as a chorus of barks echoed around the clearing in a hounds choir of increasing acknowledgement that something unnatural in the lands of Cormyr was taking place.

Ten tents. Ten horses. Ten pack ponies. Ten war hounds. Ten worried and startled mercenary adventurers. A grand menagerie of mundane and exotic beasts. All were companions, pets, friends and loved ones of the fighters.

Ten minutes to gather quickly all of their belongings before the mists rose above them. Ten ravens' calls called the weary and scared hard as nails mercenaries to lands afar and not of this world.

Quickly everything was packed into extra large travellers backpacks.

What couldn't be crammed in to the packs was hastily stuffed inside saddle bags and placed on horse and pony. Hounds were held securely on chain link leashes. To prevent a canine rout into the foreboding mists. Horses were mounted and ponies secured to the horses saddle with thick rope. All that remained was to hold fast and see what happened. A rope secured their gathering as each took hold so as not to lose each other in the darkness.

The war would wait for them or not. It mattered little to the group as they fought to keep all the animals under control as well as their own shattered nerves and tested courage. Within ten minutes they could no longer see beyond their party. Cries of seemingly alarmed travellers rang out to no avail. Barely could they see what was right next to them.

Had they been novices and not battle hardened professionals it would have been a sorry sight indeed. But these ten men and women were all warriors. Fighting men of no less than ten or more years each experience.

A bloody battle would be fought on Cormyr's eastern border within the month and as chosen men they stood to lose a thousand gold pieces each in payment for the inevitable bloody and merciless campaign that would now go on without them. Each cursed his or her luck as the thought of losing so much gold was realised.

Their mercenary company The Black Iron Skulls was now a six hundred man unit that had lost over four hundred men to the eastern orc hordes. A thousand men had set out from Waterdeep to join the ranks of the crusading armies. And a proud moment for all present had been experienced as joy and jubilation at the festivities held in the companies honour for such a world renowned crusade of worthy battle brothers.

The party was under strict orders to gather all documented and newly paid and recruited men and women from the Cormyrian capital and escort them to the front lines of the war torn conflict in the east. It was a human crusade against an orc horde that had often proved its battle rage, lust for blood, battle and human flesh and slaves and mounted a stubborn resistance to the fervour of soldiers, mercenaries and knightly orders who marched against them.

Within moments they were gone from this world. A haze of transference clouded their judgment. No longer did the sound and smells of Cormyr fill their senses with recognition as all about them seemed like an otherworldly assault on their senses and sanity.

But men who had faced a charge of over five hundred ogres would not fail this test of perseverance. They were not easily routed and the blood of cowards did not run through their veins. Lorrigan the party leader and troop commander issued careful and steady orders to those around him whose visage was nothing more than shadows.

Stout and with the heart of a storm giant. Dallian with the skill and courage to match was the first to rise from deep sleep. He took in his surroundings as he lifted his aching body off the floor. At some point all had fallen from their horses. Animals fed on nearby flora to sate their imagined hunger. Horses, Ponies, Hounds, Ravens and personal pets who were no less than fellow companions to the small human troop of men, women and animals.

He took a hold of his Moonshine flask and removed the lid. Taking a deep breathe he swallowed down in one gulp four pints of moonshine. His head rang like hells bells immediately after. Regulation stated one small cup of moonshine with each meal. Never one to miss an opportunity he grinned idiotically at the thought of no more orders. But the loss of a potential one thousand gold pieces pay day was not something to be cheerful about.

Luckily he still had coins and trade bars to his good name that would hopefully buy him needed provisions. The horses and ponies carried most of his supplies for perhaps thirty days. His gear was newly crafted or repaired in Waterdeep before they entered the crusade. His immediate thoughts were to find a settlement and locate work or find local tomb raiding opportunities in the area. Would local settlements allow them to work and use needed provisions and supplies?

"This isn't our land. I don't think we're in Cormyr or even the Realms any longer." Lorrigan said to no one in particular as the rest of the party began to rise from the grassy knoll.

A ruin of some sort in the distance sat atop a formidable and unassailable steep hill. A fortress once. Likely a heap of rubble now. But it had walls, high walls. And those walls could be repaired and defended if necessary.

The sky was unrecognizable. The Cormyrian sky from their last position was adorned with high stone walls and tall towers standing guardian against all foes of Cormyr. But this new land was mostly unknown trees in a vast swathe of tall forest. Autumn leaves had begun to fall yet surprisingly the trees remained dressed in a cloak of greens, browns, oranges and reds.

Others from the camping ground may have passed this way if they too were brought to this land.

No sign of the rising mists met their eyes. All around was calm although wolfish howls filled the air around them from every direction. The hounds new not to antagonize the wolves and remained silent and obedient.

They held no illusions of how this would play out. To return home they needed supplies and gold. They were severely lacking as an adventuring party. They were indeed formidable warriors but lacked magical attacks, defences and support of the company wizards and other spell casters. They all had some battlefield healing capabilities but had no divine magic to heal, bolster and enhance their selves.

They had no roguish cunning and their multitude of essential adventuring skills. Indeed ten fighting warriors could hope for little in the way of adventuring or tomb raiding until such time as they had procured the services of local heroes.

While they waited their situation would worsen. Thirty three days of dried and preserved rations. A weeks supply of fresh drinking water. Two weeks supply of moonshine and other assorted spirits to keep up their morale. A weeks supply of food and water for the animals. They desperately needed to find a large settlement of at least several thousand people if they were to restock.

The trade bars they carried were almost universal currency no matter their location. They probably had roughly five thousand gold coins worth of trading bars each. Made of the finest gold and newly minted in Waterdeep.

While their coinage collection ranged from a mere gambler's fools folly of one thousand two hundred gold coins to a treasure hoarders accumulated wealth of ten thousand or more coins held by the party leader. The others fell somewhere in between the two treasure troves amounts.

What of the language barrier. How would they parley with potential allies in this mysterious world.

Lorrigan would not be kept wanting again he promised himself. His simple journey to the capital had required sword arms not the specific talents of other professions. If things worked out here then the time to expand his small party was well past the point it was needed if they were to take contracts of the finest quality and worth a sizeable fortune as their pay.

He recalled something about a distant world called something like Ravenloft. A travelling nomad had told him of such a place that used its mists to transport unsuspecting travellers to its lands from across the planes of existence, whatever that meant. He was a warrior and platoon commander. He led fifty men and women into battle for the warband mercenary company. "Complacency kills" he muttered to himself. If he had brought the platoon specialists, their predicament would be very different. Although no less desperate if they were to find a way home.

Another piece of token knowledge was that if the dark realm felt at all threatened then the problem groups could at a whim be cast out of the realms onto an almost infinite trillions of worlds all across the known planes of existence. They could end up never seeing home again. Life was short in the realms for a human. Few lived to be more than a hundred summers old. Would Cormyr fall? Of course it wouldn't. Lord Marshall Montevarius Vallenvas would never allow it.

The party gathered after rounding up their travelling menagerie of loyal animals. Lorrigan's monkey stole the show as it pilfered the commanders ceremonial dagger. Last valued at twelve thousand gold coins for the intricate gem encrusted handle and enchanted elven blade. It was a gift for the return of a bankers kidnapped daughter after her rescue. To this day the man insists on calling Lorrigan his seventh son.

A deathly stare down panicked the little fellow who returned the dagger undamaged. Much to his delight he was handed a banana from the commander's provisions box.

With all agreed they set off for the difficult climb to the top of the steep hill and its well defended location inside the walls of the seemingly ruined keep.

Inside the walls of the keep the animals took up their chosen feeding locations. In the barn they found Alliciette Cornell, Frennri Haliburton, Kormara Kesslington. Three travelling rogues who had lost their gang to a tribe of hill giant cannibals on their last job. The mists had put them here and with only a few remaining days of food and water they had looked a pitiful trio. Lorrigan vowed to give sanctuary to any travellers that needed it.

The ruin was indeed abandoned and empty of a keeps trappings. The party set about patching up any defensive holes in the walls with felled trees and rubble. A small stone quarry nearby was scouted and the horses used to pull heavy loose stones to help patch up the defences. The battlements would take roughly a week to prepare and fix. The rogues promised to locate a source of clean water using their undoubted survival and wilderness hunting and trapping skills.

Cormyr was a long way off. The calculations would be unfathomable. But there could be others from the Realms who had suffered the same fate and simply needed to be found.

By night all were tired and ready for rest and sleep. All the animals found somewhere to rest inside the massive barn where the keeps cavalry units once occupied. There was enough space for three hundred horses and ponies at least.

The war hounds knew their role and would protect the barn from attackers and foes. Ten war hounds would rip a hill giant apart and pose a difficult task to anyone who would harm the other animals. Perhaps even more terrifying were Linnorne's pet companions a pair of tame sabre tooth tigers raised from a very young age after their mother was hunted and killed.

These massive monstrous beasts dwarfed even the strongest of the war hounds. Both wore magical chains and gems as their collars and could speak with Linnorne as she wore a similar collar. A gift from an elven druid admirer after she saved his grove with her cats.

Sorrenna and Mystelle had a black and white unicorn each as their constant companions. Each wore a pendant that allowed them to call the two mated pairs and their offspring. A gift from an elven princess saved from orc raiders by the two sisters. These are celestial creatures and can only be banished from mortal realms.

On their homeworld among the planes they are as powerful as ancient ki rin. On any other world they will avoid hostile contact. The mists of Ravenloft cannot bind these celestial greater beings. Only on their homeworld will they attack enemies. They cannot be bound, slain, captured, held or imprisoned. Their horns vanish temporarily if threatened with removal. If somehow removed they grow back within a day.

Lorrigan's monkey is the leader of a troop of squirrels, mice, hamsters, ferrets, badgers, skunks and other assorted wildlife befriended by the party. They have developed communication skills between each other and led by the monkey. They pose a real threat to any targets valuables.

The ravens act as messengers across the realms and now will serve the same roll in Ravenloft. Their other training allows them to spy on the lands and enemies below.

Dallian's Grizzly Owl Bear is a five thousand pound giant capable of single handedly taking out an enraged pack of ogres. It is exceptionally intelligent and thoughtful. It considers itself the leader of all the animals present within the party. The owlbear awaits the day a trio of golden dragon eggs hatch which it carries everywhere in a specially prepared large elven pouch that has the same effect on the hatchlings as being cared for by their mother. The mother remains a prisoner and slave of an ancient greater balor.

An intelligent dog capable of elven speech has taken a liking to Lorrigans monkey and to the leader. He can as a result of magical experimentation remain invisible or turn into shadow. He is an excellent spy but has no attack other than a small bite.

The parrot swears like an entire barracks of hard ass soldiers. He is an excellent distraction for the thieving animals and will insult all those foolish enough to talk to him.

Back to the present situation. No one was thrilled by the idea of hunting wildlife. Livestock, fish, dairy and poultry were exceptions to the rule. As were dire wolves and giant boars both kinds threatened or posed a threat to all other animals. Some favoured this approach for the sake of their small army of animal companions. In truth they were more likely to add any abandoned or orphaned animals to their growing roster than want to eat them. Predatory wild animals were only taken in if very young.

They settled around blazing camp fires once their tents placed carefully within distance of the heat of the fire. In the morning they would build this place up some more. They would scout for wood, food, fresh water and settlements.

For now. They merrily conversed. Told tales of valour and heroic deeds and even exaggerated feats of bravery and foolishness.

Later they slept watched over by a massive owlbear that could kill almost anything up to its own size and strength.

Lorrigan was the last to sleep. He lay curled up with Wish Bone, his pet monkey whom snored quietly.